2002-11-01

Life is such a game...

Yesterday arvo, sipping a sparkling red and smoking a little cuban, Mistress M and I were pondering the ups and downs of love and hanging out when along came a real life test project for us.

For purposes of anonimity let's call him Mr T. Mr T is a 27 year old swarthy fella of Italian descent with a penchant for Dr Who and the cartoon Family Guy. A simple man, a man who enjoys Arnotts Scotch Finger biscuits and Vanilla Coke. Incidentally, Mistress M's next door neighbour. Conversation gets around to the business of being neighbours and he reveals that he envies M her obviously active and vocal sex life. She in turn responds with a statement on her complete lack of envy for his rather turbulent domestic state which is quite obviously audible through the thin walls of her St Kilda flat.

Is he a bad man who wishes to harm a woman he claims to care about? Au contrare - it seems that Mistress M and I were talking to one of the last men on earth who actually enjoys physical contact in a romantic way and who prefers foreplay to straight up and down sex. His lady friend is in a bad way it would appear, and walks all over him, calling him a stupid fat cunt and the like. I wondered how true this was and turned to Mistress M for confirmation who nodded and pointed out that she never heard him giving a verbal beat up, but was well aware of his lady's obvious distate for her lover. What a sad state of affairs.

Why did he let her do this to him? He seemed so sad and unsure of what to do, claiming that he loved her and felt unable to help her get past whatever this thing is that makes her a bitch. No doubt he is no angel, and certainly not the wisest boy on earth if he let someone treat him like a piece of dried up dog turd, but still the question bugs me... why?

Its really easy to say that women always get the wrong end of the stick and that blokes have all the good stuff in life, but it is not always true. For centuries women have manipulated, lied and schemed to get their way, me included. And men too, tis true. This is a problem greater than gender - why do we let people we love treat us like crap? M and I were both adamant that T should leave, even if just to put some space in the relationship so that was has been broken can try to be repaired. We were both astonished that he put up with what he does, but then we remembered a few things that we have put up with for the sake of love, and company, and sharing half the rent. Lord knows, were I a free agent I would be onto T like a flash (fantastic fucking forearms, ever my weakness). But I also thought about the maxim "we teach people how to treat us" (thanks Dr Phil) and thought that maybe T is insecure and just wants his belief confirmed by a woman who decimates his ego on a regular basis.

So the twisty, gnarly question for me this week - what am I teaching people to treat me like? What am I actually worth and am I settling for less? And how often should one be getting sex?

Probably more often than I am. Which explains my current prediliction for real life soap opera, Dr Phil, and red wine. Sexual boredom has made me into a gossip...

At least I have a new hero for my masturbatory fantasies - "Oh Mr T, what big glorious forearms you have..."

bitch - moan