Saturday, May 18, 2013
Hard Lessons About Men: Being Played by a Player..........
The best revenge is to act like you don't give a damn..........
Dating as a middle-aged woman is tough. It think it was easier when I was younger. I think you're cute. You think I'm cute. Let's go steady. Now, it's just so complicated. Most of the time I just don't want to be bothered.
I recently had something going on with a man who constantly called and text messaged and just couldn't get enough of me. He came in like a gang-buster, turned my life upside down, talked about how much he cared, and monopolized my time. I got caught up in all of it and then, one day, he magically disappeared from the face of the earth. He stopped coming around. He even started avoiding the places where we both used to hang together with all our mutual friends on the weekends. He stopped calling. My calls would go straight to his voice mail. That never used to happen. Those text messages from him at all hours of the day and night mysteriously came to a screeching halt. Perhaps, if I was lucky, I would get an impersonal one or two word text message from him. In response to mine. Hours after I sent it; with no apology and no mention of missing me or wanting to see me anytime soon. My gut was telling me something was up and I began to drive myself crazy trying to figure what the heck happened. Even worse, I started wondering what I did wrong or made excuses for him and imagined all kinds of ridiculous scenarios and reasons why he suddenly disappeared from my life. A word of advice: if something like this happens to you, go the extra mile to make sure the guy is still alive. It is possible, though doubtful, that he is dealing with a terrible tragedy or painful event that is actually preventing him from reaching out to you. Go check on him and if he's in the land of the living and his little world is intact; forget him and move on!
I am not talking about relationships or romance between teenagers or twenty-year old's. When I was young, I was fickle. So were the boys. One day I thought I was madly in love. The next day, I met somebody else. And moved on. Or the guy did. Without a word. We all did that in our youth. But, Jeez, I am in my fifties now. I've been married and divorced and had enough relationships since to know how it's supposed to be and how it's supposed to end. I could always spot a "player" a mile away, but the older I get, the more difficult it becomes to identify one. If they've been doing it a long time, they just keep getting better at it. At my age, sometimes I am caught off guard because I don't expect to be played by a middle-aged man with a bit of a beer-gut and "man-boobs".
I know that a man who genuinely cares for me and enjoys my company does not just disappear from my life and most certainly not without an explanation. It doesn't matter how many hours he works or how difficult his life has been lately. His sick parents or his aggravating ex-wife and selfish children will not stop him from being with me. If his time is truly limited for whatever reasons, he would not dare cut off communication for fear that will someone else will come along and steal me in his absence. If there is a good reason why he has cut off communication or no longer wishes to see me, a man who has any ounce of concern or affection for me will take the time to explain. Perhaps I did something so awful that he just can't bear to be with me ever again,. If he ever valued anything we shared together, he would not leave me hanging, hoping or wondering what happened. If I know all this, then why was I making excuses for a man who allowed his actions to show how very little he cared?
I needed to be honest with myself and face facts. I was just played by a player. He did not lose his cell phone and all of his contacts. He did not accidentally delete my phone number. The kids, the jealous ex-girlfriend or the dog didn't delete my number, either. He didn't rush off to take care of his sick mother in some bum-fuck town with poor cell phone service in a different state on the other side of the country. He's not lying in a ditch somewhere or in a hospital bed broken and bleeding. He's not sitting around thinking how nice it would be to see me or receive a phone call from me. He's not thinking that he's the one doing all the work in this relationship and maybe if he gives me the silent treatment, I will prove how much I care by reaching out to him. In fact, he's not thinking about me at all. What is he thinking about? Some other girl he's set his sights on. He's probably already with her. That's why he's no longer calling or seeing me.
Why am I telling you this? Because I am sure this has happened or it will happen to you and I don't want you to be taken by complete surprise or possibly make a fool out of yourself when you bump into him with his new lady a few weeks later. Trust me; you will run into him. When you least expect it. When we're caught off guard, we often do or say things that we ordinarily would never consider. Don't do anything. Don't say anything. You don't need closure. There is no reason for you to walk over and say hello. A brief conversation with you will not cause him to suddenly realize that you are really something special. I don't care how many times he's had his head between your legs. Even that was meaningless to him, so don't kid yourself into believing it was anything more. Don't gather your friends and belongings and insist on leaving, either. Just smile sweetly, turn your pretty head, and walk away.
That's what I plan to do. I know I am going to see him. One of these days. Somewhere. Someplace. It makes no difference how old he is; that man is a player and the same way he played me, he will play the new girl. Eventually. He actually did me a huge favor. He showed me exactly who he is and saved me from certain heartache and misery. It's better to be alone than waste one minute of my time pining over a man like that. And I never want him to think, not even for a split second, that he has hurt me. Why not? It's so simple. If I choose to wear my heart on my sleeve and he knows he's hurt me; that means I still care. If thinks I care and the new girl is smart enough to see him for who he really is and dumps his ass before he dumps her, guess who will be calling me again?
It totally baffles me that people in their fifties are still playing games with the hearts and feelings of others. Seriously? Our lives are half-over. How many chances do we think we're gonna get?