Don't Hate the Game, Hate the Player!

Ever heard the saying "Don't hate the player; hate the game"? If you have, chances are, you're as disgusted and repelled by those whose dim-witted brain deemed that ridiculous idiom suitable to leave their mouth! Considering that if there were no 'game', (nor any man willing and immature enough to wish to play it), womankind across the globe, and through the ages, would have a much more blissful existence; I adamantly object!

I do not wish my first ever blog to descend into a bitter, man-hating diatribe of personal observation and experience, but I may only write of what I know, and I may only know of what I experience. In this instance, I will describe what I have experienced, warts and all, in the hope that other women who read this entry having endured similar relationship torture may find comfort, humour and compassion in my wretched plight.

My story begins at the dramatic finale of a relationship that lasted an eventful four years. Why the finale? - Often the epiphany of how to find sheer peace and happiness in ourselves springs forth out of pure despair, hurt and sadness:

I sat in a pile on the floor, hugging my knees, rocking ever so slightly back and forth as yet another tear slid down my burning cheek and made the damp pool on the knee of my trouser leg another two millimetres wider in diameter. I thought I was numb, but then a memory of us in happier times filled my mind in vivid Technicolor to cruelly reopen my still-raw emotional wounds. I felt as though the pain would never subside, disabling me and locking me to that cold, hard floor for the rest of my gloomy days. But soon, the brief catalogue of treasured times I'd shared with him ran out, and all I was left to recall were the multitude of repressed, hurtful, and distressing memories that had gradually got worse rather than better.

I suddenly had the realisation that he would never have committed to me, never let our relationship progress, and would never be satisfied with all that I am and could be in the future. I felt rejected, used, angry, confused and scared all at once. Nonetheless, accompanying that realisation was another, more upbeat thought; 'so what?!' After all, it would be his loss, and a sorry one at that! Deep down, I know that I truly like who I am and everything I can be to myself, my friends, my family and, perhaps, a person who likes everything that makes me the woman that I am too.

I'm a rather shy, conscientious and polite person, quite imperceptible in many ways in fact. I am not the life and soul; I am not comfortable at the centre of attention; I fear anything shiny, reflective or with a lens. I have a deep-seated inability to take compliments or accept that one has been directed at me in an ephemeral revelation of pure honesty and kindness. I often feel unworthy of having a chance at life, and have a relentless suspicion that I fail miserably to reach my potential, my dreams, and the expectations of others. I put everybody else on my priority list except myself due to the guilt and shame of being such an utter waste of precious metaphysical matter.

However, with that break-up and its appreciated epiphany, came a renaissance in my life. I haven't had to make a concerted effort to invest in my self-esteem; I haven't spent hours meditating, reading self-help books or practising positive affirmations in the mirror. All I had to do was to stop existing, and start living! My singledom has brought complete autonomy, freedom, independence and acceptance. Once I had made up my mind that I would embrace this opportunity to be free of someone else's shackles, I moved on and never looked back.

I am now able to pursue hobbies and pastimes that always engaged my interest but had taken a back seat to his preoccupation with workaholism, the internet and all things car-related. I can see my friends and family whenever I choose, as often as is fun, and for as long as I like. Should the mood take me, I could go for a long walk in the rain to cleanse my mind, or disappear into a good book for hours on end. I don't have to explain myself to anybody else; provided I do not harm another through my words or actions, I shouldn't have to justify my decisions and life choices.

In short, I have reached a point where I am happy in my own skin, heart and mind, and it's not because of him, it's because of me! I could never trade in my present sense of contentedness and pride for my once-saturated sense of inadequacy, self-loathing and desperation. The bittersweet irony is that somehow my newfound state of self-assurance and sanguinity is proving to be quite the aphrodisiac. I am now, seemingly, the most perfect, beautiful, fascinating, hilarious and clever woman ever to have graced our fair planet.

But, why? Why do they always want us when we're genuinely not interested? If he knew this all along, or was at least aware of my positive attributes, why did he not behave accordingly? Why did he insist on making me feel as if I was diametrically opposed to all that was lovable? Why can't they all see that I'm not playing 'hard to get', I'm simply not playing at all?!

I wonder if it is a fatal flaw in the human race to blame for this infinite vicious circle of only desiring and chasing those who do not wish to be chased? I am convinced that men and women are fundamentally and completely incompatible for as long as one can only be attracted, snared and kept via strategic and continuous game plotting and execution. It's as though we are all feral creatures chasing our own (vestigial) tails! Hardly the mechanism of a so-say post modern civilisation!

I, for one, am sick and tired. The lethargy and disinterest that I feel towards the pursuit, attraction and dating of the opposite sex can only be compared to trying to survive a prolonged period without sleep, decent food, stimulating conversation, and having completed a pentathlon in quicksand. This is fine in itself; I have no problem with my desire to be on my own. To date, I have not suffered a Bridget Jones-esque panic attack about never meeting 'the one', having a ring on my finger, bearing his children and living happily ever after in our perfect, cosy home. Though, what does grind my last nerve is how irrepressibly annoying it is that I have become the one who does not wish to be chased, and I'm being chased like a fugitive from death row!

Please do not misconstrue my sentiment, for I'm sure that there are many people out there who would love to be in said predicament. I am not ungrateful for their frequently kind candour and courage to admit their affection and amorous intent toward me. The plain truth is that I have no need to share my life with anybody else at present. I'm revelling in the selfishness of indulging my passions, quashing any constraining fears, and discovering new facets of my identity. I have become a more complete person, and without the satisfaction of feeling whole, a relationship can never fill that vast void.

So, for everybody who has felt the acute sting and dull ache of heartbreak, consider this; you are not a pawn in the great relationship chessboard of life. You deserve more. Want more. Expect more, and you will get it! Never settle for anybody who doesn't make your knees weak, your stomach do backward somersaults and your heart flutter in nervous joy. Never settle for somebody whose face doesn't light up when you enter a room, whose true, innermost smile isn't reserved especially for you, or who doesn't try to show you their deepest affections every day. There is absolutely no reason whatsoever that you can't feel (almost!) perfectly happy for the rest of your life. Don't waste your time on those who attempt to make you waste your valuable time on their insecurities, mistakes and shortcomings. Be smart, have fun, be you!