I knew my relationship was dying because I’d seen him look more animated when buying bags of frozen peas, than in seeing me. I had a choice, ignore his current mood and pretend nothing was wrong OR verbally poke, prod, cry and manipulate him into telling me. Of course, I chose the later. “WHY DO YOU DO THIS?” he asked. “Why Kat, must you make things soooo COMPLICATED?”
“Whaaat? What is this complicated thing you speak of? For I am not complicated!” (I say using my theater training in an attempt to convince the both of us, of what I am about to say next). “Snooks, I am not complicated. If there is a comment that needs to be twisted around, to mean something other than what you want it to, or if there is a way I can distance myself, without hiring a moving truck…… I am the girl to do it! What is so complicated about that?”
I try to fight the urge of constructing my own negative narrative in relationships. I usually fail. On more than one occasion, I have been called Hurricane Katrina. Like a hurricane, I can level a relationship with my inner dialog, in one single swirl. Many women do this. Push a guy away with all their inner negative crap, testing their emotional boundaries. Make it a pattern and he will either reassure you he is going no where or tell you he is off to build huts in lower Mongolia.
How does one find love in the center of a hurricane? I suppose they might find it, but holding onto it is a another matter entirely.
It isn’t the voices in my head that create this inner dialog hurricane. It is my vagina. She fears being replaced by another younger, snappier version of herself. It is hard to drown out the voice of my vagina. She governs much of the way I date. Why most of my dating dark periods occurred while she was at the helm, steering us both onto an amazing cock at the other end of an assclown.
Though I can’t drown her voice out, I can recognize the areas of which she will most likely be vocal in. I have broken them down below:
Better not have had a life before this vagina syndrome:
I surreptitiously harvest details of your previous vagina (i.e. ex-girlfriend). If you tell me it stunk like the floormat of a truckstop bathroom and having sex with it was like throwing a hot dog down a hallway, but you’re still friends with it……. I will think you an ass-hole. And my vagina starts in….. if he is saying this about her, what the fuck do you think he is saying to his friends about you, Kat? And what the Hell does he mean, he is still friends with it?
My vagina’s theory on ex-girlfriends and their vaginas:
Any woman who has had her mouth around your penis….. you don’t need to be friends with. The only reason an ex-girlfriend has of being your friend, is to remind you of the last time her mouth was around your penis. Any woman who has had her vagina around your penis….. you don’t need to be friends with. The only reason a vagina has of being your friend, is to remind you of the last time it’s wet, warm juices, surrounded your penis.
Got a better Vadge than me syndrome:
You think my gal pal is hot? Oh, and she is funny too? My vagina alerts me to question: Does he want to fuck her too? You call it bonding; sharing a piece of your mind. I call it a quick descent into no Snatchville. Battling my vagina in these moments will eventually have you reluctant to have an opinion on anything other than the crunchiness of Cheese Crisps, then I’ll accuse you of being uncommunicative.
Other sound bytes to vagina narratives:
Gent: I travel a lot with my job.
My Vagina: He likes to fuck random vaginas on the road.
Gent: I am hanging with the guys this weekend?
My Vagina: What’s the vagina’s name?
Gent: I spoke to my mom about you.
My Vagina: Great! So his mom thinks you’re a bitch now too, Kat!
Gent: Is everything okay? You look tired.
My Vagina: He thinks you look like shit, Kat!
Gent: Can we have sex in the morning? I am so tired.
My Vagina: He had sex with another vagina earlier.
ENOUGH! VAGINA.. SHUT YOUR PIE HOLE!
To all vagina’s out there…… We may tell ourselves that the ‘right man’ won’t be scared off by our insecurities but that’s really like dodging the responsibility of our own contribution and saying that he must prove himself and that we don’t have to be accountable for our own negativity. What we don’t realize is that if we’re not going to believe differently anyway their efforts to show they care. It is like throwing their energy to love us into an abyss.
Currently, my vagina and I aren’t on speaking terms. She is still pissed at me, that I didn’t allow Jake to come over the other night to bar stool bang me, while I wrote in my blog. I know her silent treatment won’t be for long. Invariably, she will screech like a banshee the next time a gent forgets to call when he says he will or cancels a date with me.
If I could only find a cock to bribe her into silence with. Hmmm…….
P.s. I set this to post automatically via the WordPress timer. If by chance something happened to me today during my procedure, I don’t mean to freak any of you out. I am not blogging from the grave. Though that would make a better story wouldn’t it? ~ Kat