Although along the same lines as the "what if he uses you" theory, one of the most frequent questions I hear has to do with the "bet" scenario: What if a guy has a bet with his buddies that he can get you into bed?
Well, this goes back to that trust issue. I don't trust in people easily. Some people find that strange, which always perplexes me. Trust, like respect, is earned. Do you trust someone you literally just met? Odds are, you don't.
Whether you realize it or not, there is some part of you that will remain guarded until you get to know the person better. Trust is as much a gift as it is a process.
When people tell me they trust me completely, I'm honored, and would never do anything to break that trust. Heck, I still have people's secrets going back to 8th grade! Guess what? I've never told anyone anything...and I never will. Why? Because they asked me not to tell a soul. I don't care that it was forever ago or that they probably don't remember the secrets themselves. I gave my word.
I guess what I'm saying is this: I'm going to get to know him before I trust him. Doesn't trust come before love, anyway? All I can do is have faith that I won't come across some cold-hearted son-of-a-gun that sees me as nothing more than a bet.
My instincts have never let me down before, and I imagine they won't when the time comes.
Bottom Line: I've fine-tuned my b.s. radar...I can usually smell it a mile away. And you can bet I'll go to y'all and my mama for second opinions. ;)
And, ya know, if for some reason a slick s.o.b. squeaks past my b.s. detector, I'll just call up the vengeance demon to right things for me...(I'm joking...it's a Buffy reference, for those who watched the show--very funny character, when she lost her powers anyway...bit scary before then, though.). ;)
Showing posts with label What If Wednesday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label What If Wednesday. Show all posts
What If Wednesday: What If He's Married?
"What if the man you are meant to be with is married? Sometimes you can't control who you fall in love with."
Yes, this is one I've heard. This question naturally came from a woman who has been in love with a married man, had an affair with him, effectively aided in breaking up his marriage, bore his child, then ended up dumped shortly thereafter.
For me, the answer is simple: If he is married, he was never meant to be with me in the first place. If a man is married, I look the other way; frankly, if a man is even dating someone, I look the other way. Married men, boyfriends, men who are dating someone, are simply not options.
I respect marriage vows, even if they are not my own. Likewise, I would never encroach on another woman's relationship, no matter how open or serious it may be. It all kind-of goes back to that golden rule.
So, to recap, if he's married, he was not the one meant to be with me. If he's in a relationship on any level, he's off limits. Free and clear and single--that's the motto. That's just how my mama raised me...and it's what I believe is right.
Yes, this is one I've heard. This question naturally came from a woman who has been in love with a married man, had an affair with him, effectively aided in breaking up his marriage, bore his child, then ended up dumped shortly thereafter.
For me, the answer is simple: If he is married, he was never meant to be with me in the first place. If a man is married, I look the other way; frankly, if a man is even dating someone, I look the other way. Married men, boyfriends, men who are dating someone, are simply not options.
I respect marriage vows, even if they are not my own. Likewise, I would never encroach on another woman's relationship, no matter how open or serious it may be. It all kind-of goes back to that golden rule.
So, to recap, if he's married, he was not the one meant to be with me. If he's in a relationship on any level, he's off limits. Free and clear and single--that's the motto. That's just how my mama raised me...and it's what I believe is right.
What If Wednesday: "What If He's Dead?"
Great. Thanks. Yeah. "What if he's dead?" This was the ever-so-thoughtful musing of a rather lofty acquaintance. "Maybe your soul mate isn't even of this world. What then?"
I imagine the look on my face was something between dumbfounded and horrified. Now, I've joked about this before, mainly in the vein of that film, City of Angels, where Nick Cage (angel) falls in love with Meg Ryan (human)--beautiful and really, really depressing (you know if you've seen the film). So, yes, I've contemplated the idea, but it's always been fleeting at best and never really something I seriously considered...until Lofty Lee verbally vomited all over my chicken Cesar salad.
"Sooo, what if he's dead?" asked Lofty Lee.
She sure isn't giving this one up. "I really don't know. Maybe he'll come come back or reincarnate within someone else currently living. How's that?" I said, half joking, half ticked.
"Well, by the time he reincarnates, you'll be ancient, according to my beliefs on reincarnation," she said, far too seriously. Lofty Lee is very...literal...or scientific, take your pick.
"Ah, well, there you go then. I'll live a long, loveless life with nothing but my Marc Jacobs' bags to keep me company." This was my attempt to subtly end the conversation.
"Yes, speaking of those...don't you think they are a little overpriced?"
Well, isn't she a peach.
Did I mention she carries a Prada (not a knock-off)? Yeah.
I'm thinking she's trying to start a battle of the designer handbags. I decided to take the high road...sort-of.
Clearing my throat, I asked, "Do you happen to have change for a hundred?" I knew she would have to place her Prada on the table, out in the open.
"Of course," she said, digging through her Prada for her wallet.
"Really nice matching Prada bag and wallet," I said casually...and genuinely (they were gorgeous).
Her face turning a truly embarrassing shade of red, Lofty Lee coyly replied, "Oh, yes, thank you."
No one shames Marc Jacobs or my handbags...or suggests my soul mate might be dead.
I imagine the look on my face was something between dumbfounded and horrified. Now, I've joked about this before, mainly in the vein of that film, City of Angels, where Nick Cage (angel) falls in love with Meg Ryan (human)--beautiful and really, really depressing (you know if you've seen the film). So, yes, I've contemplated the idea, but it's always been fleeting at best and never really something I seriously considered...until Lofty Lee verbally vomited all over my chicken Cesar salad.
"Sooo, what if he's dead?" asked Lofty Lee.
She sure isn't giving this one up. "I really don't know. Maybe he'll come come back or reincarnate within someone else currently living. How's that?" I said, half joking, half ticked.
"Well, by the time he reincarnates, you'll be ancient, according to my beliefs on reincarnation," she said, far too seriously. Lofty Lee is very...literal...or scientific, take your pick.
"Ah, well, there you go then. I'll live a long, loveless life with nothing but my Marc Jacobs' bags to keep me company." This was my attempt to subtly end the conversation.
"Yes, speaking of those...don't you think they are a little overpriced?"
Well, isn't she a peach.
Did I mention she carries a Prada (not a knock-off)? Yeah.
I'm thinking she's trying to start a battle of the designer handbags. I decided to take the high road...sort-of.
Clearing my throat, I asked, "Do you happen to have change for a hundred?" I knew she would have to place her Prada on the table, out in the open.
"Of course," she said, digging through her Prada for her wallet.
"Really nice matching Prada bag and wallet," I said casually...and genuinely (they were gorgeous).
Her face turning a truly embarrassing shade of red, Lofty Lee coyly replied, "Oh, yes, thank you."
No one shames Marc Jacobs or my handbags...or suggests my soul mate might be dead.
What If Wednesday: What If He Uses You?
Friend: What if you do all this waiting just to fall for a guy who will use you, mark a notch on his bedpost, and leave you high and dry?
Can't say I haven't thought about it. There are plenty of men out there who would look at me as some sort of challenge or conquest--"who's gonna lay the virgin?"
Usually, I can smell a line of B.S. a mile away, but my mom worries I will come across a slick-smooth-talker.
So what do I do? I already struggle with trusting someone with my heart, but having to worry about whether or not this man is going to use me is, admittedly, a little stressful.
If I dwell on the possibility of being used, I will never open up to the possibility of finding love. That's the truth of it. Suppose I could just make him put a ring on it, which would be the ideal happy ending/happy beginning. ;) Ah, but that's a topic for another day...
For the purposes of this post, let's answer the questions: What will I do if a guy uses me? Will I let him break me? Will I fall apart? Will I live with regret?
If a man does chose to use me, and I fall blindly victim to his antics, then shame on him. He will have to live with it and face a higher justice one day. Remember the golden rule? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Will I let him break me or fall apart: Unequivocally, no. He may wound my heart, but he will never break me; all I need to do is look at everything my ancestors had to endure and overcome to survive...a broken heart will not break my soul.
Will I live with regret: Honestly, I can't answer this one. I would hope not...
What do you think? Are most men just in it for the conquest?
Can't say I haven't thought about it. There are plenty of men out there who would look at me as some sort of challenge or conquest--"who's gonna lay the virgin?"
Usually, I can smell a line of B.S. a mile away, but my mom worries I will come across a slick-smooth-talker.
So what do I do? I already struggle with trusting someone with my heart, but having to worry about whether or not this man is going to use me is, admittedly, a little stressful.
If I dwell on the possibility of being used, I will never open up to the possibility of finding love. That's the truth of it. Suppose I could just make him put a ring on it, which would be the ideal happy ending/happy beginning. ;) Ah, but that's a topic for another day...
For the purposes of this post, let's answer the questions: What will I do if a guy uses me? Will I let him break me? Will I fall apart? Will I live with regret?
If a man does chose to use me, and I fall blindly victim to his antics, then shame on him. He will have to live with it and face a higher justice one day. Remember the golden rule? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Will I let him break me or fall apart: Unequivocally, no. He may wound my heart, but he will never break me; all I need to do is look at everything my ancestors had to endure and overcome to survive...a broken heart will not break my soul.
Will I live with regret: Honestly, I can't answer this one. I would hope not...
What do you think? Are most men just in it for the conquest?
What If Wednesday: What If You Don't Find Love
Usually, I like to talk about the many "Why" questions I get because of my choice, but, alas, we have another type of question rearing its ugly head these days: the dreaded "What If" question.
Yesterday was a brilliant example of wanting to turn out the light, crawl under my covers, and hide. It all started with a Cowboys loss...okay, not really, I'm just being melodramatic (although I did suffer severe emotional distress due to that game...sort of...eh, I was just p'od).
The highlight of the day, however, had to be the question posed by my best friend: "What if you never find love? What will you do then?"
I felt like a dagger had gone straight through my heart...like I had just swallowed a glass of poisoned mead a la Harry Potter...like the Cowboys inexplicably decided not to take a knee before the half, coughed up the ball, and gave the Redskins their only touchdown of the game (the winning TD as it turns out)--wait, that actually happened.
Anyway...
I really didn't know how to answer. I was fumbling all over my words. It's not as if the thought hadn't crossed my mind; I just tend to shove it straight out of my conscious thinking.
BUT...
What if I DON'T find love? Do I faux fall for faux love? Do I just give it up and get it over with? Do I stay a virgin *gulp* forever? Do I settle for almost love?
I could feel the hives wanting to sprout all over my body; the chunks began rising dangerously in my throat. Then, like an angel somewhere heard my wordless panic, a song played on the radio--a song I haven't heard in so long...a song I always associated with my papaw: Have I Told You Lately by Rod Stewart. Whenever I hear that song, I know he is with me; I know he is telling me it will be okay. I instantly calmed down. Those pesky hives never popped out and my mind peacefully landed on one very comforting thought:
**For a reason beyond knowledge, I have to believe there is a purpose to me making this choice...a purpose I cannot possibly know or see. I believe in fate (although I don't always think kindly of her--and I'm sure fate is a her...she's far too, ahem, cranky-cruel sometimes) and I believe in God. I believe they are watching over me and maybe even guiding me to him, whoever he may be.**
I reckon I'm not ready to give up on love finding me. Yet. Should I never find love, I will handle it calmly and rationally...and it will not involve a bottle of Jack or a razor. (don't be alarmed, I'm just thinking of the movie The Wedding Date; Debra Messing's character says something along those lines prior to her sister's wedding...it's a funny statement, but definitely highlights the mood).
What if I don't find love? Well, I'm just not ready to face that possibility...not yet. Nope. Not gonna think about it. Here we go...time to puuuuuush that right outta my mind...again. *Sigh*
Yesterday was a brilliant example of wanting to turn out the light, crawl under my covers, and hide. It all started with a Cowboys loss...okay, not really, I'm just being melodramatic (although I did suffer severe emotional distress due to that game...sort of...eh, I was just p'od).
The highlight of the day, however, had to be the question posed by my best friend: "What if you never find love? What will you do then?"
I felt like a dagger had gone straight through my heart...like I had just swallowed a glass of poisoned mead a la Harry Potter...like the Cowboys inexplicably decided not to take a knee before the half, coughed up the ball, and gave the Redskins their only touchdown of the game (the winning TD as it turns out)--wait, that actually happened.
Anyway...
I really didn't know how to answer. I was fumbling all over my words. It's not as if the thought hadn't crossed my mind; I just tend to shove it straight out of my conscious thinking.
BUT...
What if I DON'T find love? Do I faux fall for faux love? Do I just give it up and get it over with? Do I stay a virgin *gulp* forever? Do I settle for almost love?
I could feel the hives wanting to sprout all over my body; the chunks began rising dangerously in my throat. Then, like an angel somewhere heard my wordless panic, a song played on the radio--a song I haven't heard in so long...a song I always associated with my papaw: Have I Told You Lately by Rod Stewart. Whenever I hear that song, I know he is with me; I know he is telling me it will be okay. I instantly calmed down. Those pesky hives never popped out and my mind peacefully landed on one very comforting thought:
**For a reason beyond knowledge, I have to believe there is a purpose to me making this choice...a purpose I cannot possibly know or see. I believe in fate (although I don't always think kindly of her--and I'm sure fate is a her...she's far too, ahem, cranky-cruel sometimes) and I believe in God. I believe they are watching over me and maybe even guiding me to him, whoever he may be.**
I reckon I'm not ready to give up on love finding me. Yet. Should I never find love, I will handle it calmly and rationally...and it will not involve a bottle of Jack or a razor. (don't be alarmed, I'm just thinking of the movie The Wedding Date; Debra Messing's character says something along those lines prior to her sister's wedding...it's a funny statement, but definitely highlights the mood).
What if I don't find love? Well, I'm just not ready to face that possibility...not yet. Nope. Not gonna think about it. Here we go...time to puuuuuush that right outta my mind...again. *Sigh*
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