Yesterday, I received this message from someone I’d been chatting to briefly online:
“So you game, spend all day in pyjamas, and love being submissive. Would it sound extremely creepy to say you’re literally my perfect idea of a girlfriend?”
I think that, a lot of the time, that would come off as creepy.
But my response, eventually, was: “haha no don’t worry, I’ve gotten it before. Rest assured, I possess a myriad of flaws.”
If you ever get to know me, I didn’t add, you’ll find that out.
The problem is that I have heard it before. A lot. And, to a certain extent, I can almost understand why. I’m not unattractive, I’m generally polite and articulate enough, I have a variety of interests and think I can hold a passable conversation most of the time, I’m musical, I do game, and I love being submissive.
On paper, I’m not bad. On paper, I’m more than one guy’s idea of the “perfect girlfriend.”
But the thing is – as any of my exes and good friends could testify to – that’s not me.
Because I’m also an academic, so I’ll talk about paradigms and Baudrillard and jump from thought to thought with links so tenuous and far-fetched that I’d have to write a paper to explain it to myself, let alone to you. I’m a music nerd, and an elitist one at that.^ Mild autism means that I’ll say the wrong things at the wrong times far too often. I’m argumentative as anything, and a little too open about the way I feel regarding engrained social narratives.^^
I have mental health issues which I manage, but sometimes I can’t help but message friends till I know they’re exhausted and overwhelmed. The level of self-absorption that I am capable would be almost impressive, were it not so unappealing. I will cling to you like a limpet, force affection and love onto you till it is cloying and painful, and you have to run to escape the sickening scent. There are skeletons in my proverbial closet that I’m still trying to excavate, and in some cases I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.^^^
There are many more, but I think I’ve made my point.
And it’s why, whenever I see or hear a message like that, something twists in my gut. Because I’ve heard it from ex-friends and ex-lovers, and somehow that makes the plunge so much more painful; because no matter how much I do, I’m still as easy to abandon as I was when I was eleven years old and alone on the playground, working through music theory and fantasy novels the size of my head.
And what can I say to something like that? What can I say when I’m a shiny unicorn in someone’s eyes, and I know that if I let them come closer they’re going to see that my horn is a trick of my light, that my coat is speckled with dark hairs and dust.^^^^
What can I say, but I am flawed. I am not perfect, and you will brush this off as modesty and not remember that I warned you.
I am not your unicorn.
And I’m tired of telling you that.
^Tchaikovsky is my bae and I will fight you.
^^My thesis is about this in India. Feel free to read it, because it makes sense for one.
^^^None of them are literal skeletons. I think.
^^^^My horse looks like this, and she’s the most perfect thing ever. Maybe there’s something to that.