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|Now with 25% more heartache! And a bonus crappy animal metaphor!
|Lesson learned today: The worst part about the ending of a relationship isn't so much the ending of said-relationship, so much as the beginning of a new one. Or the several beginnings that never quite blossom into a full-blown relationship.|
It can best be compared to what goes down in a nature documentary that focuses on the release of a captive-born animal into the wild. Growing up, the creature is comfortable and safe. Bottle-fed, loving arms, everything is safe, there's a routine. You always know where your next meal is coming from and there's never any fear of predators. Of course, eventually the decision is made: The time has come for the wild.
That's when the training begins. The creature instinctually knows how to hunt. And it knows it needs to hunt to eat. However, it needs practice. It needs to learn (but to keep the metaphor strong, let's just go with "re-learn") how to survive on it's own, without any support. Time is spent making sure the animal can survive on its own. The trainers are cautious to take things slow. They build up "trust" in the animal, watching its progress as it becomes more and more independent, capable of stalking its prey, avoiding predators, etc.
All within the safe confines of the nature reserve, zoo, whatever the case may be. Of course, this all goes to shit when the animal is released into the wild. Why? Nature is unpredictable. No matter how prepared the animal is, chance will always be the biggest factor.
There's always going to be that chance. Me? I was kicked right the fuck out of Disney's Wild Animal Park onto the African plains. At first, things were okay. I was dazed, confused, and scared. But I was surviving. Scavenging for food (read: self-confidence) where I could find it, cautious of anything and everything around me...
And then it happened. Seemingly out of the blue. I began to trust my surroundings. "Oh wow. Okay, yeah! This isn't so bad. I can totally do this. Time to start hunting." So I did. And tonight, I got a fuckin' gazelle hoof to the face. Or the nuts. However you want to put it.
Just because you think you're ready, doesn't mean you are. And even if you are? It doesn't mean that she knows that she's ready when she says that she is. It's not lying, it's just a lack of self-awareness.
The irony is that those who lack in self-awareness are almost always the ones who hurt others. And those who are self-aware tend to trust those who aren't because they're so focused on themselves. I feel lied to without actually having been lied to. She was confused, I was too trusting too soon. Weird, though. If I were to tell a girl I wasn't going to leave, slept with her a few days after the fact, and broke-up with her the next day, I'd be a terrible human being.
Have I said too much? Probably. I'm too old for this shit. Aren't all 25 year-olds supposed to blog about how nifty Animal Collective is? Fuck that band. End rant...
That being said? Lions are the shit. Who wants to go to the zoo with me?
|Tags: relationships, silly rabbit tricks are for chicks, going to the zoo