Captain AFC
Don Juan
- Joined
- Jan 17, 2006
- Messages
- 41
- Reaction score
- 1
Forgive the cliche username. It's all I could think of that would be appropriate at the time, even though so many of us have "AFC" in our username.
I feel like re-capping my story, and then asking for a little advice. Maybe it'll all be redundant. If so, then lock the thread and let it disappear. The story won't surprise anyone, of course. I felt like I was practically reading my life story over and over again in this particular section, but I still feel the need to vent on my own particular situation.
So I dated this girl for five years (we started young) and I found myself to be every bit the AFC that this site defines it as. I treated women with respect, I always thought of their feelings first, I always gushed about my emotions from time to time, I was devoted, I spent all my time with this person, etc. etc.
The years go by and we're off to college, doing the long distance thing. We stay loyal to one another, and I talk to her on the phone all the time. The first year or so are normal fare. You don't really get to pick up on the baggage a person has inside of them when you're young, and it can take time for them to break out of their shell. Either way, sooner or later I'm finding out this girl battles severe depression, occasionally expressing a desire to harm herself. Eventually, the calls about that stopped, and I would just receive the periodic message about going to the hospital because of too many sleeping pills. On top of this, we talked on the phone all the time, and I would beg occasionally for time to myself. In essence, I was this girls emotional "tampon" (I guess that's the popular lingo here) before she even had a serious boyfriend in her life.
So the years go by, and I put up with it, until eventually my own self esteem goes through the gutter. Even being together was a downer. I'd do everything I could to cheer her up. Even shake her physically and make silly noises to get her out of her rut. But the constant woe is me never stopped. But I loved the girl and didn't quit on her. Not once. She wasn't a looker by any means, but I liked her enough. At some point, at my mother's prodding (go figure, she acts a like a man, I swear), I finally ask to take a bit of break from the relationship. Not an emotional break where we date other folks. But just to stay off the phone for a month. I was in college and my grades were suffering and I wasn't getting any direction. Meanwhile, her grades were up, she was an honor's student, and collecting a whole army of friends. I was falling off a cliff.
So we take the break, but she hardly lets up, so much so that when we finally get back together at the end of the month, she is totally unapologetic, and boasts frequently of how her friends urge her to dump me. She calls the whole thing stupid, but I don't really pick up on the fact that she's still in lala land about the whole event, and we move on. Another two years go by. We get engaged, blah blah. The phone call frequency drops, but I suppose that was the point where I as an individual had completely died. I started to have the typical male problems, but I always understood that those were MY problems, and never unrealistically expected my mate to suddenly shed tons of weight and become a wildcat in bed. I had resigned myself to the life of the forgiving nice guy.
I finally graduate from school, but my graduation day is marred with memories of her crying to me about how my relatives called her fat. The rest of that event is just an absent blur. I get accepted to grad school and decide that I'll go to her school, since it's good and we can finally live together. I always wanted to do this anyway, so I show up. Needless to say, this last year was the year of reckoning. Within the span of six months of living together, she bulldozes right over me. I become aloof and detached, playing games on my computer all the time. I don't even notice what's happening to me, and hardly notice that she's completely changing her attitude about me. I hardly sleep with her (my concept of beauty isn't all physical... you don't have to be a supermodel, but if you're not AND you're pounding on me mentally day after day... well, you get the point).
She arranges for things for us to do, but never with prior consultation. We're living with her friends, so it's always just a, "Well, me and my friends are doing this. Come along." Sometimes I would, but eventually even that tired me out, so I would opt out politely. I figured I'd be allowed to just rest a bit by myself. I never had even a second thought about marriage or leaving the girl. But I suppose not going out all the time is a no-no to women. Go figure. By the time spring time comes around, she's already arranged her entire spring break. I learn about what's going to happen the day of, and even then we're going two separate directions for a bit. I decide, at my father's suggestion, to go to work this time around since i had no money.
By the time that ends, I'm on the "We have to talk list" (I bailed on a "planned" concert-going event primarly because I was pissed off). I'm told off because of this, but accept responsibility and say that I was wrong (ignoring, of course, any issues I might have had at the time). To make the rest of the story short, you can predict the rest. After apologizing and basically saying I'm wrong, I suppose she felt gratified enough and the proceeded to drop the "we're through bomb." Within four hours, that is "renegged" and then four hours after, another reneg. Even trying to keep space to myself and the silent treatment is an insult, and I'm told promptly that I deserve what's happening to me. I, being Captain AFC, take this all to heart. You can imagine how the rest of the months went. "My friends hate you, but you can attend my grad party and watch me have a real good time." Fortunately, I wasn't that stupid towards the end, but boy did I think I sucked hardcore.
Fast foward. It hasn't even been a year. I'm wondering how the heck to proceed here. I've spent months lamenting after this one person that essentially hates my guts, and blames all life's problems on me (never mind that I was her solution years ago). I've read the threads around here, but I have to admit I don't even have the drive to do those things. I keep feeling guilty about the whole thing. Sometimes, I even read a thread about interest levels, and the works, and all I keep thinking is that I failed to maintain the interest level in my own relationship. Too bad I invested my entire heart into that one. Kind of hard to brush that one off and say, "Welp, learning mistake. I'll do better next time!"
I went to a movie recently with another woman. It was great, but it wasn't really a date, as I both A) didn't initiate the idea, B) didn't make any moves or progress C) Had plenty of kino, like the whole day, but I essentially never acted on or progressed it D) reading these boards, it seems the serious prohibition of ONEitis is becoming one of my issues.
I'm beginning to think I should just abandon women, finish grad school (it's a cesspool of female deityhood, by the way, you can practically feel it... or at least the people I was always exposed to think this way), get the job, and work on just reconstructing my own sanity. The only examples and images of men I've ever gotten are either the old man who turned out to be an ******* (hence, he is alone) and the AFC like myself who grows old, pitiful looking, and doesn't have the balls to admit that his wife drove him nuts (because in his mind, women are never wrong, they never act inappropriately, and oh yes, catering to men is evil). Or, he's just alone too, because gosh darnit, there must have been something wrong with him. Not caring or supportive enough, I guess... My father and mother have a great relationship, but my father is a reserved man that loves his work, and so we don't get as personal as I do with my mother. But something about getting advice from my mother is disconcerting all the time. Heck, it even disconcerts her.
So, am I lost cause here, or what?
I feel like re-capping my story, and then asking for a little advice. Maybe it'll all be redundant. If so, then lock the thread and let it disappear. The story won't surprise anyone, of course. I felt like I was practically reading my life story over and over again in this particular section, but I still feel the need to vent on my own particular situation.
So I dated this girl for five years (we started young) and I found myself to be every bit the AFC that this site defines it as. I treated women with respect, I always thought of their feelings first, I always gushed about my emotions from time to time, I was devoted, I spent all my time with this person, etc. etc.
The years go by and we're off to college, doing the long distance thing. We stay loyal to one another, and I talk to her on the phone all the time. The first year or so are normal fare. You don't really get to pick up on the baggage a person has inside of them when you're young, and it can take time for them to break out of their shell. Either way, sooner or later I'm finding out this girl battles severe depression, occasionally expressing a desire to harm herself. Eventually, the calls about that stopped, and I would just receive the periodic message about going to the hospital because of too many sleeping pills. On top of this, we talked on the phone all the time, and I would beg occasionally for time to myself. In essence, I was this girls emotional "tampon" (I guess that's the popular lingo here) before she even had a serious boyfriend in her life.
So the years go by, and I put up with it, until eventually my own self esteem goes through the gutter. Even being together was a downer. I'd do everything I could to cheer her up. Even shake her physically and make silly noises to get her out of her rut. But the constant woe is me never stopped. But I loved the girl and didn't quit on her. Not once. She wasn't a looker by any means, but I liked her enough. At some point, at my mother's prodding (go figure, she acts a like a man, I swear), I finally ask to take a bit of break from the relationship. Not an emotional break where we date other folks. But just to stay off the phone for a month. I was in college and my grades were suffering and I wasn't getting any direction. Meanwhile, her grades were up, she was an honor's student, and collecting a whole army of friends. I was falling off a cliff.
So we take the break, but she hardly lets up, so much so that when we finally get back together at the end of the month, she is totally unapologetic, and boasts frequently of how her friends urge her to dump me. She calls the whole thing stupid, but I don't really pick up on the fact that she's still in lala land about the whole event, and we move on. Another two years go by. We get engaged, blah blah. The phone call frequency drops, but I suppose that was the point where I as an individual had completely died. I started to have the typical male problems, but I always understood that those were MY problems, and never unrealistically expected my mate to suddenly shed tons of weight and become a wildcat in bed. I had resigned myself to the life of the forgiving nice guy.
I finally graduate from school, but my graduation day is marred with memories of her crying to me about how my relatives called her fat. The rest of that event is just an absent blur. I get accepted to grad school and decide that I'll go to her school, since it's good and we can finally live together. I always wanted to do this anyway, so I show up. Needless to say, this last year was the year of reckoning. Within the span of six months of living together, she bulldozes right over me. I become aloof and detached, playing games on my computer all the time. I don't even notice what's happening to me, and hardly notice that she's completely changing her attitude about me. I hardly sleep with her (my concept of beauty isn't all physical... you don't have to be a supermodel, but if you're not AND you're pounding on me mentally day after day... well, you get the point).
She arranges for things for us to do, but never with prior consultation. We're living with her friends, so it's always just a, "Well, me and my friends are doing this. Come along." Sometimes I would, but eventually even that tired me out, so I would opt out politely. I figured I'd be allowed to just rest a bit by myself. I never had even a second thought about marriage or leaving the girl. But I suppose not going out all the time is a no-no to women. Go figure. By the time spring time comes around, she's already arranged her entire spring break. I learn about what's going to happen the day of, and even then we're going two separate directions for a bit. I decide, at my father's suggestion, to go to work this time around since i had no money.
By the time that ends, I'm on the "We have to talk list" (I bailed on a "planned" concert-going event primarly because I was pissed off). I'm told off because of this, but accept responsibility and say that I was wrong (ignoring, of course, any issues I might have had at the time). To make the rest of the story short, you can predict the rest. After apologizing and basically saying I'm wrong, I suppose she felt gratified enough and the proceeded to drop the "we're through bomb." Within four hours, that is "renegged" and then four hours after, another reneg. Even trying to keep space to myself and the silent treatment is an insult, and I'm told promptly that I deserve what's happening to me. I, being Captain AFC, take this all to heart. You can imagine how the rest of the months went. "My friends hate you, but you can attend my grad party and watch me have a real good time." Fortunately, I wasn't that stupid towards the end, but boy did I think I sucked hardcore.
Fast foward. It hasn't even been a year. I'm wondering how the heck to proceed here. I've spent months lamenting after this one person that essentially hates my guts, and blames all life's problems on me (never mind that I was her solution years ago). I've read the threads around here, but I have to admit I don't even have the drive to do those things. I keep feeling guilty about the whole thing. Sometimes, I even read a thread about interest levels, and the works, and all I keep thinking is that I failed to maintain the interest level in my own relationship. Too bad I invested my entire heart into that one. Kind of hard to brush that one off and say, "Welp, learning mistake. I'll do better next time!"
I went to a movie recently with another woman. It was great, but it wasn't really a date, as I both A) didn't initiate the idea, B) didn't make any moves or progress C) Had plenty of kino, like the whole day, but I essentially never acted on or progressed it D) reading these boards, it seems the serious prohibition of ONEitis is becoming one of my issues.
I'm beginning to think I should just abandon women, finish grad school (it's a cesspool of female deityhood, by the way, you can practically feel it... or at least the people I was always exposed to think this way), get the job, and work on just reconstructing my own sanity. The only examples and images of men I've ever gotten are either the old man who turned out to be an ******* (hence, he is alone) and the AFC like myself who grows old, pitiful looking, and doesn't have the balls to admit that his wife drove him nuts (because in his mind, women are never wrong, they never act inappropriately, and oh yes, catering to men is evil). Or, he's just alone too, because gosh darnit, there must have been something wrong with him. Not caring or supportive enough, I guess... My father and mother have a great relationship, but my father is a reserved man that loves his work, and so we don't get as personal as I do with my mother. But something about getting advice from my mother is disconcerting all the time. Heck, it even disconcerts her.
So, am I lost cause here, or what?
