My entire adult life it’s been the same. I meet a woman somewhere. We stay together for a while. But she’ll never tell me that she cares enough to try to build something. And then, at some point, it’s
“I want to go to Costa Rica for a year or two”
“I want to go around the world for a while”
“I want a career as a rock and roll roadie”
and I’m never really invited, or if I am, it’s only peripherally, like I have to actually ask
“Will we be a couple in Costa Rica, or are we just ‘going together’ but when we get there we’re both on the open market?”
“If I stay here, can I expect you to come back to me someday? Do we have something to build on? Do I have something to look forward to?”
and then, her answer is always
“No, I’m sorry. I just don’t know. I can’t promise anything. We’ll see what happens. I can’t promise I won’t leave you. I can’t promise I won’t meet somebody else. But I’d like for you to wait for me.”
And so it’s up to me to contemplate sitting on my ass for month(s) or year(s) while she goes off and does her thing and I do what… wait? For… the nothing specific that’s been promised?
Then, we fight. And as a result, we break up.
And then, somehow, she always sees it as my fault. Every woman I’ve ever broken up with has seen it as my fault for not hanging around for month(s) or year(s) waiting for her even though she won’t make the same promise in return to me.
I hate women. Selfish, selfish people, women. I don’t exist. I don’t get a life. Only they get a life. And if I decide that I want a life, even though I made all the promises to them and it was them who left and them who would never make any promises about returning to me, I’m always the selfish bastard who can’t “let them be themselves” or “let them spread their wings” or “let them be who they are” and they use me as an example of the bad, bad, badness of men for years to come in conversations.
Why are women the only ones who get to have lives and do what they want? And why are men the ones who have to make all the sacrifices?