This isn’t about cats. I just liked that picture so thought I’d use it. I should really have found / made a butterfly one (because this is a wee bit about butterflies) but I can’t be fucked logging into sl just now so you’re stuck with me and my cat. 😋
What is it about? Well… relationships I guess. I’ve thought for a while that humans really aren’t actually designed to be in relationships for any length of time. Those of you close to me will know this as I’ve probably shared the premise with you already however I’ve never actually written about it here.
The secret bowels my blog are rammed full with heartfelt posts that I’ve either never published or which I’ve published, considered,and then removed within the blink of an eye as they’ve been too personal and too close to the bone for me. This one is a wee bit personal too I guess however it’s also observational so mibbie it will manage to stay the distance.
As always my posts are a mix of RL and SL as both are very interwoven for me. I do think however that all of this nonsense I’m about to spew forth can be applied both to RL and SL, only in SL the timeframe is much, much shorter 😏
Taking of duration, this is probably going to be a long one so I hope you’ve got a coffee, or a wine, hahaha wines probably preferable for the ensuing cynicism.
Awright enough waffle!
We are completely designed to fail at relationships.
And I’ll tell you why.
Firstly, I want you to think about the moment you initally meet someone, the ‘right’ someone. That tantalising attraction you feel. Sparks literally fly when you touch, it feels electric. Your pulse quickens, you get butterflies (see! butterflies!), their name takes on a special significance.
And this is just on your side.
What if its mutual? Then it’s explosive! This is amazing! You finally understand all the love songs, the poems, the art. The concept of soulmates. It’s happened you’ve found him or her. It was true after all. Your entire life has led to this moment, it’s magical, meant to be. It feels so right. Your partner is perfect, you get blissfully lost in their kisses for hours, their body is so incredibly fascinating to you, you adore each pore, want to know every inch intimately. Sex feels like something otherworldly, it’s like your bodies were made for each other, you fit so perfectly, everything feels right, connected. Joined. You move completely in synch, you’re two missing puzzle pieces that have finally found each other and clicked perfectly into place. It’s euphoric, a drug like ecstasy. Touches cause immediate, delicious goosebumps. You stare into each others eyes and talk all night putting the world to rights discovering everything, anything about each other and you want to know it all, each little fact or dream or hope revealed endearing you further. Dinner dates last for hours, you forget the food, forget to order or even look at the menu, have to be prompted by the waiter two times, when the food does come it’s goes cold, largely untouched. You have no time for food, you want to spend every second eating up this perfect partner you have found, drinking them in. You have so much in common, did two people ever gel so well before? Surely never. You find out about all of his or her little quirks like switching off all the sockets before you leave the house are adorable – how safety conscious and thoughtful, he/she really cares!
Then what? Well, then, unfortunately it all begins to change doesn’t it? Admit it, that honeymoon period doesn’t last. It leaves … departs in a manner of ways, it can be rapid or slow and drawn out however leave it does. One day you just realise you don’t feel that way anymore. It’s gone. Changed. You realise “Happily Ever After” is one of the greatest lies ever told. It’s constructed and fake and about as far from reality as it gets.
The first part never lasts, we’re humans and inevitably our stupid brain chemistry kicks in and we start to wonder if we’re missing out, if this is it? Or is there something else, something better out there? As we move from the honeymoon period into the companionship period, we, silly fickle things that we are, begin to miss the butterflies. Those quirks we used to find adorable aren’t so adorable anymore in fact they become intensely annoying. Stick a pencil through their eye annoying. Switching off ALL the sockets? For fucks sake why? Do you think we’ll ever get out the door this side of 2018?! Sex is okay, kinda boring, comfortable, known. Dinners now involve mobile phones and conversations about the food as opposed your deepest darkest fears. You have stupid ridiculous fights about who’s turn it is to load the dishwasher. Your messed up brain starts to assign ownership, you start thinking of them as yours my boyfriend, my partner, something that has become part of you. We think of them as ours and begin to take them for granted. We nag them, we are short tempered, if we have a bad day we take it out on them, we hang up abruptly we become inconsiderate and stop thinking about their needs. And they do the same.
We begin to wonder if we settled. If this is it. Is this what happens to everyone? Is it inevitable. Was it all a lie, is this the reality. Should we re-adjust, try to stop thinking about this, forget it and try to be happy, be content because after all it isn’t bad.It’s just not… good like it was before.
I know some folk, a lot of folk do settle, especially if kids come along and complicate things further. You sacrifice the wonderful for the mundane. Because yes, I do think its a sacrifice. You’re sacrificing your butterflies. No more dates, not more hazy honeymoons.
So what next? What happens if you do choose to stay?
If you do make it past this phase you enter the long haul stage. You merge, become a team. There is no more magic the butterflies are long dead and withered. Kisses are on the cheek and usually reserved for hellos and goodbyes. You don’t snog like before, thoughts about their mouth are usually more centred around their smelly bad breath and the last time they cleaned their teeth. You inhabit a routine interspersed with some ‘nice stuff’ to trick you both into feeling like it’s really okay. Date night. A movie a dinner. To give the semblance of … what? Romance? It’s all just become a tick box routine though. Just something else to be done alongside taking the rubbish out. You begin to resent them and the status quo a little.
Then something unsought and unexpected happens…something that brings you back to life a little. That hot new guy in the gym? He definitely likes you. It’s okay to flirt back a little, its harmless isn’t it? It doesn’t mean anything does it? Not really. It’s fine! You’re human, you deserve to feel nice, attractive, wanted. And there goes your brain again, it’s off sending out those romance signals. The butterflies are back. There’s excitement again, newness. The awakening of the attraction, the longing for pleasure again…
You’re not getting on with your partner anyway, it’s over, dead. You need to grasp this chance, take it, if you were to forgo it due to some type of misguided loyalty you’d only resent your partner more wouldn’t you? You’d regret it. You need to act on it. You want to.
He or she found out. Maybe you told them, maybe you didn’t. Your comfortable relationship comes crashing to an end and your partner leaves. There’s anger, betrayal, hurt. Jealousy.
And now your longterm partner has left so you should be happy right? You got what you wanted. So what does your stupid fucked up brain then decide to do? It tells you you AREN’T happy at all. This ISN’T what you wanted. You want THEM. You HAVE to get them back. You made a terrible, terrible mistake. Of course it does. Our brains are a fucking contradictory carcrash. There really is no hope for us.
We remember only the good times, looking back through rose tinted glasses. He / she was the love of your life, how could you be so blind? And of course they don’t WANT YOU back now. It becomes a living hell. Torturous even. All those heartbreak songs are speaking directly to you. He was the love of your life and you traded him for a meathead from the gym? How could you be so stupid.
We bombard them, we just can’t help it. We text, we call we email. Desperate, pathetic. If only we can make them see we regret it, we’ve seen sense. Please baby, give me one more chance.
Humans can’t handle heartbreak. They simply can’t they go nuts. Act completely irrationally. Crazily. They become someone else. I think death might easier to come to terms with than heartbreak when I think about it. Breakups are never easy they are never amicable, someone’s lying there if they are saying they are. Hearts never break even. People have to learn to move on and that takes time. Differing amounts of time. Differing methods.
Some people can’t move on however that’s irrelevant. You have to pretend you have. Because you’re only deemed okay again when you have. Eventually your friends, family, nearest and dearest will get sick of your sadness, your longing your depths of despair. People only want to comfort you for so long. It’s a finite period.
You’re only deemed okay when you’re back in the cycle again.
And maybe, a few years later (the next week if its SL haha) you are doing okay. Times a healer after all, you’re feeling good again. Then you see a guy, at a gig, he catches your eye and smiles and your tummy does that little flip and those butterflies begin to stir their cobwebby wings….
Here we go again.
This time it will be different.