Years ago I had this therapist who loved a certain gas station analogy. It went something like this: You keep going to this one gas station and they never have any gas. So why do you persist, trying to get gas out of an empty pump, when just across the street you could fill up your whole tank?
I thought of this after I made the mistake of calling a guy I used to date who consistently stomped on my heart. In other words, he had no gas for me, and yet, I kept trying to filler up. “How are things going?” I asked, after a hiatus of eight months.
It was then that he revealed that he had finally met his “princess.” A woman who stole his heart like no other.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Single,” I told him.
It was then that he decided to offer some unsolicited advice, the gist of which was that I was to blame for the fact that he could never commit to me.
“Believe me,” he said, “if you could just wait and let a man open up at his own pace, you would be surprised by how quickly the wall comes down and how the floodgates open.”
This, from the same guy who when we were supposedly dating, could not commit to even a movie on a Saturday night, yet who would spend entire weekends with his “best friend,” a single woman over ten years his junior.
Needless to say, I got off the phone feeling pretty terrible.
But after a sleepless night, it dawned on me that men have two modes: Either they are ready for a relationship or they aren’t. And if they aren’t, nothing is going to change their mind.
So the minute it’s clear that the man I am with acts like any expectation of intimacy is akin to asking him to donate his heart (while he is still alive) for the greater good, me thinks it behooves me to move on. Because nothing good ever comes of that.
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