How You Doin’ Blondie?


That Train Is Never Late
November 14, 2007, 5:01 pm
Filed under: Electra Complex, Life, Psychoanlysis, Reflections, relationships, thoughts | Tags: , , , ,

Today he led me back to his office and when we were settled, he leaned towards me and said very somberly, “We have to talk.” He told me that he’s come to the realization that there’s nothing he can do for me. He said professionally, medically, ethically; he knows there’s something wrong, something he should weed out and fix. But personally, when he analyzes me on a purely human to human level, he doesn’t see much point or probability in change. He told me that, quite simply, he just go to me too late. He said that I know I make unhealthy decisions, and that what throws him is that I know why I make them too. He said I really do his job for him, and he said that it’s for that reason that I had probably already drawn the conclusion he was about to make. He said I was more then welcome to continue with our sessions, but he couldn’t let me go on unless he was sure I knew it was an exercise in futility.

His seriousness was so charming, I didn’t tell him he’s just another notch on my belt.

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de • grade – verb [used with object] 1. to reduce; to decompose by stages.

Sometimes I feel like my love life is so pathetic it’s tangible. Like people can see it just as clearly as they could see a piece of lettuce in my teeth. My relationships with men are so twisted and unhealthy, I don’t ever fully confide in anyone about them, not even Dr. J. And I don’t lie because I’m afraid of what people will say about my lifestyle, I can handle being looked at as the obligatory bimbo indicative of a man’s mid-life crisis. What I can’t handle is people seeing how much of my heart I put into being objectified. On some level, I know he doesn’t really love me, I know I’m just another accessory he bought, but the part of me that wants so badly to be loved, lies to the part of me that knows that I’m not. It’s sick, it’s sad, it’s disgusting, it’s deplorable; I should know better, I deserve better, insert the self-empowering lie of your choice here. But for all those things, for all those wretched, dirty little things that define my relationships with men, the worst, the very worst thing about it all: this is the way it has to be. I am only happy with a man when he devalues me as a person.