About the only thing that’s perfect about me is my vision. I
haven’t taken an eye test in years but it’s never tested lower than absolutely
flawless. As a kid, I thought I was really missing out on an accessory
opportunity by not getting to wear glasses or bright blue contacts (keep in
mind I was also jealous of the girl who broke her leg because she got to wear a
pink cast. Everybody signed it!).
I’ve since come to realize that the additional expense of a medically required
accessory leaves a little to be desired (sunglasses are more than enough) and
I’ve reallocated my jealousies to wishing I had perfect hair, or perfect skin or a perfect ass. Even more unfortunately, there isn’t a glasses
equivalent for the ass - that accessory that remedies the less than perfect
characteristic. Unless you count Spanx. Which I don’t. Spanx are way less cuter
than a pair of specs.
Supposedly hindsight is 20/20. Mine isn’t. The further I get
from the past, the harder it is for me to recall what happened, what was going
on, how I felt, what I said, how I reacted. I’ve never been one of those people
that could recount, word for word, a conversation. Or remember a date, an
anniversary. I’ve had lifelong friends that I can’t remember for the life of me
what their birthday is. What year did I graduate from college? Good question.
What was I wearing? Probably, likely, something cute, but, unless there’s a
picture from the moment in question, your guess is as good as mine.
I’ve been going to a counselor lately to work on some life
strategies. Clearly, I need some new tools for my toolbox. And he’s been asking
me a lot of questions about the past, past relationships, past lives in past
places. And, I don’t have a lot of details to give. He asked me the other day
about Bryce, “what attracted you to him at the beginning?” (I’d asked him to
help me figure out what attracts me to bullies, manipulators, tough and mean
guys, so I don’t do it again, HALP!) Honestly, I couldn’t remember anything,
anything except the basic timeline. I had to go back and read some emails, my
blog, my diary, to fill in the details, to clarify.
After that, I
realized that Bryce was well-spoken, interesting, driven, not to mention,
actively pursuing me. Mostly, he talked a good game. And I’m such a good
listener that I didn’t bother to notice that he didn’t follow the talking up
with action. He told me exactly what I wanted to hear, using the best possible
words and he presented an elaborate façade that distracted me from who he
actually was. He hid the hoarding part, the ‘roid rage, the pet abuse, the
shifty financial situation. Until it was too late and I was so over my head
that I was afraid to back out. I’m the kind of person who tends to put my money
where my mouth is. If I say I’m going to do something, I make a concerted
effort to do it. In other words, I’m a man of my word.
And, I tend to take a man at his word. Which is why,
perhaps, I ended up with Bryce. And Ken. And Malik. And Conover. And, of course, Rocco. Each of these men presented a self, at least in the
beginning, that was far different from whom they actually ended up being. They
all said the right thing, talked a good game, but had a much harder time
walking the walk. Each of them sold their refrigerator to an Inuit (me), but then
couldn’t figure out (or never had the intention of) delivering a unessential major
appliance to a remote destination.
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