If you want to chew on something worthwhile, figure out what it is about yourself, that makes you feel responsible for this person and their emotions and/or future. You’ll fall right back into this situation with her or someone just like her if you don’t confront the part of yourself that takes on this burden.
I think that the way that I handled the lengthy whatsapp messaging incident is as clear a signal as can be about the healthiness of my boundaries, and exactly how much responsibility I take for another persons emotions.
I was even willing to let her seek out a new lover at that time while she was texting, if that is what worked for her. She’s an adult, and I’m not an acting babysitter, nor do I play one in real life.
Here is what happened just before the phone incident:
She’d somehow picked up this habit of of saying “Daddy come here”, when I was otherwise engaged in work or other interests. I had to make light of it by coming up and pulling on her Barbie string and have her say “Daddy come here” whenever I pulled the string. She’d be lying on the bed and I’d be standing up, facing her, giving her full attention and talking to her, and she’d still say “Daddy come here”.
“I AM here! I’m right here!”
She’d miss me even when I was right there.
She was getting really clingy, and insecure, and I just did not want to have to babysit that insecurity.
So there I was standing up, joking and refusing to cuddle (she was not seeking sex), and she crawled off of the bed and I instinctively backed away, hands up in front of me making an invisible barrier. I’d back away a few inches, and she’d crawl forward more, until finally I let her get all the way close, and she started clinging onto my legs, naked, wimpering a bit.
So I got on the bed with her and the next thing I know I’m telling her the story of how when I was a child me and my brother used to play The Blob game. I described the movie The Blob, and how an alien goo landed on earth in an asteroid impact, and how a teenager touched it, and how a small blob of goo slowly ate his hand, until the next day his friends visited him to discover all that was left was a gloobing pulsating mass of Blob. Which eventually ate most of his friends, and later grew to wallow down main street, eating up buildings.
So my brothers and I would hide under a blanket, slowly crawl up to the victim, then rear and and scream “BLOB!” and engulf the other person in the blanket.
I accidentally hit her face as I engulfed her, and she took that as a sign of deliberate hurtful indifference towards her – “you play too rough!”. Again confusing her own feelings with reality – and deliberately and obtusely refusing to differentiate between the two. Then she started actually crying like a little child, in pain – for way longer than any physical pain could have been causing her anguish.
Trying to justify her overblown reaction and contention that I play too rough, she gave the example of how a few times I’d patted her on the back, with the exact same force that a parent burps a child. Everyone else I’ve done that to has found it very comforting.
I tried to laugh it off and demonstrate that this is the exact pressure applied to babies, and explain that she is not made of flower petals.
“Ow! That hurts!”
Psychosomatic pain is real, sure, but get a fucking grip man. There is such a thing as over-reacting, and the fact that your emotions are sending you signals out of touch with what is happening in the real world does not mean that the real world is wrong. It means you are out of touch with reality. That is NOT an excuse to complain about unfair treatment! Actual crying, like an actual child – regression to a child like state, in order to curry attention and favorable treatment.
I. just. was. not. into it. I did not buy her narrative for one second. No extra sympathy points for you girl.
Back to the Blob. Apparently my subconscious had made some association between her, clinging at my feet, and the Blob.
Ya, she was trying to eat up my free will, my life force, my future, and put every last one of my balls into her purse for safe keeping.
I was guilty of leading her on. At first I really wasn’t quite sure if our thing would lead to kids, but after I realized no, I still led her on, and took a hit to my lifestyle as a trade off. It was mostly working out, I thought. Until I started to get resentful at her showing up at my door. That wasn’t so good.
She refused to announce herself as standard girl ploy. If I never know when she’ll arrive it’s more difficult to arrange a private schedule. She was slowly trying to tame my balls, boiling the frog. That actually works for a lot of guys.
But for some of us it’s really a hopeless lost cause.
As Blackdragon says, Alpha guys WILL cheat, sooner or later. It’s not even their choice. They WILL cheat, and they WILL get caught.
I was trying the Alpha 1.0 relationship game – and got caught and broken up with enough times that the next step was to actually try to play by the stated rules.
Of course many guys can play by those rules, and will never be able to empathize. Some guys don’t have the option to play by those rules. We simply can’t. If we try, everything gets out of whack, and no one is happy.
I wasn’t even fucking her every day anymore, and we started to have a few mediocre sex sessions. And I didn’t even care. My health isn’t great, but getting soft with her on top is still not a great relationship sign.
That would not happen if I were playing by my own rules. My own system works great – I get sexually supercharged, am very attentive, never neglectful. I’m simply a better man, better person, better lover, give more, and on and on, if someone can accommodate me being me without trying to keep my balls in their their fucking purse.