A lover who does not care

Posted by mouthyb | Posted in , | Posted on 10:26 PM

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I run into a lot of guys who are baffled about relationships. They will often turn to me, after a few beers and say, "What is it women want, any way?"

Sadly, I cannot speak as the voice of all women. When I manage that, there's going to be a very loud day or two as I list what's wrong with society.

Today, on my two mile, sleep-deprived stumble to work, I thought about that question. What is there to say, from my small, limited point of view, about relationships between men and women? Or, rather, what is there to say which is constructive?

I thought about my lover, got distracted by the visual of his hair curling across my scarlet pillowcases and the shy smile he only gives me every once in a great while, when he wakes to me watching him sleep, shook myself, and got back to the general question.

I can only answer it for myself: I want to be listened to and get the chance to prove myself right and capable. Also, I want a lover who knows what to care about, and when not to care.

Me, I want to be important. I want to be cared for (though I am rather hard-pressed to allow someone to take care of me; I tend to feel I should take care of the other person), but there is a lot about me I do not want my lover to care about.

One of the charms of my lover is that he does not care about many things. He does not care that I have scars and stretch marks. He does not care that my right breast is larger than my left, or that I am terse to the point of acidity when I'm busy. He does not care that I'm lactose intolerant, but sadly love the cheese.

He does not care that I have been previously married, or that I sometimes talk in my sleep, or that he's entering a family and not making one. He doesn't care that my tubes are tied, that my hair tends to resemble a haystack assembled in a wind tunnel with Krazy Glue and that my clothes match typically by accident. He does not care that I steal his food on occasion, and will feed me when I've forgotten to eat for a day (and scold me, mercilessly; I managed to give myself a mild case of hypothermia last winter when I forgot a coat and to eat all day, and he swore for a week over it).

He does not care that I am an inch taller than he, and that my idea of fun is changing focus in my work habits (though he teases me about needing the help of a committee to get me to go out and do something fun).

He does not care that I am overly focused, I have a big mouth and sometimes snort when I laugh. And because he does not care about these things, he frees me from my own perfectionism. In my opinion, that is a component in what a woman might want.

But you're still going to have to talk to each woman and get her opinion.

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