When I was dating, I used to refer to the men I dated by their line of work. I have a friend who labeled them by the town they lived in. It was a cataloging method which helped my friends keep track of all the guys as the revolving door of my dating life turned round and round.
I have dated The Fireman, The Ranger, The Engineer, The Banker, The Geologist, The Australian (because he never did actually have a job), The Painter, The Range Master, The Teacher — well you get the idea.
This piece is about The Seal.
He was a retired Navy Seal. And I made him cry.
I’ve probably made more than a few men cry. Most of them were tears of relief or joy — I’m sure — after I was no longer in their life. But I digress.
The Seal cried during the end of our relationship, however, not when we had broken up. And in that fact, he was unique.
It all came about insidiously, as things tend to do with the male of the species. The Seal was well on his way to worming his way into my life. Taking over my spaces and my time. There were Red Flares about him going off in my brain like a Fourth of July celebration.
I was living in a perpetual state of annoyance and talking myself down off the ledge of it nearly daily because…well, mostly because I really liked his dog. I hadn’t had a dog around in a long time and he had a very cool dog. Is that reason enough to put up with a man? For me, at the time, it was. And I think he was counting on me loving his dog so much that I wouldn’t notice how much of a pain in the ass he was becoming.
But then one day he went one step too far. He pushed me on a subject that I loved WAY more than I would ever love his damn dog.
He told me he wanted me to stop riding my motorcycle.
He explained he had once had a motorcycle accident and he was terrified that he would one day come upon the scene of me laying on the asphalt bent and broken. And he would be helpless to help me. Because even that was still about him. Him being unable to help me.
I laughed at him. Seriously — right out loud. At his audacity. At his fucking nerve. At the very thought of me giving up my motorcycle for a MAN! Simply because he had a case of the hebejebes about maybe down the road not being able to help me. Someday. One day. IF I ever had an accident. It was so ludicrous it defied explanation.
And that’s when he started crying.
I’m not sure if it was because I laughed at his fear — because it was real and he was being vulnerable. Or if it was a manipulation tactic (likely the later). But when I saw him sitting on my couch — crying, because I wouldn’t bend to his will — that’s when I threw him out. And his dog.
Although throwing out the dog really broke my heart.
Moral of the story:
Listen to your Inner Wisdom when She’s sending up the Red Flares. She knows shit.
Let no one take Your Power. Controlling men seek to control.
If you want a cool dog — go to a shelter or a rescue, not a dating app.