2681 Valuing

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Cathy Guisewite, "Cathy", mother to daughter:
"Of course I know how to push your buttons.
After all, I sewed them on!"

------------------------------------

I've given up on today. I got up early to get some desk work done before I get sued, and poor Suzie is desperate for an oil change, which I promised her this afternoon. But I got four phone calls about pressing social matters, one of which requires that I clean out the car, and two of which required internet research, and here it is almost 4 pm and I've got none of the desk stuff or the oil change done.

I'm going out for dinner this evening (Angie, Nat, Roman and that group), so I have to start getting dressed at 5. Not enough time for the oil change, and I don't want to start the desk stuff now, because it's not something I can drop once started. I have to finish it all in one clip.

I give up.

----------------------------

A few people have commented that I tend to fall for wounded puppies. That the men I fall in love with are nice guys, but guys with problems, guys who seem to have been beaten up (or beaten down) by life. Or something. Kicked around.

Maybe. But I think most guys are a bit like that. They're almost all carrying scars of one kind of another. Old hurts that color everything. Some will point out that women do too, but women are different in how they handle things.

Men tuck hurts away in compartments and close the lids, and don't think about them. They carry them around in exactly the same condition as when they received them. Men's minds work like a row of lockers, but the odor of what's in the lockers spills out into the hall, and they wonder, "What's that smell?" It's very difficult to get a man to open the locker and look.

Women integrate things. They continue to think about them, turn them around and look at them, so that the hurts get worn down. Women's minds are more like walk-in closets. Women are more likely to eventually clean out the closet, but only after she's tried on the contents a few dozen times.

Anyway, that's not where I was headed with this. Back on track -

I always thought that maybe I choose wounded puppies because I need to be needed. I need to nurture.

I came across something a few days ago (and I'll never find it again, one of those link to a link to a link things) that is intriguing. The writer theorized that if a woman has been severely devalued at some point in her life, and if she has overcome that devaluing and now values herself, she will seek out men who have great potential, but who do not value themselves - who do not realize their own potential, and have accepted devaluation.

Interesting.

I know other women who are attracted to confident successful men, and I shiver. I occasionally meet successful confident men, and I am not attracted to them. I knew that about me, but never thought about why. If I thought about it at all, it was like "He doesn't need me."

I am the woman that writer described. I have overcome severe devaluation. I know my worth now.

The man I am most attracted to is not the most handsome, or the most confident, or most successful. I am attracted to a wounded puppy with great potential. A man of high intelligence, of thoughtful and sensitive mien, who has been undeservedly kicked around by life, and who has not achieved his potential.

Perhaps I want to be the one who values him, who protects and encourages him. To value him more than he values himself. Jay was happy with me, and I was happy with him, because I thought he was wonderful, and he knew that if *I* thought he was wonderful, there must be something wonderful about him. We both got what we needed.

Maybe I shouldn't have said this. Maybe now when you see me with a man, you'll think, "Gee, he must be a loser." Well, I do have some standards. Any man I admire will be intelligent, sensitive, thoughtful, and a mind-blowing lover. So there.

-------------------------

We're getting into the time of year when my front yard fills with turkeys, eating the dried wild cherries that fall on the driveway. I've mentioned how sometimes they won't let me walk or drive down. I found this short video clip: http://tv.gawker.com/5412799/roving-gang-of-turkeys-steal-little-boys-bicycle. I couldn't figure out how to imbed it, so click through. It's both scary and funny.
.