I don’t know how to write about this, yet I feel I have to. This is a call for advice to people more experienced than me. I don’t know what to do anymore.
I’m having relationship doubts.
When I met Experiment No.7, I had some serious commitment issues going on. And so did he, even though his problem with commitment wasn’t as obvious as mine. Given that, sticking together was mutually beneficial. No one would expect something the other wasn’t willing to give.
I still have some of those issues… but at the same time I have also worked myself to a mentally better place, one where I am not looking towards a quick and easy death anymore, but an actual lifetime. I have started to care about having a future. I have started to care about plans and hopes and dreams and… you know, stuff people care about when they’re not depressed or psychotic. I have reached the point where I actually want to have a life worth living.
And he doesn’t. Or at least, he doesn’t show it. He still doesn’t seem to give a shit.
It has made me wonder why I am staying.
Am I staying because I feel there is nothing better out there? Or because I think I don’t deserve anything better? Or because I’m actually perfectly all right with how it is? Or because it is just easy to stay?
I often think it is because staying is easy. Effortless great sex, affection when I need it, a listening ear, no expectations, no fuss, no drama… it’s easy. Never mind that he has no ambition, doesn’t support me, doesn’t bring out the best in me, has no commitment to a future with me whatsoever, and is kind of spineless in general. It’s easy, and if I have one glaring fault, it is my love of ease. Leaving would mean a large stretch of time in which I have to miss all the perks of having a partner, I would have to deal with tying up all the emotional loose ends of a broken relationship, and I would also have to do some major work on myself and my unpleasant character. Lots of work and no assurance of a happy end, so… I stay.
In that manner, I am basically as bad as he is. He treats me (and himself, and his parents, and the whole of his life) with the same indifferent ennui, just because it is easy.
According to my mother, he’s a lazy coward. She finds backup for that sentiment with a couple of my friends, who are somewhat more colorful in their disapproval. (After listening to a rant on how I am wasting my oh-so-short life with a lame fuck not even worth the effort of removing his sorry little head from his spineless body, I think “colorful” is the least I can call it.)
Don’t get me wrong, I am attached to him.
I really do like him; his humor, the many wicked ways he can make me come undone, his acceptance of my unpleasant character and mental issues… He’s cute-looking too, and a genuine good guy, not a bad bone in him. And did I mention that he comes with sweet parents and a great group of friends? He has a lot going for him; he’s quite the catch actually. My affection for him is definitely real. Also, I have always lived by the principle that if he deals with my shit, the least I can do is not kick a fuss over his.
If I didn’t feel any love for him, I would never even have gotten in so deep with him. In fact, he might just be the first partner that I felt anything other than lust or scientific interest for. Which makes all this even more painful.
Not because he gave up his studies and is looking forward to a life of hard, manual work. As long as it’s honest, he will have all my support.
Not because my parents and friends disapprove of him. I mean, my mother disapproves of a lot of nice things, and my friends think challenging people to armed combat is a viable way to solve your issues with them. That says enough.
Not because he has mental issues. Everyone knows that I have a fair share of those myself.
Not because I don’t love him.
I doubt because I am starting to feel that I don’t really mean all that much to him.
For all his talk of a couple being a unit, of people belonging together, even of me being his soulmate (can you believe it?!)… he doesn’t include me in major decisions in his life.* He doesn’t dream of having a life together, he doesn’t think of a future for us, doesn’t try to advance and support me as I try to do for him… Summarized: he cares enough to make a breakup an earth-shattering disaster, but he does not care enough to actively make that breakup less of a possibility.
I knew what I got when I decided to have a relationship with him. I KNEW IT. I always frown on girls who try to change their man and then break up when it won’t work out. It’s like bringing a rescue pet back to the shelter, or complaining about a bargain bin article being damaged. I’m not like that. I don’t want to be like that. I knew what I was signing up for.
Maybe it is me who is spineless and ease-loving for even contemplating a break-up? I’m probably having unrealistic expectations. This is probably as good as it gets for someone like me, and I’m just dumb for wishing it was more. Men don’t do commitment, especially not to girls like me.
The bottom line here? Emotional commitment sucks. I should have just stuck with random sex with random people. (Even so, I’m still conflicted. What am I supposed to do now?)