I had a conversation with a guy today about that thing some men do.
The ‘How can I present myself to this one in a way that would appeal?’ thing.
The ‘Who can I pretend to be that would get me the thing I want?’ thing.
I said: How do they think that is going to end except in disappointment for all?
Nobody wants to fall for a mirage and nobody wants to be one.
He laughed, a little awkward. (That's not what he's doing.)
It's OK, I said, I understand.
Men think it is their job to pursue, to track down, to win;
And they learn the tactics early, from brothers, their mates, the TV - three bad sources, right there;
And some women don’t hate the game;
And how else is the human race supposed to proliferate?;
And I might find it tiresome but I’ll miss it soon enough, for sure.
I told him about Simon, who messaged me some months ago to present himself as a friend in dark times.
Now, I’ve known Simon a long time and he isn’t known for his acts of kindness or for treating people well. He’s an angry serial shagger with a mean mouth and a dark heart.
And when pressed he admitted he’d split with his girlfriend and was looking for another.
A few weeks later there was a new one his Facebook feed, looking just like his ex-wife.
He’s the kind of man who is convinced a man and a woman cannot be friends, because what would be the point?
A friendship with a woman is simply an advert of his failure.
To those people who think I should have moved on by now I ask you this.
Do you remember your first car, your first job, your first time?
Doesn’t it feel like it was only yesterday?