Dates In Paint: “A Borderline Bad Idea”
June 20, 2012 § 2 Comments
When I was a kid, I wanted to be an artist. I would just draw and doodle constantly in class, sketching out wars, battles, bad guys, good guys, guns, monsters, and more. So naturally, I thought that a future in art could be something for me.
Except that I never got any better at it. It turns out that I was just bored and though my imagination could run wild, my hand and my brain have almost no relationship. I think my hand left my brain for my penis years ago.
But the imagination and creative side of myself still exists and wants to co-exist with art in some way. Despite my total lack of skills with art at this present moment, I will go forth in my quest to use Paint.net to give visualizations of some of my experiences with women. Its something that I think is worth a shot, but I warn you: This won’t be pretty.
And by that I mean both the art and my life.
That Crazy Girl
One of my high schools very few claims to fame is that parts of the movie Mad Love starring Drew Barrymore and Chris O’Donnell was filmed there. My school might have like 3 or 4 claims to fame, which is at least more than Chris O’Donnell has.
The reason I bring up that movie though is because it illustrates a romantic point that has always been very interesting to me: loving that crazy person. There’s just something so damn interesting about love between one or two people that could be classified as mentally insane. That they’re willing to be crazy together or that they’ve found the one person that accepts them. Or maybe that one person is willing to take advantage of another person that’s mentally unstable? I don’t know. But between movies like True Romance, Harold and Maude, Natural Born Killing and hundreds more, I know that I’m not alone in this fascination.
Most of us are fascinated by the idea of “Mad Love” and maybe because most of us feel crazy at times or maybe because we all want to fix someone, but I definitely know that the fascination exists. I was presented with such a case of mad love a couple of years ago and it taught me a lot about why that fascination is really f—ing stupid.
Here name was ShmeeShma (no, I’m not going to use her real name) and we worked together. I work with a lot of people though, so it’s not like I had a lot of interactions with ShmeeShma but I also couldn’t help but notice her. She dressed sexy, was sexy, and very flirtatious.
How sexy was she? Well, I’ll let you be the judge:
Yuuuupp… Now you know why I couldn’t help but notice ShmeeShma every time I saw her at work, except picture her in a sexy, high-cut blue dress.
We sparked up conversations and those conversations led to flirtations and flirtatious emails which led phone numbers and texting and plans to hang out. This was all very weird to me because despite my idealistic view of the world and the women that I end up liking, I never wind up with a girl that is “my type.” I tend to shoot so far out of my league that I wind up with a crushed ego each and every time. I’m a backup junior college player that believes he should be playing in the pros.
ShmeeShma was someone that physically fits my type in many ways, and she was also very nice and complimentary and made me feel good about myself because of that. It was like I had escaped the matrix, re-written the code for my life, and then jumped back into my matrix body without any memories of my time after having taken the red pill.
I was just like “Derrrr, hi pwitty gurl! We shood hang out!”
And she concurred.
I was stoked that this was all happening to me. That a girl that was actually my type and one that I considered to be out my league was actually showing interest in yours truly. Confidence never my strong suit, I was definitely thinking that things were looking up for old Ken-Dog.
ShmeeShma and I were talking all the time and by talking I mean texting, which of course is the new form of talking in the modern era. The good part about texting is that you can send a text whenever and it’s not inconvenient for you or the other party, even if it’s at an inconvenient time. A phone call is a commitment that has many inconvenient times, but a text can be sent whenever. The bad part about a text is that a text can be sent whenever.
She would send me a text and then I would send it right back. She’d reply right back and I would answer. It was like this all. day. long. If it got to a point where I got annoyed and didn’t reply back right away, she would send me a question. That’s the trick right? Send a question and then they must reply! Well, it worked on me ’cause I was like “Derrr!!!” and it was constant text messaging. It was like WAR GAMES except that we were both the computer and nobody was Matthew Broderick.
And that’s basically how it went. I got pussy-whipped by a girl who wouldn’t allow me to whip her pussy. I got friend-zoned immediately but when I reverted and said things like “Hell no, I don’t want to be in this friend zone. I’ve played the fool before but not this time!” she would reply with things like how she actually did like me, but that her last boyfriend hurt her so much that she didn’t want to be in any relationship.
Or she’d sext me. Or she’d send me risque pictures.
Yeah, so every time that I tried to exit the relationship because I didn’t want to be friends with her (as much as I liked hanging out with and talking to her, I wasn’t going to torture myself ever again with this kind of relationship if the feelings weren’t mutual) she would do something to pull me back in.
It’s not like I’m playing a total victim here. We were using each other for different purposes. She wanted attention to an extent like I had never seen. I also wanted attention but also wanted to play Bedroom Bingo with a girl that I saw as a perfect 9. The problem really arose with the fact that she is batshit crazy. I should have noted the signs.
I thought I had learned to note signs and get out while you can, but I was blinded by her booty.
There was the typical: She had a very poor self-image and thought she was very ugly, despite how not-ugly she was. She was not really abused as a child, but as a teenager found herself in a position where guys would have sex with her and then not talk to her again, so she thought that’s all she was good for. She was self-abusive. She had a terrible relationship with her parents, who she described as “hating her.” Probably the worst sign though and the one that I’ll never forget was when she told me this about her “sexual fantasies”:
ShmeeShma wanted really elegant daggers to be rubbed across her body, just breaking the skin. I’m good with “kinky” but this is like some Hostel 2 shit.
I tried to do what I could to help all of these problems but it wouldn’t be until later that I would have never been of any help to her. You see, I have a lot of my own personal problems, and I can admit that. I think most people at least have some quirks about them. My low confidence and tarnished self-esteem being atop the list. But ShmeeShma went much further. She either had to have Bipolar Disorder, or more likely, Borderline Personality Disorder.
The best way to describe Borderline Personality Disorder is this:
Another way to explain it would be to list some symptoms:
- Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment. (Yep, she constantly talked about how her parents and everyone else in her life would abandon her and how I would eventually abandon her too.)
- A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships. (I later found out that I was the THIRD guy at work that she had done this exact same thing with.)
- Identity disturbance, such as a significant and persistent unstable self-image or sense of self. (Check!)
- Impulsiveness in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging. (In this case probably eating disorder and sex.)
- Recurrent suicidal behavior. (Once put in a hospital for attempted suicide.)
- Emotional instability. (One minute she was happy, the next she was angry and for no reason.)
- Inappropriate, intense anger. (More than a few times.)
ShmeeShma displayed all of this and to a level unlike anything I had ever personally encountered before. My ex-girlfriend had an abusive history throughout childhood and had terrible mood swings, but if you had to compare the two on levels of crazy, ShmeeShma would always come out looking like Gary Busey.
And I’m not judging. Far from it. I revert you back to the beginning of this post when I spoke about “Mad Love” and an inherent need to help or to have a love that allows you to be free. Hell, if I was going out with somebody that always came out looking like Gary Busy then finally I would be the sane one.
I cared a lot for ShmeeShma and wanted nothing more than to see her at least do the hokey pokey and put her left foot into NORMALSVILLE but it would never be. If she had BPD, then this is just the pattern she goes through and after finding out more history about her, she had been repeating that pattern for years with different men that also wanted the same things that I had wanted.
ShmeeShma could also be very sweet and kind and the kind of person I could just spend hours with and never have to say a word. In an alternate universe, maybe it worked out. But in this universe ShmeeShma woke up one day and didn’t feel anything for me anymore and never would again. (Another sign of BPD.) It really sucked and it was not the conclusion I was hoping for, but the ending of this relationship had been written long before the opening paragraph.
On the bright side, I really toughened up after this. I wasn’t going to allow myself to be put into that situation again. I had to man up and stop acting like ShmeeShma or anyone else was the only fish in the sea, because that kind of desperation will not get you anywhere and I had allowed myself to be used without my own needs being satisfied. Don’t ever, EVER, be that person. Relationships are symbiotic when they’re done correctly, not parasitic. Don’t be a host for a parasite.
Here are some more lessons I learned along the way:
- Don’t ignore the signs, idiot.
- Stop thinking with only your dick, dickhead.
- Girlfriends aren’t projects that you can fix, knucklesucker.
- Did you really think you were ready for “knife play,” Guy-di Fleiss?
- Work on your own problems before you try to work on someone else, loserassfacenumbnuts
- Take a photoshop class, shitpainter