LOL, I hate that update.
Ok so, right, I woke up from the fairy tale of my last post and what I know, now, is that’s not me.
The relationship thing…yea, nah, I’m good.
Let me explain:
Relationships, to me, feel…eh…feel suffocating.
Like what I imagine drowning, or being buried alive, or being trapped to be like.
I think…I think I am a commitment phobe.
“Commitment phobia, according to http://www.phobias-help.com, is the fear and avoidance of having to commit to anything, relationships in particular. Usually the sufferer will be overly critical of the other partner in the relationship. They will set out to annoy or hurt the other person, thus sabotaging the relationship even if its thought to be going well.” <–Hmm…interesting.
“Sometimes the commitment phobic will reject others from the word go, thus not allowing a potential relationship to develop and keeping themselves at a safe distance. Other people with commitment phobia can be flirtatious and affectionate and appear to want a relationship until the fear wins out and the other person is pushed away, broken hearted.” <–Again, interesting…keep this in the forefront of your mind.
In my attempt to be more thorough, I found this little tidbit about commitment phobia, which should actually be one word, as coined by Steven Carter and Julia Sokol in 1987.
They stated the following:
“When they are driven to the extreme in this conflict between two emotions, it is the commitment phobic’s fears that win out. Commitment phobics want freedom from responsibilities above everything else… Commitment phobics want to achieve results without performing their obligations.”
Now let me first state that these blurbs are not WHO approved, nor are they endorsed by any state Board of Psychology or the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology. These were used because Wikipedia didn’t really have anything comprehensive. So, in other words, this could all very well be crap.
*Kanyeshrug* I had to use what I could find.
::whispers:: There will also be Dr. Phil tips*…but that’s later.
I don’t really have an answer to what the “experts” say. Color me speechless. Even in response to the definitions themselves. I mean, yea, I have done all of that.
ALL. OF. IT.
Avoidance is my preferred method. Or as I like to call it “Dropping off the face of the planet.”
I know, I know it’s terrible, but what can I say.
Now you may be a little confused. Possibly thinking…”Wait a second, WTF did this come from?”
Glad you asked.
I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a situation. (SMH, I can’t believe I’m about to tell on myself…I know better than to do
Ok, so about the 2nd-ish (IDK, my days run together so bad) week in October we went to Bangalore. It’s kind of like the Philadelphia of India, except worse traffic and even worse drivers. <–Ha!
We were there to do company visits, experience some of the unique cultural aspects of the city, and to try to relax a bit. Check, check and check.
So we, there were 6 of us, that we wanted to stay in the city one day longer so we could go out, maybe to a club/lounge, and have a good time. So after asking around we were told about a place called UB City, which was 10 seconds away from our hotel.
We were told that this place, UB City, had a club and was surrounded by a bunch of great restaurants to choose from. NO SPICY TASTY*! You have no idea how excited we were about this. Hype doesn’t even begin to explain it.
So we all (5 of us decided to go) get gussied up and go to UB.
The place was real cute. It was on the roof of an upscale mall (Louis V, Coach, Fendi, so on and so forth). Each little restaurant represented some distinct geographically unique culinary angle. There was an American style sports bar, 2 French style cafes, a traditional Indian spot, a Mediterranean place, a Chinese restaurant and a Japanese-fusion restaurant. Bottom line: OM NOM NOM!
We went to each one and checked out the menu offerings and decided to placed a reservation with the Mediterranean place, then went to check out the Japanese place that overlooked the whole upper deck layout.
OMG. There was this giant stone sculpture hanging from the ceiling as soon as you walk into the Japanese restaurant, reminiscent of the carvings in Thai or Sri Lankan temples. It was beautiful.
We walked over to a group of lounge chairs and sat down, one of the guys, we’ll call him Guy, went to check the prices at the bar because, after the week we had, we need it! <–Work load is bananas.
Guy comes back and says the prices are pretty reasonable, and then passes a little extra information onto me, “Hey, uh, there are some black guys at the bar.”
“Err…thanks?” <–Random, but sweet– all at the sometime.
Then I asked, “Are they Black or are the African? Because there’s a difference.”
The difference is all in the air of confidence. African men tend to also be much more forward than Black men, but that’s just in my experience.
LOL. He was shocked, “Err, um, I guess African.”
“Oh, ok. Thanks.” I went on about my life, because the forwardness of some African men is a MAJOR turnoff– so I’m good.
The assistant manager came over and told us that the area we’re sitting in was reserved for another party and we had to go into the bar area. (Well would you look at that pretty little reserved sign…hmm, it clearly didn’t apply to us.) Ok, NBD. We went into the bar — it was packed. I felt like I was in the Ludacris video; I was throwing all types of bows. Sheesh!
We found an open section that was relatively close to the bar, and one of the other guys, we’ll call him Steve, asked if we wanted anything from the bar. I quickly scanned the bar, to see if they had what I wanted (Pear Grey Goose, baby!), because most places do not usually carry it.
Apparently it was my lucky night! Hot damn!
So I left the rest of them starring at the drink menu and made my way to the bar. Of course the only open area at the bar was where the African gentlemen were sitting.
Ok, fine. Don’t make eye contact, and you should be good. Yea, no go. I couldn’t get the bartender to stop. So one of the gentlemen flagged him down for me.
I mumbled an admittedly half-hearted thank you, and proceeded to order my double Grey Goose Pear and Cranberry with a twist.
The guy who flagged the bartender for me, was now flashing a flawlessly, blinding smile at me, and I was determined to ignore him.
“Hi.”– He wasn’t getting the message.
“Hey.” I half-heartedly smiled and flicked my wrist in what could be interpreted as a dismissive wave (and probably a little rude). <–WTF? My mamma taught me better than that. SMH.
“What is your name?”
“What!?”– The music was so loud and I reeeaaaaaally wasn’t trying to have THIS conversation. I was trying to enjoy my drink. Enjoy myself. This was my first night out in literally weeks, where I didn’t have to feel guilty about the amount of reading I wasn’t doing, or the assignments I could be tweaking, or just thinking about the life that Temple has taken away from me and I was finally getting a small, minute sliver back– if only for one night. <–I’m not complaining; #Imjustsayin.
“What is your name?” He insisted, louder over the music.
::sigh:: Please…please. I’m sending all negative signals. Leave me alone.
Before I could answer, one of the girls I was with came over and asked me to grab the bartender for her.
“Uhh, hang on.”– I said to him, finger all up in his face, giving him the universal symbol for ‘one second’. <–SO. DIS.RE.SPECT.FUL.
I turn my attention back to the bar and waved the bartender down, and relayed her drink order to him. He handed me a couple beers, and I, in turn, handed them to her and she was on her way, and I was right behind her, with my drink…
Until he grabbed my hand.
Pause: You’re about to get hurt.
“UMM!?! EXCUSE ME!!!” I said as I yanked my hand away from him.
He immediately coupled his hands over heart, flashing a sheepishly dazzling smile, and said, “I apologize, but I have been trying to learn your name for the last 10 minutes and you have been avoiding the question. So again, now that I have your full attention, what is your name?”
F-L-O-O-R-E-D that spells ME.
So you knew what I was doing and you ignored the signs anyway, huh?
Because I’m a G (or really because I couldn’t think of anything to say), I made him wait, as I leisurely took a
gulp sip of my drink to gather my thoughts.
Finally, I extended my hand and introduced myself.
“Thank you. My name is HB*,” he said has he clasped both his hands around mine.
I abruptly broke the handshake and and polished off the rest of my drink…I needed it. Touching, especially with strangers, makes me a little uncomfortable. I placed my glass down on the bar and flagged the bartender and told him I wanted another. I don’t like to keep a tab, especially in a foreign country, so I’m that annoying person that pays after every single drink. Sue me!! Anyway, as I tried to pay for my first drink, HB stopped me and told the bar tender to put my drinks on his tab.
Hm. Ok. *shrug* Because really who turns down free drinks? Especially, drinks with double shots of Goose? Exactly! No one.
Now I felt a bit obligated to entertain him…at least until my friends told me it was time to go to the Mediterranean spot for dinner. Which should be any moment now.
He was with his boys…
A motley crew, they were.
There was Slick, who was actually a sweetheart! He was the second one to introduce himself, and he offered me his seat when the area at the bar got a little thick. He was real cool and extremely laid back.
The Funny Dude who, well, was funny. He was a riot. This cat, man, I don’t know where they found him, but he was a mess. He was the third one to introduce himself to me. He was mad hype. I like that guy! LOL.
And the Pretty One. He was pretty. In a tiny v-neck tee. He didn’t speak. Actually he barely made eye contact. The only time he acknowledged me was, after HB had introduced us. And even then, he acted as if I was wasting his time or something. Uhh, ill, boo to you too.
I’m not gonna lie though, I was probably looking at him some type of cross-eyed because his t-shirt was SUUUUPER tight and I coulda swore I was picking up a hint of guy liner and a “Howyoudoin?” vibe…
But I could be wrong.
After introductions, there was a nagging question that I had to ask HB.
“So, uh, what the hell are YOU doing in India?”
I mean, in hindsight, I probably could have asked that a bit more tactfully, but I was already half way through my second double Grey Goose and cranberry…well on my way down a very slippery slope. <–Pssh, I got this.
He laughed and then commented on how “charming” my, I guess, American-ness was. He told me he owns a business exporting textiles back home and had recently relocated to Bangalore from Mumbai to better develop his contacts in the area. <–A man of enterprise. Hmm, ok.
He then asked how I managed to get myself to India. I explained to he and Slick that I am in the process of obtaining my MBA and that the particular program that I am in allows me to travel…blah, blah, blah…ya da, ya da, ya da…Boring life aspirations…
They loved it!! And, admittedly, I loved talking about me. Win. Win.
Just as I started to get comfortable, Steve comes over and informs me that the group decided that they wanted to stay at the Japanese place and that I should come to the table and order dinner.
Ok. But first–Bartender!! Another please! <–That’s number 3 and, at this point, I’m getting my Fergie on! Grey Goose got me feelin’ real loose!
I made my order and asked that someone from the group retrieve me from the bar when dinner came to the table.
I return to the guys at the bar, and they start telling me the various places in the country I should see (Goa, Mumbai, Delhi, Jaipur, etc) and the activities I should do (shopping, seeing a Bollywood movie, etc.). Real touristy type stuff. I took note as best I could, but with 3 drinks in me…yea I mean, things weren’t sticking all that well.
Because they were cool I invited them to the “club” that we were going to go to after dinner and they agreed to come.
The conversations were lively and free flowing. I felt like I’d known these guys for a long time, which I’ll attribute to being the oddballs out in India.
Dinner came to the table and one of the girls, came to inform me that my dinner was waiting for me. I excused myself from the guys, but not before getting drink number 4 in my hand! <–I was murdering it that night! Crazy.
Dinner was great. I cannot tell you what I had, but it was chicken and it was spicy and I think there was some rice involved. That is about all I got for you. Ehh, what can I say, I was a little sauced!!
Anyway, the rest of the group had decided that they wanted to go and check out some of the other restaurant spaces and find another spot to drink. I, however, was good. <–Surprise, surprise.
One of the guys, who we’ll call Eric, wanted to say at the bar with me. Now IDK, if he stayed because I was there with a group of guys he didn’t know, or if he stayed just because. To this day I’m not really sure, but it’s all good.
The guys and I are drinking (that’d be drinks #4 & 5 <–WHOO! I’m ON.), chatting and busting it up. HB, keeps leaning in and giving me cute little complements (i.e.- “I want to let you know that you have beautiful eyes” and, always my personal favorite, “You have very sexy lips” <–Boy stop!!) Eric is playing the background, keeping an eye on me and scoping out lil Indian girls to chat up. Bottom line: we’re all having a good time.
It was about 11:30 and apparently that is the time all the fun in Bangalore comes to an end, but we, the Americans, didn’t know that. So as the bar announces last call, me, Eric, and the guys leave because I was under the impression that the “club” at UB was or would be still open.
Uhh, yea, no.
EVERYTHING on the rooftop was closing!!! <–OMG!! 11:30 is when people leave the house to go to the club!!
Apparently there was no club. The open air rooftop restaurant area was it. Pity, because the location was amazing and a nightclub in that locale could make a boat load of money!!! Boo, Bangalore.
So Eric and I met up with the group and we were going to try to beat it back to our hotel to get to that bar and try to keep the party going. Asked them all if they would mind if I brought my new friends along. They had no issues with it…well most of them didn’t. Eric was NOT feeling them in the least bit, so much so that when they suggested that we take a cab back, Eric hopped right in the backseat and told me to sit in the front. Again, I have idea why. Maybe it’s a man protection thing.
So we get back to the hotel and find out that the hotel bar is closed too!! Damn. Oh well, I guess the party is over.
Ehh, not quite.
I tell Guy and Eric that I’m going to walk HB out and I’ll be right back. HB and I walk out to the side walk and actually begin to walk toward some shops, just talking. Getting to know each other, or as much as one tipsy person could learn about another. Yea. Then I get a phone call and it’s Eric telling me, more so pleading, that I shouldn’t go anywhere with these guys. Yea I know. That’s why it’s just me and HB…I had no clue where the other guys were. So we turn around and begin to make our way back, because I didn’t know what kind of crazy things (like call the cops) they might do if I didn’t show up soon.
Eric called me 2 more times!!
OK! I’m coming! DAMN!!
We get back. I asked HB if he’d wait outside in the courtyard while I run inside and tell Eric and Guy that I’m fine and prove to them that I had not been taken.* They say ok, but still sat in the lobby to wait for me. Ugh, whatever…Blockers. <–Now let me say that it was not my intent to bring this strange man back to my room. That would be just stupid. However, I did want to get to know him with out the preening eyes of my colleagues over my shoulder.
Instead of saying anything I just went back outside into the entrance courtyard, to finish my conversation with HB. A conversation that was ruined because every 6 minutes Eric was calling me!!! <–And the award for ‘Blocker of the Year’ goes to…Killing me! I gotta remember to do that shit to him! LOL, because I don’t torture him enough just for shiggles.
I decided to call it a night, because I didn’t want Eric or Guy to come out and just stand there like they were someone’s dad, and because I had a train to be up for by 4am…yea its like 1-ish and I’m a lil tipsy.
I leaned in and kissed HB on the cheek and thanked him for his hospitality and for he and his boys showing me such a good time, especially after my chilly reception of them. <– My bad. He gave me his number and told me to come back to Bangalore when I got a break from school so he could show my friends and I the city. I thanked him again, and turned to walk away…
He grabbed my hand again, pulled me into him and kissed me right on the lips.
It was perfect. Not too firm, but not super soft and definitely not sloppy (oh, God, those are the worse). It ended with him gently pulling on my bottom lip with his teeth, and then giving me soft little peck. Pssh, I can’t even front, my knees went weak. <–My gangsta went strait out the window. Damn…smh.
He made his exodus and I went in to the hotel and up to my room, but not before meeting my “keepers” in the lobby. Blockers, smh.
I sent HB a ‘thank you’ text, took a shower and went to sleep for what felt like 20 minutes. Woke up 15 minutes before we were supposed to be leaving the hotel to catch the train, and Sepculoos and I was no where near packed. Shit! <–I have such a bad track record with transportation.
Finally we got our lives together and make it outside to our waiting cab and push off to the train station…where we had to wait about an hour and a half for the train, and then almost missed it while standing on the platform!!! In our defense, we were under the assumption that the train was one of those super long ones we’d been seeing all morning. Yea it wasn’t and 6 of us had to run about a quarter mile up the platform with our bags to catch the train that was pulling away. WTH?!?! How do things like this happen, and why to us all the time!?!
We make it back to Chennai thankfully with no additional shenanigans around 7am and back to our apartment about 9:30. I went strait to sleep!!
Over the next few weeks, about a month and a half, HB and I exchanged texts and phone calls, just in the spirit of getting to know each other better. He was/is a really nice guy, in many ways. We’re just not in the same places.
A few weeks ago he flew down to Chennai to hang out with me, so I could show him around my “hood.” We had fun criss-crossing back and forth over the city trying to figure out where to each lunch and places to just hang out. At the same time, as I began to get more comfortable with him, I started to want him to leave, and he’d only been in town for about 15 hours or so. Who says that?
I can’t lie, I was really happy about him visiting. I mean I do enjoy his company. While we were watching the news coverage about President Obama being in India, and I fell asleep (I was sick of the America bashing…there’s only but so much one can take), and when I half woke up (and did the silent freaked out because I didn’t recognize my surroundings and I thought I was paralyzed) he had his arms wrapped around me, asleep too. I LOVED IT!! But at the same time I wanted it to end, more so. IDK how to describe the feelings, other than saying they’re polar opposites. There’s a genuine appreciation for the moment as well as sheer “end of the world” panic. One thing that my mind kept screaming was, “OMG! WHEN IS THIS GOING TO BE OVER!?!” <–That is so messed up.
So when we left to go out around town in the evening, on our way to meet up with The Voice and TB, I was extremely quite. I was trying to craft my “escape” plan. I was purposefully trying to figure out a way to drive him away or not make him want to deal with me. So it started with the silence and answering questions with either yes or no or limiting my answers to less than 10 words. Now at dinner it was a different story. He was perfect, not saying that he did anything wrong prior to that. He was engaging, cool and confident– the same dude I’d met weeks ago. I was the one that had changed, or who had really began to show their true colors.
When I dropped him off at the airport I was, again, quiet the whole way. He asked me about it, but I still hadn’t crafted my exit, so I told him that I was just tired, but I don’t think he believed me…I probably didn’t say it in a believably way on purpose, as a way to send a message. <–A mess.
As soon as I was in the car by myself…I breathed the biggest sigh of relief EVER! I was so happy to be by myself. To not have to be cuffed, to not have to portray the image of being in a relationship. I was finally me again, and it was great. And at no point did I even consider looking back at the Chennai International Airport. <–I’m. Wow. No words. I just reread that, and it’s so raw, honest, and truly how I feel, but it’s so heartless and cold at the same time.
Now, I realize that I probably have the relationship maturity of a 13 year old boy, because girls are USUALLY more mature–I can’t denying that. However, Travel Buddy believes that if I keep working at it, I’ll be the equivalent of a college student by the time I’m 30! <–She’s clearly a glass half full kind of person.
I mean really, you break-up with someone once, randomly (allegedly it was random, pssh but it wasn’t…I mean I knew I was gonna do it), via text and refuse to give any reason as to why you want to break up, then you get labeled as a bad person forever!
…hmm…yea…I know. That’s really messed up, but I didn’t want to get caught by the feelings and questions. You know the ones, “I don’t understand where this is coming from.” or, or “Why are you doing this?”
I can’t. Emotions. Ick!
TB also said that I reminded her of herself back in her heyday. Her sage advice, which, now that I think about it, was really a warning, basically stated that my shit is going to catch up with me, and when it does, it’s gonna be bad. Real bad. Like real, REAL bad.
In her own words:
“When I fell, I didn’t know how far I’d fallen, until I tried to climb up.
Duly noted. <–Note to self: Get a ladder or learn how to rock climb.
As she was telling me this, she there was this wry grin that painted the corners of her mouth. She actually snickered and then, while shaking her head, hit me with a, “Whooooo, you just don’t know! You. Just. Don’t. Know. You’re meat sauce.”
A defiantly arrogant shrug and “I’lln’t care,” is all I could muster. <–Ha, famous last words. SMH.
TB continued her advice giving session by telling me the way I am treating people is far beyond unacceptable and is extremely childish and I ought to treat people the way that I would want to be treated. <–Oh you just gon’ through the Bible at me like that, huh?!
I’m sorry, but my little sociopath within is preventing me from really being empathetic. I mean really, like really, if you met someone and they said to you, “In 3 months this, this thing we have, will be over,” would you really stick the hell around?!?
Uuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…NO! *Michael Kyle voice*
I know that there is some psychology theory or school of thought that would back me up and support me when I say that this is me. It is an inherent part of who I am, and I really can’t help it. <–I think it has something to do with the Personality theories or the Development theories.
Yea, yea, yea the behavioral people will say that with some operant or classical conditioning or negative reinforcement, I might just abandon my destructive ways.
Ehh…don’t count on it.
Carter and Sokol, 1987, had this to add:
“The irony of the commitment phobia is that the subjects crave for what they fear most: love and connection. The more they wish to meet and love the person, the more confused, diffident and fearful they become of successfully executing their meeting plans. They get trapped in a web of confusion and indecision, which in turn, generates a self-destructive pattern of seduction and rejection.”
Shut up, Carter and Sokol.
Seriously, though, I really don’t set out to intentionally hurt people or do this. I mean who really does that? Emotional hurt is something that is serious and can be extremely difficult for people to get over. It’s been brought to my attention, that as hard as it is for women to get over these kinds of things, it’s like 10 times harder for men to get over it. Regardless of what they would have you to believe.
TB, again, all up in my life (lol j/k), cautioned me to not hurt HB’s feelings. She said that it’s people like me that will mess someone up and they’ll take it out on the next person they meet, which is usually a woman who actually wants to go forward and build something; which is her…now.
Ok, ok…ok, I won’t hurt his feelings. I will be gentle. But when and how will I do this? Clearly I can’t do what I’d normally do. I mean I’m trying to push him away through reducing the amount of time I talk to him, the frequency, or restricting the convos to just texts or five minutes. Building my barriers, as Carter and Sokol would say, but I know it isn’t right.
I mean there are clear issues with me allowing this, this, “relationship” to continue.<–Ooo, using the “R” word makes my head hurt.
1. Hi, I live in the United States of ‘Merica and, well, he doesn’t.
Granted, India is great to visit. I mean, yea it’s real cute. Even for a job, if the pay was right, I’d deal with it. But for anything else…nah, I can’t make that sacrifice
2. We are in different stages of life. He’s looking to build a foundation to start a life with someone, and I’m just not. I’m too young to think about being someone’s wife or someone’s mom. WTF!?! NO! HELL NO!! Just the thought pisses me off. I can’t. <–No diss to those who have/are doing it. I just know it is not for me right now…maybe not ever, but we’ll see.
I think these two are more than sufficient reasons to chalk this thing before “someone” gets caught up. And that someone sure as hell isn’t me. Trust me…it’s already starting to happen.
There are some, probably the ubiquitously omniscient “They”, who would say that I’m not really a commitment phobe, but actually just grossly immature and scared and these excuses (or the lack there of) are clear indications of those things. They’d say I’m scared to put myself out there, and even more terrified to be hurt. Thinking that a person, such as myself, who thinks so highly of themselves, couldn’t possibly deal with the idea that other’s do not see them as the awesomely amazing individual they portray themselves to be. To have to deal with rejection as a person with a staunchly Machiavellian-esque mindset could be down right devastating, in Their opinion.
Well, you know what?!
I sure am glad I didn’t ask Them anything!
…but I would like to know what They’d suggest I do.
Speak your mind…
*Note: 1.) I lied about the Dr. Phil tips…he’s a hack. And a Bama! Yea I said it! AND WHAT!?!?
2.) Spicy tasty is a running joke we have about the food and what it did (sometimes still does) to us. The food sometimes is really spicy, and it is actually really good, but the first month here was rough for us in terms of our, uh, bathroom usage. Just to let you know, what goes in spicy…yea…comes out the saaaame way. <–Ha! #TMI
2.) For the record, no, HB is not really his name, but you guys know that without explicit written permission, I cannot release the real names of any of the characters in my life. I’m sorry. My hands are tied.
3.) I made up the rule that if anyone gets taken, then they stay took! Don’t run off from the group. You know better than that.