He Cheated on Her.

My mother and my father divorced when I was four-years-old. At the time I suppose I was upset, but I can’t really recall the details of the moment to tell you for sure. Regardless, I have never considered myself to be a child of a broken home. I have actually always considered myself to be very lucky. My mom met an amazing man when I was five-years-old who soon became my step-father and more of a real father to me than my biological father has ever been.

I continued to affectionately call my father “daddy” several years after my parents were divorced. It took me awhile, but once I started to put the puzzle pieces together, I realized my father wasn’t the person my little girl eyes thought he was. He was selfish and manipulative. But despite my becoming acutely aware of these flaws, I never knew he was that kind of person. I never knew he cheated on my mother.

Until this past weekend.

I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked. But I couldn’t help it: I was speechless, I was disgusted.

For so many years, I’ve been trying to salvage the small resemblance of a relationship I have with my father. And now, I’m forced to ask myself why I’ve even bothered.

I already have a long list of qualities I don’t like about him. Add this to the mix? I honestly don’t know if I can find it in myself to try anymore. I don’t know if I can find it in myself to even care. I’m 21 years removed from the situation, but I feel pain as if it happened just yesterday. And I’m angry. I’m more angry with my father than I have ever been before (which is saying quite a lot). I feel pain, I feel anger, and yet I feel numb. Completely numb.

I met him on my iPhone.

I have never had the desire to sign up for eHarmony or Match.com. I have never understood the fascination and curiosity that surrounds the world of online dating. I have never been able to identify with people who have chosen that method as a means of meeting people.

I’m all about the digital age, don’t get me wrong. In fact, my career pretty much revolves around it. I just feel that certain things are better left offline. And dating, for me, definitely falls into that category.

However, it seems if I have become a hypocrite. Shortly after uprooting my life in Boston and moving to Washington, DC to start fresh, I downloaded an application called Loopt Mix on my iPhone. I saw an article on Mashable (my favorite news blog site on social media) about the application and couldn’t help but be a bit curious. Honestly, it seemed kind of sketchy, but I suppose my curiosity beat out my skepticism in this case because I soon found myself chatting away with strangers who were “within 5 miles” of me.

Sure enough, my initial hypothesis was right: there were a lot of creepy guys on the application! But I soon discovered a handy block button and was able to filter out the weirdos quickly and painlessly. While I was half-tempted to delete the application within the first 48 hours of having it, I opted to stick around in hopes that it would be a good way to meet more people in the area and learn about different things that were going on. I was right. One of my “friends” noticed that I listed photography as an interest and told me about FotoWeek DC.

I soon discovered, however, that while I had the intention of using the application to meet people, I didn’t actually feel comfortable when asked to do so. Except when it came to him. After several weeks of back and forth conversation with him, I agreed to upgrade our friendship to the level of Facebook. And shortly thereafter, I agreed to meet him…in person. We no longer talk on the application where we first met, but I am fully aware of the fact that I met him on my iPhone. I really have no room left to judge people who participate in online dating. After all, what I did (am doing?) is more or less the same exact thing.

Once a cheetah always a cheater?

I’ve never followed golf and I’ve never cared too much about Tiger Woods, but for some reason the recent scandal surrounding his life has made me really sad.

He’s been in the spotlight for quite some time and he’s always managed to keep a crystal clear record. He projected perfection. Career. Fame. Fortune. Family. It was all just so perfect. Perhaps too perfect.

Regardless, it seemed real. He did nothing to make anyone believe his life was anything other than a fairy tale. He did nothing to tarnish his image. Until earlier this week.

Suddenly everything changed. Suddenly the crystal clear record shattered. Suddenly everything was different, everything was tainted.

So why am I so upset by Tiger’s unfortunate situation?

While I consider myself to be a relatively optimistic person, I find that I can also be pretty skeptical at times. Especially when it comes to people and especially when it comes to men. Ordinary people (I’m not just singling out men here) have the amazing ability to turn themselves into fantastic actors of deception. The sad fact of the matter is that people can portray themselves in any way they like. If someone wants you to believe that they are a kind, honest, trustworthy person, more likely than not, they have the ability to do so.

This is why so many relationships fail. Because somewhere along the line, the acting slips just a little and the true colors of the person start to shine through. This indirectly aligns with the theme of my previous post. Whenever my mother and I were having a discussion about the opposite sex, usually the following words of wisdom would be thrown into the conversation:

“You can’t change people. And people can’t change themselves unless they truly want to change.”

I will always have my mother to thank for instilling this powerful mindset in me. It is foolish to believe that anyone can ever really change. Sure, people can “change” all the time. But the changes that are possible are changes on the surface, changes within the context, changes due to circumstances and surroundings. Not deep changes of character.

Back to Tiger. It saddens me that Tiger, someone who is in the spotlight and under constant scrutiny, was able to maintain his image for as long as he did. It is heartbreaking that someone who seemingly has it all (and yes, I realize not everything is as it seems) still feels the need to resort to something like this. It makes me question the human condition. It leaves me little hope for the rest of us. And it proves that the acting has gotten better.

I want to have faith in people. I want to have faith in relationships. But it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to do so.

Self-Defense vs. Self-Sabotage?

For as long as I can remember my mom has always taught me that I didn’t need someone else to complete me as a person.

“Emily, you don’t need a man to make you happy.”

This lesson has been drilled into my mind since I was a tiny, innocent, curious, impressionistic 4-year-old. I didn’t fully realize the impact this seemingly simple concept had on me until recently.

I have never really been particularly good at relationships. I have always jokingly attributed my relationship issues to my selfish need for personal time and space, but I am starting to see that might not be entirely true.

I am starting to wonder if my independence is simply a means of self-defense and self-preservation. I need to be in control. I need to feel as if I have the upper hand. And I do not like being vulnerable.

Honestly, I have never had a problem with this outlook. I feel as if it has molded me into the strong and confident person that I am today. However, I also feel as if my stubbornness to remain independent and self-reliant may also act as a barrier to potential relationships.

This past weekend, my 13-year-old sister asked me an interesting question:

“Emily, have you ever even been dumped?”

For some reason, the question totally caught me off guard even though it was relevant to the conversation we were having at the time. Of course, the answer is yes. But that’s the short answer. The longer answer would consist of my explaining that yes, once upon time this little girl was the dumpee, but over the last 5, 6, even 7 years, I honestly can’t recall a time when someone else ended the “relationship.” I use the word relationship loosely here, because I can’t even remember the last time I gave a relationship a fair chance.

I am always the one to end it. Usually before it even gets started.

Sometimes it’s because I am legitimately not attracted to the person in question. Sometimes it’s because I feel smothered. And sometimes I am simply scared. So I end it. I end it before I lose control of the situation. I end it before I lose the upper hand. I end it before I become vulnerable. And I end it before I get hurt.

So now, in light of a sudden surge of self-reflection alongside a few recent events, I am questioning my sense of self and I am questioning my reasons for being so stubbornly independent. Am I really defending myself or am I subconsciously sabotaging myself and preventing myself from having a shot at a happy, healthy, semi-normal relationship?

Ignorance can be bliss.

Ignorance: the state in which one lacks knowledge, is unaware of something or chooses to subjectively ignore information.

Yes, ignorance, as in the last two of the three definitions listed above, can be bliss.

Sometimes it is better to be unaware of something. And sometimes it is better to ignore information. However, the ability to subjectively ignore something becomes increasingly difficult once awareness has come into play.

Sometimes I really hate the powers of the Internet. I hate that it occasionally turns me into Nancy Drew. And whenever I play detective I usually end up uncovering mind-consuming information only to discover that I would have much preferred to have maintained a state of ignorance. So here I am, armed with information I would rather be unaware of, trying to figure out how to continue on and subjectively ignore the information I have just uncovered.

It is not easy.

Instead of subjectively ignoring the information that is newly available to me, I find that I am analyzing it obsessively. And I am most likely adding far more context to the story than what actually exists. Which, in turn, is making me a crazy person.

I think it’s time for another Internet detox. It seems that Thanksgiving is coming at the perfect time. And then, after the holiday, I’ll have a detox of the normal persuasion. And then poof! – just like that, I’ll be back to normal. Well, “normal” for me anyways.

 

What are you thinking?

…He asks me. For the third, fourth, maybe even fifth time in the span of just a few brief hours.

I look around the room absentmindedly as if critically examining everything – and anything! – that comes into view. I scramble through my head, wondering what to say – or do? – in order to buy a little time.

We were involved in a game that allowed us to deny as long as possible all involvement in its process, a game whose principle rule states that it should be played as though it were not being played, both parties proceeding as though unaware of its existence. We spoke a language that used ordinary words but gave them new meanings, exploiting the tension between coded and ordinary signification.

I can feel his eyes on me. Is he trying to read my mind? A sense of panic starts to spread over my entire body. I figet nervously. I try to direct my thoughts elsewhere – just in case – he actually navigates his way into my head.

Finally I offer up a response. “Nothing,” I say, as I smile at him, ever so slightly, still attempting to mask the spiderweb of everything but nothing in mind.

This has to acceptable. After all, I think to myself, I was just moments ago looking aimlessly around the room as if I was a lost child. And at least this is different from my last response to the same question, which consisted of a short and simple, “I don’t know.”

But, crazy as it sounds, the truth is, I really don’t know what I’m thinking. As soon as I identify one thought, another pops in my head as a rebuttal to the first.

I suffocated on question marks, symbols of the mind’s attempt to understand the chaos: “Why me? Why this? Why now?” I scoured the past to look for origins, omens, offenses, anything that might count as a reason for the unreason that surrounded me…a pattern I might superimpose on the random dots and dashes of my life.

And so we continue the game. Each expertly pretending as if it wasn’t being played. Each doing everything and anything in our power to prevent from acknowledging what is so obviously taking place. Yes, it seems crazy. But the nonsense kind of makes sense. And it’s fun. At least for right now…

I recognized that things needed to remain unsaid. The most attractive are not those who allow us to kiss them at once [we soon feel ungrateful] or those who never allow us to kiss them [we soon forget them], but those who coyly lead us between the two extremes.

So yes, for right now, this works for us – or me, rather. Just as I haven’t really told him what I’m thinking, he hasn’t really told me what he’s thinking. And quite honestly, I’m not sure if I even want to know. That information could be dangerous, it could change everything. And besides, what’s wrong with prolonging the delightful, almost addictive, uncertainty?

The above quotes are taken from the fantastic novel, On Love, by Alain de Botton. A truly fascinating read that I recommend to anyone interested in the way people fall in love and in lust.