So how do you go about understanding men?

I have no clue. Am a loser as far as men and relationships go. I am at the end of my tether.

Everywhere you go you read this about relationships: be authentic, be genuine, be unafraid of saying what you want, stay positive, look deep and check your patterns of behaviour, maybe you attract unavailable men, maybe you’re commitment-phobic,don’t worry it’s not about you, it’s about him, dress like this, when they “reject” you it’s not really “rejection” but their own issues that they’re dealing with, when he says this what he means is actually that, don’t appear needy, don’t give up your boundaries, don’t say yes when you mean no, be confident, be self-assured, don’t nag, don’t this, don’t that….God!!! Really? Has all of this really worked ever???? Are we now supposed to go out with a little blueprint of the billion and one scenarios etched out and our “perfect” and ‘desired” response to them? Have man-woman relationships always been about manipulation?

So I actually do some “inner work” because somehow something is always wrong with me and nothing I do is ever “good enough” for the guy. I can do exactly what all the “experts” tell you to practice and “call in the one”, but where I’m concerned nothing seems to be working. Nothing. Zilch. Nyet. Zero. Nothing. I refuse to believe that I’m unlovable, or not smart or not a fantastic human being who genuinely deserves the best. But nope, even that kind of belief, or affirmation doesn’t hold any water.

If I give the guy space, it’s too much space. If I show that I get upset then I’m too emotional. If I am concerned or caring then I’m too much. If I say what comes naturally to me then it perturbs the guy because he seems to be hearing what he wants (what could be wrong with that?). If he asks and I say yes I can do that and that and that, it’s like I’m superwoman. If I text and expect a response and it doesn’t come, it’s okay because he’s busy.  If I ask why haven’t you responded, then I’m demanding, if I spontaneously call and surprise you, calls aren’t answered because, ‘sorry I went sleep early!’ And then when it suits him, he can just stop communicating, because it’s easier to ignore a flesh and blood human being who is on the other side of the world and the phone by ignoring than actually having to meet and say, “I’m sorry”. Yup, it’s fine, who am I after all? All I’m supposed to do is have a “dark night of the soul” and entreat and beseech and cry my heart out and ask the Universe and the God that I believe in, “don’t I deserve a break?”

But for God’s sakes, something’s gotta give! I am tired, so bloody tired. I just am me. I’ve worked hard to figure out that maybe there’s some energy which I send out to the Universe which says, “You’re a no-go on relationships” and every relationship will end up in failure. It does. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy and no amount of counselling, deep soul cleansing or  re-wiring my brain seems to bring “miraculous” results in 7 weeks or whatever s#@t the authors sucker us into believing.

And so while I continue to lick my emotional wounds, the Earth continues to revolve around the sun, day follows night and the men continue to desert me. I look in the mirror and ask myself, “why?” and I have to be honest, there are no answers that satisfy me. Perhaps like my friend suggested, I have to surrender and not ask “why” but ask “how can I take this painful situation too in my stride?” Day after day after day, for years now I’ve had to lick my wounds in lonely misery and I don’t know what or how or when or…anything. Life sucks right now! And I can’t keep up the pretense of being emotionally strong. Not today. Not when all I want to do is curl up and disappear for ever. And I’m too broken to really talk to myself and go to the “root” of the issue as I’ve done in the past. Nothing helps. It seems everything that I want to believe in is giving up on me and having a laugh. All I know is I’m in pain. I’m hurting and I don’t know how to self-soothe. It’s just not fair dammit!

I don’t understand you man. Period.

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