I can remember the days when men saw me as beautiful and mysterious. They had a respect for my nature and valued my presence. It used to be that man would do anything possible to protect me...But now, men and pain are synonymous. I've become nothing more than a causality. Stuck in a grief-stricken state; held at the mercy of a man's desire. As each hungry, handsome face comes and goes, I am viewed only as something to be obtained, but never cared for. Possessed, but never cherished. In the beginning, I blamed myself...convinced myself that I was attracting these self-occupied neanderthals. But even after getaways with the girls, consistent church attendance, and 2 days a week in therapy...I arrived back at the original conclusion: Men only want; they never give.
Truthfully, I'm just tired. Most times, too tired to maintain my alertness. I manage to rest my guard so that I can allow a sense of peace into my bedroom. I begin to embrace the serenity I feel while I take up both sides of the bed; stretching my limbs across my solitude and breathe in long enough to taste the air. It's bliss, I swear.
And then it happens.
Another curious, handsome carnivore creeps his way past my office doorway. Or the seat next to me on the bus. Or the adjacent study table at the library. Though well-intentioned, he is like all the rest: a souped up suitor with a superman complex...seeking to be the cure to my disdain. In the end, I am worse off because of him. He is attracted to my contentment with being by myself, because he does/will not notice me until he sees that I am blessedly whole and happy without him. Yet he swears that loving him will add value to my life.
He sees me as fresh ground to tread, and secretly desires to tap into my virtue and rob it from me as if I am his fountain of youth. As my history constantly depicted, once I am depleted...he leaves.
And I roam through the same sad cycle of Pain, Recovery, Contentment, Pursuit, and Pain again. Over and over.
I wish they would all just leave me alone.
...Or love me.