iPod. A baby iPod. It's really called a shuffle which is kind of like a temporary tattoo...a nice substitute to fake out the 3-11 fans until I can get the guts to have the bleeding heart that says 'Daddy's Girl' branded on my lower back (sidenote: Matt calls those tattoos 'targets' which I think is kind of funny) As soon as my ship comes in from the Federal government, I'm getting the real thing (iPod, not target tattoo). And now that I've tricked you with this light and airy blog topic....
I've been thinking a lot lately about being addictive. I have an addictive personality as evidenced by my current enrollment in a Fat People 12 step program also known as Weight Watchers. I am addicted to lots of things, mainly men and food and iPods. Here's the thing...the addiction to the iPod doesn't hurt anyone that I can figure, and the addiction to food only hurts myself and that pair of pants that ripped when I was on my mission. But the addiction to men....ahhhh...that is a different story.
I've discovered, I think, that I am addicted to the control that comes from trying to make men who aren't necessarily emotionally available pay attention to me. I exist in a world of potential, seeing them as I think they could someday be and working very hard to nurture them into wanting me as I currently am. Because you see, then I would be worthy of love. I see every unavailable man as an opportunity to win. To win affection, to win control, to win attention and approval. Maybe I thrive on the thrill of the hard won nod in my direction. Stemming from a belief that I am not enough in the real world? That an available man wouldn't really want me, so it must be my lot in life to work very hard to make the other kind of man choose me. And it's an addiction.
This is not some kind of feminist manifesto. Men are lovely. They are good and decent and strong and I want them in my life. I just want to be able to want them for the right reasons. I want to be content within myself enough to choose to be loved and believe love and not need to fix someone so that they can love me. I need to stop treating men as objects to win.
This is totally my punishment (and unfortunately yours) for spending 2 hours in the self-help section at Borders.