Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Masochism Revisited

I do realize that there will be some unsuspecting S&M folks somehow being forwarded to this page. Unfortunately, this site is not what they'll be looking for.

On the way to work today (and yes, I'm doing this during office hours), I started thinking about a girl whom I sort of dated/sort of hooked-up with last summer. She was a young thing, about 25. Amazing skin. But alas, it was just a "hook up" and nothing more. But I became somewhat obsessed with why it didn't work out.

Today, I think I figured it out. I'm attracted to women who absolutely hate what I do and the way I live. Yet I couldn't get it out of my head that there was something about what I did to discourage this girl away from me.

Almost without exception, I've gone out with women who are initially fascinated by what I do for a living, only to decide at a later date that I should quit whatever I am doing completely or else they will leave me. There was one girl who was completely enraptured with whatever I did, but that's another story. Or maybe not. As a masochist, I don't want someone who loves and adores me. I want someone who hates me. Or will come to hate me.

This girl (from last summer) told me everything from the get-go. She hated artists, actors, etc. She wanted a stable living, but also the ability to do some adventurous stuff, like start a business, work for a clothing designer, etc. Actors usually work in restaurants, bars, or whatever other work they can get their hands on. We were doomed from the start.

What's worse is I'm a multi-hyphened artist. I'm also a writer, which is not stable either. Essentially, this girl wanted a doer, not a dreamer.

Regardless of the idea that I've always considered myself a doer, she already wrote me off as a dreamer. I can't blame someone for doing this. I'd probably do it myself, if I was in her position. Or mine, for that matter.

I've been single/unattached for about 18 months now. This is one of the longest stretches I've had since moving to Hollywood. And I've decided it's going to get even longer. . . until I can figure out how I can start being attracted to someone who doesn't hate me, or eventually come to hate me.

4 comments:

K. Yin said...

Wow, I want to talk about this over a beer or something. Veeeery interesting. I have several questions:

1) If you were a successful actor or writer, would you get the same reaction (from the summer girl, for example)?

2) Do YOU respect your own profession(s)?

3) If you lowered your standards (and went out with less ambitious, less independent women), would they tend to be less judgmental of your career ambitions?

4) As a boyfriend, what do you usually bring to the table? Like, what role do you play in your girlfriends' lives? Are you a teacher? a buddy? a pretty thing they can cling onto at parties?

Hey, I just gave you enough fodder for a dozen more blog entries. ; )

LT Goto said...

this'll be at least a two beerer. we can go on for days talking about this.

1) I know that any of these women would fawn over me if I were BOTH successful and famous. Successful might be enough tho. Famous? That's only good for a phone #.

2) Good question. Let me get back to you on that.

3) How do you know my standards aren't already low? Oh, that's right, you do know my tastes. By the way, this summer girl had been divorced -- at 25!

4) I'm a great listener. Very supportive of any endeavors. (Or no endeavors. I don't think everyone should have high falutin' goals.) And I think I'm pretty good, in various ways. I can play teacher or student. Wait, did you mean role-playing or, uh, role-playing? ;)

Okay, maybe I should spread these among several entries. I'll have to do more driving-thinking on my way to work.

LT Goto said...

heh-heh...like i didn't think you'd comment on this one, d?

by the way, is it "Mr. Spock," or just "Spock"?

the 25-y.o. wasn't someone i pursued, nor did she pursue me. i was with some friends, she was with some friends. then we spent an entire day together getting to know each other. i thought that would be it, but she decided to invite me over. do girls do that with guys they don't really like? if so, i'm really confused.

i had an email conversation with someone today about why i tend to have relationships with certain women. usually, it's not about pursuing or being pursued by. it's purely connecting. i connect with her, she connects with me. that's it. but it can be on different levels: physical, mental, intellectual, spiritual, um, animal?

these things, i think, are great starting points. but then our minds kick in and we start asking ourselves, "is this really what i want?"

there's that saying about how men want a woman to never change and she always does. while women want a man to change and he never does.

i guess we want our barbie dolls and you want your frog that turns into a prince.

LT Goto said...

semantics, eh? well, i think i choose my words pretty well. if you want to doubt my words, that's your choice. but i do happen to think i live my daily life closer to the truth than you ever could...

when i say "connect," i truly mean that, almost like there's an invisible link between me and her. but again, my connections are all over the map.

a couple months ago, i met a girl from korea. we hang out sometimes. i take her to parties and bbqs. i even bought her a pair of tickets to see kelly clarkson, one of her favorites. but i had no desire to attend the concert with her. i like her in my life. but we connect on some level that may never lead somewhere else.

i have another girl friend who is great to party with. she's bubbly, good energy, and can party all night. she loves to have fun. and, occasionally, we have some really great, deep conversations. recently, we talked about reincarnation and what lessons we might learn in each lifetime.

but i am someone who doesn't always think a relationship has to go somewhere else.

some people see the world through amway-colored glasses, and every person they meet just might be a potential downlink in their chain. those people scare the living crap out of me.