Preoccupied, Preconceived Notions & “The Perfect Man”

Have you ever been stuck? Not like when you’re driving down the road and run out of gas, but when you can’t get out of your own head or mindset long enough to reach the next goal, job, weight…whatever it is you’re going for? Me too. Several nights ago, I was reminded that there’s a time and a place to dig in your heels and remain absolute, but there’s also a time to consider a different point of view and be open to the notion that you (more specifically, me) are fallible.

I’ve been stuck for weeks, with four to five blog posts and a book in the works and my mind just keeps spinning, going from one subject to the next and back again. Somehow, though, apart from the frustrating deadlines of personal pressure, I’m still able to successfully “nail” all my professional commitments on time and in good form. So, what’s the problem… great question? 

“SHALL WE DANCE?” WHAT A THRILL IT MUST HAVE BEEN TO WIN THE NCHA “SUPERSTAKES,” IN FORTH WORTH, TEXAS A FEW WEEKS AGO, TYING WITH YOUR BROTHER TO TAKE THE TITLE, AND BOTH ABOARD PHENOMENAL EQUINE ATHLETES. I’VE BEEN PRIVILEGED TO OWN A FEW SUCH AMAZING HORSES AND LOVE KNOWING THIS PARTICULAR SPORT WILL ALWAYS CAPTURE MY HEART.

My profession is creative, stimulating, challenging, rewarding, convenient, and I love it. It’s better than winning a tennis tournament by serving an Ace on Match Point, better than betting and winning a Trifecta at the horse races, and maybe even matches marking a 229 at the Cutting Horse Super Stakes in Ft. Worth? It is truly a perfectly crafted career for me, albeit a bit late in life. I’m afforded a flexible schedule and environment to do what I enjoy, at which I am reasonably adept, and has proven pretty successful as well.  With all of that said, I’m out and about often, attend meetings, photo shoots and dozens of other activities, but I spend a substantial amount of time in my “home office” too, where I have the freedom to wear what I want, with or without makeup, and my hair tied up in a knot on my head. I know that may sound trite in today’s “current social climate,” but it’s accurate, and I’m grateful for the opportunity. Admittedly, I am still a hot mess of “ADD,” which I’ve admitted on many occasions, but is pertinent to mention again, if only to adequately convey the amount of stimulation my brain requires to achieve peak performance. So yes, not only am I able, but I need, to watch the news, have music playing, talk on the phone, let my dogs in and out throughout the day, go for walks, while simultaneously but intermittently still writing whatever it is I’m working on. That makes the blending of writing for a living, extremely compatible with working on my personal challenge of the moment and the need to unearth, really explore and examine my background, upbringing, and marriage so as to try to understand the anomaly my life became over many years?  At least that’s how it goes the majority of the time; recently not so much. I’ve been trying, for far too many weeks and way too hard, to turn out a new blog post. So far nothing has quite clicked or completely come together just yet, that is until now. Potentially, I have just been gifted a breakthrough?  I’m taking all that distraction and the multiple sources that fuel my background, to filter and redirect my writing process by gleaning steam from the real-life versions of assorted other dramas (which feel eerily reminiscent to my own) playing out on national news channels, “You Tube,” and other sources. There are a number of highly publicized trials taking place in our world right now, many of which occupy space on the screen of my “white-noise loop,” and it’s next to impossible to ignore how divided the public’s opinion of the processes are; there’s a brush of negativity that appears so blatantly harsh, judgmental, and just plain mean-spirited. A few nights ago, I was talking with a friend about one of those issues and in typical fashion (however flawed it may seem) I arrived at a conclusion before considering another viewpoint. Wow, how close-minded and wrong is that, and would continue to be, if that were the only position I ever considered? Also, in so doing I successfully managed to insinuate myself amongst the very narrow-minded group of people I had just criticized, which makes absolutely zero sense? It is difficult to admit one’s shortcomings, but it needs to be done and so there it is; I screwed up!  Having, fairly recently, been threatened with a “defamation lawsuit” myself, my sensitivity regarding the subject is particularly heightened, and noting the particular title I’ve given this blog entry, it’s safe to assume my eyes are newly reopened. I kind of feel like I was just given the key to a secret vault, which has been on lockdown. Who knows how the multiplicity of all these dramatic and contested situations will play out, but regardless of the outcome, the enlightenment that viewing the situation with an open mind provides is something I seriously doubt I’ll underestimate again?  Moving forward, I will try much harder to maintain an open mind.

My experience with powerful men, and the resulting damage that undue influence exacted at their whim is capable of creating, remains sadly real and very personal. That statement is reflective of the emotion that’s been reawakened and stirring within me over the past couple weeks while watching this one wildly bizarre, defamation trial and train-wreck unfold. As stated before, I made up my mind about which of the “subject” parties ought to be held liable for the public spectacle, being played out for the world to see, far before a conclusion might be close. With that in mind, I paused the other evening when my friend asked why I held such strong animosity for the person claiming defamation. My answer was based on a gut reaction, not a thoughtful examination of the matter at hand. So, in fairness let me give that process a go? Shouldn’t I try to understand the position, and the person’s desire to defend themselves of false charges? After all, if you have been wronged and are willing to expose your entire life, in such a public and humiliating forum to defend yourself, maybe there’s a chance the defamation claim being argued could be true? It took me a couple times to really hear and absorb the point that was being made, before considering the possibility of its validity. I guess I was seeing this case’s defendant through the lens of my personal experience, perhaps not what was actually in front of me? Since then, I’ve been taking in the trial’s progress with a new, “fresher” view, as opposed to the clouded, unyielding one I held before. As each day passes, more and more of the filth and toxic dysfunction that occupied the two actors relationship and lives is revealed. It’s truly disturbing to watch the ugly circus that they were mired in, be exposed in this way. We don’t know what the conclusion of that specific case will be, but I am legitimately trying to process each particular day’s events with an open mind.  I find myself vacillating back and forth between which party “presents” as more believable…or is just the better actor? What I’m left thinking is this… 1.)Do I think both those parties, plaintiff and defendant, are “bat-shit crazy;” absolutely!  2.)Do I believe that the defendant was a victim of domestic abuse; again absolutely. It’s likely they both were! 3.)So what’s left to decide? Did the Plaintiff lose his career and perceived value as an actor, a VERY talented one, due to the words written in one “op ed” which never even mentioned his name?” I don’t know. The plaintiff’s own testimony, litany of text messages, and various audio recordings speak to the mercurial, eccentric, addictive and narcissistic nature of his temperament, but the defendant has her own set of aberrant, needy and narcissistic behaviors too. One wonders what bawdiness will be divulged next?  The burden of proof in a Defamation case remains on the Plaintiff, and the number one defense any defendant can utilize, is the truth. That’s just fact as the law and the legal system outlines. Regardless of how long this particular trial continues, and even if the defendant, herself, comes nowhere close to representing a paradigm of purity and virtue, is that pertinent to the specific allegations made by the plaintiff in this case?  While in itself, the trial represents a melodrama of monumental proportion, is the defamation claim alleged about the defendant’s public “op ed” being proved?  Is the defendant’s claim of domestic abuse remotely possible? I sure think so, even though I guess the plaintiff could be described as a victim himself? Is that pertinent to this suit? It would seem likely that this plaintiff’s mercurial personality, multitude of addictions and narcissistic ego could have caused sufficient damage to his career all on its own. Whether or not the plaintiff is willing to acknowledge the existence of his own shortcomings is unclear at this point; his lengthy ramblings are all over the place. Maybe, he is just seeking to “play,” (quite brilliantly) another role in a very lengthy and successful career? The end of this trial and any conclusions that will be reached appear pretty unpredictable, but one take-away that I believe almost any impartial person might make after watching this spectacle evolve, is that both parties in this one case are very, very far from perfect? Perhaps the better question is does such a concept exist?

Merriam Webster defines “perfection” in a few ways. The first example is “the quality or state of being perfect,” such as freedom from fault or defect; flawlessness; maturity; and the state of being saintly. Secondly, “MW” goes on to use the phrase, “an exemplification of supreme excellence;” the definition goes on in a bit more length, but you get the gist, right? The good Lord knows how supremely short I, among millions of others, fall from that measure. Is it even fair to think, or expect that ANY human being is capable of attaining such a high standard?  It would seem the quintessential oxymoron to link the word perfect, next to the word human? Maybe, I’m wrong, but I don’t think so, and I’m still trying to operate on the whole “open mind” precept.

If you’ve read any of my previous blog posts, you’re probably well aware that my personal experience with men has been undeniably imperfect. Until recently, though, that never interfered with my recurring crushes or love of everything male. Giving up men would be like giving up Pinot Grigio, and I’m no quitter. My daughter reminds me frequently, and I willingly admit to being the product of a patriarchal family, upbringing, and marriage, but I never made the connection between that backstory and my choices in men. Kind of makes you wonder what the heck was in the water I drank as a kid, right?  Regardless, those lessons, habits and manufactured preconceptions die HARD, if ever. 

Shortly after my divorce was finalized, I found myself in a unique position.  I was newly single, a size 4, relatively attractive, being pursued by a number of “eligible” men, and utterly disinterested in a serious commitment or relationship, but was enjoying the freedom of having fun, at least that was the notion in my head. It was a pretty incredible, if flawed, perception and was also unlike anything, or anytime, I’d ever experienced before.  That I had two minor children and was still mired in some serious legal manipulations and bullshit, didn’t appear to be a deterrent to an active social life, a.k.a. guy magnet! But those two factors also helped to keep me as grounded as was possible back then!  Please don’t misunderstand me, while the attention and freedom I experienced was an attractive distraction, the (yet unrealized) reality remained that I was about to enter the war of a lifetime…mine, at least. Any misconception that the previous year, the battles endured as well as survived were over, was a mistake of gargantuan proportion. That fact aside, I still managed to stay, sort of/not really, optimistic. It was, however, an “upbeat/positive Missy” who showed up for the Birthday party of a dear friend’s two children, jointly celebrated the Saturday following Thanksgiving of 2008. The party was meant to celebrate the respective births, one month apart of a two and three-year old, but as many parties like that end up, the people doing most of the celebrating were adults. I walked outside at one point, midway through the evening to retrieve something from my car and passed a small group of people arriving late to the party. One member of the group appeared to be a tough-looking, but handsome kind of guy; he turned my way to say hello and asked if I was returning? I smiled, but being slightly taken aback, kept walking. Turns out that being flustered, somewhat shy and wildly out of dating practice appeared to be quite the “turn-on.” Hmmm, who knew? As life would have it, I ended up dating that man (Bobby) for a bit of time, albeit on a very on-again, off-again basis. The same qualities that were initially appealing, ultimately became terribly toxic, for both of us! Then too when you’ve been ignored for long enough, living in a parched, dried-up, desert-like situation, any attention is better than no attention, and so I took a sip of what was being offered and tripped myself up again! We met in late November, and by the following June, with my daughter’s High School Graduation just a couple weeks from taking place, our relationship had devolved to the point where my kids, particularly my daughter, the other members of my family, and even the very friends who introduced us, had little to no use for Bobby, and made it abundantly clear they were all fearful of the consequences of our relationship. That interpretation and rephrasing of my family and friend’s admonitions of concern, is putting it mildly, to say the least.  What I couldn’t accept or didn’t realize at the time but have since discovered, is that I turn into a pathetic wreck of a doormat when I’m involved with a man. Steve, the shrink, used to explain to me that I have a decidedly dangerous knack for attracting “red flag” kinds of men, among others as well. He assured me, however, as soon as I learned to recognize the warning signs, and get myself a new “tribe,” my life would run a whole lot smoother. I had been planning a Graduation Party in Em’s honor, following Laguna’s afternoon campus ceremony, and Bobby not only knew about it, but was furious that he wasn’t going to be included in the celebration. I tried to explain that this occasion and dinner party was about my daughter and her graduation from High School…period. It was not about me, nor was it about him, or some display that we were, or had been, dating, albeit spottily. Bobby was indignant that he be invited to Em’s party, and I was resolute in conveying that I was sorry he felt the way he did, but that my primary concern was about my daughter’s last high school experience and that she felt honored, validated and special. In her senior year, Em applied to 17 different colleges and universities, was accepted to all but one, and decided on Pepperdine. She would be leaving in August and by this time in my post-divorce process, I knew better than to “assume” what the future might hold or what our lives would look like?  Why Bobby couldn’t accept the enormity of that milestone and the impending transition was beyond me, but he adamantly refused, and I was unprepared to deal with that added level of drama and intensity. So much for the light-hearted fun and distraction of being newly single?  

It probably goes without saying that Bobby and I didn’t end well, but the “kicker” of it all occurred way more than a year later, when Bobby called one day out of the blue and asked to borrow money. That I didn’t feel guilty about responding with a polite but brief and very clear “no,” was new for me, and I sincerely felt relieved that our relationship was over, a thing of the past.  A week or so later, I received a text. It was from Bobby saying that he had called Al (yes, my ex), told him what a horrible Mother I was, and what a mess our kids were.  My level of dismay at the type of retaliation he attempted to exact was indescribable. Indeed, the “Valley” was a small place, and Bobby’s profession was the type where he met a lot of people but calling my ex-husband and “tattling” or reporting on me as though I was a naughty child was something I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around. It’s not so very different I guess, than my 6-month long ban on Instagram, which shows no sign of being reinstated; merely another form of scolding and a “time-out” imposed on an adult, when we don’t agree or comply with the hierarchy of authority?  WTF? 

I SAT ON THAT SET OF “TIME-OUT” STEPS PLENTY WHEN I WAS YOUNG, BUT I’M NO LONGER FOUR YEARS OLD.

The next relationship didn’t turn out much better; it just took me longer to recognize the eventuality. I suppose I should have been “clued in” far sooner, since we initially met at a party I was hosting, when he arrived as the date of a friend’s sister, but proceeded to ask me out. A year later (yes again, I’m a painfully slow study) I had been sincerely trying to ignore and skip over his frequently displayed insensitiveness, particularly when my treasured companion and protector, Jerrico, required being put down. Over the phone, with little to no empathy, he remarked, “you’ll get over it; it’s not like you don’t have other dogs.” Who says something like that? He did, and while I never asked him specifically, my guess is that the frame of mind which he used to dismiss Jerrico’s loss, was the same one he employed with women and in relationships. It was 4th of July a few weeks later on the occasion of my hosting another party, with him as my then “boyfriend/manfriend/fella” or significant other…whatever, he got very agitated and annoyed with me when I became upset that he was overtly “hitting on” another woman in my own home, right there in plain sight of my kids and for all our friends to witness? That type of behavior surely should have waved some ginormous red flags for me, right? It was still another month, before I had the courage to break things off, and still with trepidation? No good segue comes to mind here…but there is definitely something to the expression, “stay faithful or stay single?” There’s also something to be said about the reality that I suck at choosing men and should probably resolve to avoid the activity completely! Maybe my childhood crush on John Wayne, or my more recent adult crush on Denzel Washington in The Equalizer, or any movie at all for that matter, is going to be as close as I ever get to finding “the perfect man?” While I’d like to hold out hope that a decent (forget perfect) man may exist in today’s world, there’s still probably no chance I’d ever wind up with one. Why is that? Well, most decent men that would be age-appropriate (keep in mind my penchant for May/December romances) would most likely be either dead, or married at this point, and it’s a huge HELL NO for me to pursue the affections of a married man. I don't go there, ever! I’ve already had a cheating husband; the last thing I want… is someone else’s!

All of that said, somewhere on the East Coast is an adorable man who, in a perfect world, I probably should have met 35+ years ago. Even though we’ve known one another for quite some time, it’s nowhere close to three decades. I wonder if we had met back then if he would have felt for, or said to me what he did recently?  “He’s totally attracted to me, would love to have sex and hang out, but he simply does NOT want to be in a relationship. He is 100% committed to staying single.” Wow, honesty…how refreshing!

That said, while there is such a thing as an honest man, both my preconceived theories as well as "The Perfect Man” obviously have expiration dates? Like the Peach Greek Non-Fat Yogurt, wedge of Triple Crème Brie or the Ribeye Steak I have in my fridge, if you wait too long to take advantage of them, they get kind of greenish-grey and stinky.  Hmmm, that sounds like a reasonable analogy?

The truth is, I’m pretty darn comfortable and content with the life I have. What’s more, I may not have a perfect man, but I do have a perfect companion. There is one; one who adores me, doesn’t argue, is completely loyal, steady and absolutely unflappable. Better still, he only requires one thing…me!  Maybe all my history goes to show, it’s easier to raise a good dog, than find a good man.

IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY HEARD IT, NOW WOULD BE AN OUTSTANDING TIME TO LISTEN TO BILLY CURRINGTON’S SONG, “LIKE MY DOG.”

“Like My Dog” 

He never tells me that he’s sick of this house

He never says, “why don’t you get off that couch?”

He don’t cost me nothin’ when he wants to go out

I want you to love me like my dog

He never says I need a new attitude

Him and my sister ain’t always in a feud

When I leave the seat up, he don’t think that’s rude

I want you to love me like my dog does, baby

When I come home want you to just go crazy

He never looks at me like he might hate me

I want you to love me like my dog

He never acts like he don’t care for my friends

He never asks me, “where ‘n the hell have you been?”

He don’t play dead when I want to pet him

I want you to love me like my dog does, honey

He never says, “I wish you made more money”

He always thinks that pull my finger’s funny

I want you to love me like my dog

He don’t get mad at me and throw a major fit

When I say his sister is a bitch

I want you to love me like my dog does, baby

When I come home, want you to just go crazy

He never looks at me like he might hate me

I want you to love me like my dog

I want you to love me like my dog does, baby…

Huh, who knew; there just might be a guy out there for me after all?