“We’ve only just begun” is over; Or: I got lucky by not getting lucky
Sometimes I hate that I have to learn lessons the hard way, but in this case it could have been a lot worse. I have my health and kitschy Carpenters songs. The fact is I’m no longer rooming with a man with whom I’ve been pursing romantic entanglement, but with close female friends from my program. We plan to watch movies, talk of school, drink beer, and work on grant applications at the conference we’re all presenting at during spring break. Moreover, I no longer have a “friend” (the same man I’m no longer rooming with) flying to visit me in my tiny studio apartment in Tucson after next week’s conference.
Upon reflection, there were many difficulties, technical and otherwise. Let’s put an emphasis on word “many” and its origin from the Greek: poly. Combine that with the word “amor.” Next, add a person who declines to define himself as such only to later cryptically “come out” as living a “lifestyle” he denied any interest in practicing. What does this all add up to? A crash course in the darker aspects of myself and a recognition that I respect myself enough to put boundaries in place so that I don’t risk self harm.
I’ve been separated from R and living on my own since the end of January. Since then I’ve learned some things about myself. First thing: I’m far too easily conned by seductive rhetoricians. My philosophical training taught me to be tough minded, skeptical, and to research matters carefully. Thankfully, philosophy has not failed me.
Quintilian waxes rhetorical about the virtuous man who speaks well. I’ve wondered aloud about the eloquent leader who makes false promises in order to gain power and gratify his ego. I don’t have to speculate about the later as he is no longer merely a theoretical supposition. I have firsthand experience with a charismatic liar. The ruse was mediated through ASCII, snail mail, and the telephone. And, the ruse is up.
I’m just grateful I didn’t wake up with dirty, bloody knees and have to walk my sad self over to campus health. And, I’m thankful to be learning more about my shadow side in singledom. In a nutshell, I like myself more these days and that’s a good thing. It means not taking risks with questionable characters with a knack for flirting and emotional manipulation.
This post would not be complete without a badass video about the repercussions of honey theft. The video flies in the face of the whole “do no harm” mantra. It’s fun though and I’m too earnest for liars who like to add a “baby,” “dear,” “sweet,” or “love” to conversations for flourish. I hope to never be duped by that rubbish again.
Lady Gaga and Beyoncé in “Telephone.”