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| Blogs > TrevBrad2 > The Reluctant Swinger |
Rejection. A sad tale.
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Rejection. A sad tale. I'd like to tell a somber tale. One of woe and longing. It is a story that can only be truly appreciated by those who have lived through the pain of putting your heart on the front lines only to have it shot down, the exporter of those most horrible of human emotions: rejection. This is how Trevbrad rejects unwanted advances. First I have to tell you that it is one of the most unpleasant things that I have ever had to do. I feel as if I am taking a part of their soul away. It's much like putting down a beloved family pet. Have you ever had to put a down? I once had to tell a cocker spaniel that its fetching was atrocious and that it was in ugly no matter what collar it wore. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do and it never stops hurting. The rejection of the romantic variety are not unlike that experience, but with (sometimes ) more understanding. For future lovers I will describe what to look for if you are on the verge of rejection. When I use my acute directional empathy and find that something is amiss, you will note a change in my behaviour. I will become more awkwardly affectionate and often ask "are we okay?" At which you would shrug and make your way "out" for a while. This is Pre-emptive consolation. Of course I'm going to reject you, but I would do it as humanely as possible if I can. This may go on longer than necessary, for I am a sensitive man and have trouble pulling the trigger so to speak. Next I will go through manic texting and re-dialling on your phone as we see less and less of each other. Most of the time you wouldn't answer, it was only the one time hat I called not to drop the ax, but to ask how you were and if everything is alright. Then just as I was about to do he deed, you would get busy and have to go. One of the most important stages of rejection is when I have my friends call me to say that they've seen you out with some other guy. This is one of the trickier elements, as it distances me from my friends and loved ones when I call them all liars. It's not pretty but someone has to do it. My insistent texting would continue and much to my own self-imposed grief, prolonging the inevitable in the forms of small talk like "who is he? Why? I can change!" But by this time you would begin to suspect that something was amiss, that trepidation of the impending end edging into your psyche. Finally, I would end it by allowing you to move in with that guy who I'm pretty sure is fucking around on you. This is the hardest part; to say goodbye. Although it was my decision for whatever reason, the final words come out quivered and nervous, but the sentiment and memory of whatever we had could be heard in my final farewell: "please don't leave me! I'll do anything you want! Please, I don't want to be alone! Oh god, why is this happening? What did I do wrong? Don't go!..." Again, it's one of the hardest things to do and it would take a lot for me to recover. So I would spend the next few weeks regaining my independance, my bachelorhood if you will. I would celebrate this time by<b> locking </font></b>myself in my basement drinking cheap beer in my underwear and eating only instant noodles. Later, we would run into each other at a grocery store, where you would note at how tired I look, and I would assure you that it's because of all the single fun Ive been having. And that is how it goes. This is a complicated formula that has taken years to map out, but it works every time. My only books were women's looks and not but folly they taught me. |
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So long honey babe Where I'm bound, I can't tell Goodbye's to good a word babe So I just say fare thee well I ain't sayin you treated me unkind You coulda done better but I don't mind You just kind of wasted my precious time Don't think twice, it's alright --Bob Dylan, "Don't Think Twice", 1962, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan My only books were women's looks and not but folly they taught me.
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