I have a tendency to love the potential in men. I have a superhuman ability to not see what they are in reality, but instead, see all the dormant attributes they have and all the things they could accomplish. Most of the time, these men are troubled by broken families, drugs or the want to continue to play the part of Peter Pan.
Taking a look at myself as an outsider, I wonder what makes me long to be with these individuals. It leaves me with the conclusion that I cling to men that show me the slightest "disinterest;" Forever trying to live up to what they need to feel complete.
I've played the role of father figure more than George Michael. I've been the protector and the one that plans ahead and sets the tone for our future.
Sometimes I will even wear the short skirt sans a blouse and pom poms to show support for my man. I've held down a household for two, paid for cars to be fixed, tickets around the world and clothes needed for a job that was never got.
I should never take on this endeavor, but I have found myself trying to "save" men who masked innumerable tribulations with alcohol, coke, weed or infidelity. I put myself last and sacrificed my soul over and over so they could feel "good" about themselves.
My ever-changing roles have left me mentally tired of relationships. I realize these are relationships that I have cultivated and men I have chosen. I put these men in a position over me and gave them everything until my marrow was dry; just so they could say the words "I love you." I've grown somewhat and can no longer wear some of those masks and some, I don't choose to place over my face.