[356-3] Ding, Going Up

As with most things I write, there's ample opportunity to get more specific. This will likely make more sense as a third part to a trilogy in line with the last two things I've written.

The idea of having “no rules” in a relationship sounds retarded, at first. It comes from a point of shared selfishness. If you want the other person to do as they do and that's what you like about them, what's the point of undermining that by dictating what they should do? It seems unfair and petty. You can do a lot to suppress the feelings you have about their behavior, because after all, it's your problem as a result of your mutually agreed upon no-rules understanding. But, at that point, it's likely not healthy and not really what you had in mind when you said “no rules” in the first place.

At the intellectual level, everyone just “is.” There is no intrinsic specialness other than what you choose to feel about yourself and your happenstance existence. This isn't a very constructive or human place to come from if you seek to form social bonds or convey “real human messages.” And, arguably for most of my life, that's been perfectly fine for me. The handful of times I allowed “emotionality” to guide my rationale or actions, they went remarkably bad. And lest you think I only reference my small window, the reports from others are consistent, to one degree or another, with my experience. It's significantly easier to “trust” people to simply be their degree of cluster-fuckery, and navigate those waters as they rise and fall.

So you develop a language to accompany your behavior. I adopt a lot of terms revolving around coldness, distance, detachment, being mean, playing games, sociopathy, and brazen disregard for the emotional states of other people. It's a well-rehearsed, and constructive for my purposes, set of conditions you'd do well to understand what I mean when referencing them, if we're attempting to get along.

At the heart of it is a reflection of superficiality. It's the overt impression I've gotten from overwhelming examples of asking about and getting more than I bargained for. There's not been an experience where it's been worth “trusting” people or looking vulnerable. So why would I pretend I'm concerned with opportunities to engage in those behaviors? Why would I consider your emotional appeal? I can't argue from a position where things have gone well when these things were at play, so I'm intellectually locked out of the kind of conversation you might be trying to have. I, in times of emotionality, have been met with recurring themes of dismissive, taken for granted, or abusive responses; you eventually learn to find a way to “shut it off.”

Now, I still don't necessarily regard this as a bad thing. Lucky for me, I really like being “mean.” It's fun and fulfilling to explain things in terms or have an understanding of the world that either delights people in how dreadful it sounds, or turns them off so completely I learn quickly they aren't worth bothering with. Yes, while selfishness can evolve and mean many things, the bad kind doesn't go away completely. I'll take those opportunities to be personally gratified.

Here's where things get tricky. What happens when you're not super keen on being crazy selfish all the time? What happens when it's not about you it's about us? Emotions in and of themselves are not bad things, but I've thought for a considerable amount of time they should inform, not dictate, how you behave. So what happens when I don't want to play the cold manipulative game, and am being informed from the guy everyone forgot worked here, that something needs to change?

I certainly have a construct, a set of ideals or relative rule structure in which I conduct my affairs. It stands to reason that if they've served me well, rules in and of themselves are not a bad thing. Appreciating the rules is different than seeking to use them for control. And self-imposed rules hopefully come from a place of deep appreciation for why you conduct yourself a certain way. It's why I'd rather detach when I have too long periods of “fuck everything” verses continuing being around and making it people I like's problem.

Certainly the underpinning philosophy behind open relationship things is a sense that you have more to give, or recognize what others offer, on top of, or in conjunction with, what you have. It's greedy for the right reasons. Some people are just sluts, I truly empathize, and make it more about sex and “spreading the love” that way, but to me, that seems fundamentally hollow. Others have a deep pull towards different people or personalities and want to play those feelings out wherever they take them. And there's any number of degrees in between. Regardless of the motivation, you've missed the boat if you're not communicating what you feel and what you want. Hopefully, having that backed with an underlying trust. Expressing, not excusing.

And I think there's a shaky ground in that “between” realm that doesn't get enough acknowledgment. I think having built a pretty big network of “people I get along with to one degree or another” when something happens that seems to undermine what I thought that relationship looked like, it helps justify the lack of feeling or investment even further. Everyone seems to be out for “the idea of The One” and anything you had gets swept under the table because they found a proper title. It's humbling (is that how you spell humiliating?) how people you've spent nearly every day with for months can express how lonely they feel.

It should be clear by now that it's not “trust them to fuck up how you expect” or “communicate what you want them to hear.” I've, until relatively recently, found little to no inclination to do anything but those. I didn't know how to appreciate the kinds of places “emotional” people were in, in the same way. Or if I had, I didn't give it the weight required for a change in the decision making process.

It goes back to previous themes I've mentioned. What matters is your being intentioned. What's on your mind and why. What example you want to set and what kind of behavior you want to reward. Can you see, do you feel, the utility and perhaps meaning in actually trusting or actually communicating where you're coming from with someone else. Is there something about together that better informs you about being alone. I'm not using question marks because they feel more like directives.

I think having experienced a hint of how it can work has at least made me a tad more sympathetic. Ultimately, what gets you to the other side is being able to struggle through the words and feelings, hopefully with someone who doesn't betray your process. Who are you shoveling shit with when it inevitably hits the fan? When the pains of jealousy, doubt, or existential nihilism subside, did your mind go back to “I wish they were here lying next to me watching this movie.”

And it's not fair. That's almost exactly the point. Picking someone or adhering to new rules for someone else's sake is to prop up and celebrate that us example. Presumably, at least for me, because you advocate for what it means and feels like, and not so you can look down your nose or garner false pride in clinging to something that staves off crippling anxiety and loneliness. It should perhaps also not allow you to forget or ignore what else you have or want and why those still mean something to you.

If you're brave enough to talk yourself over a cliff, you'll be able to appreciate what survived after the landing.

This is part 3 of a series: Part 1 & Part 2