YOU ARE NOT A GOOD FIT

When it comes to music lyrics, poetry and storytelling it’s often when things go wrong that humans feel the need to express themselves. Sure, people express themselves all the time with social media, in that space everyone is showing everyone the best things that are happening to them, for the most part. We can also see the opposite of this with the formation of hate groups across the internet.

With social media everyone has a voice, like a religious zealot standing on a box in the street and shouting through a megaphone, some people listen because of the pure novelty, others listen to laugh and some actually listen because they are interested. A similar situation happens when people see an accident in their car and start rubbernecking, there’s often not much that can be done but the spectacle of the situation is attractive.

You can compare this to the amount of murder mystery shows on TV or on the streaming services. There are so many shows about murders, crimes, and violence, the reality most people would never want anything that happens to people in these shows to happen to them. I mean you may think that some of these things are glamourous or of interest, but do you really want to get murdered, have your legs blown off, go to prison, be in a car wreck, find out you husband has had another family without you knowing, lose all your money, have your children molested by a priest, should i go on? I think you get the picture.

This brings me to the point of this post. I don’t have a story of disaster, murder or hate. I find that the only times I have ever written much down in terms of poetry or attempts at poetry is when I have a personal interaction, with most often, a women.

When it comes to women and poetry, it is normally a women that I hope to be intimate with and if it’s not intimacy that causes emotionality, then it’s often a breakdown in trust or connection.

There was a moment when a lady who had been pursuing me for a month or so, advances that I had been resisting initially because I wanted to make sure she was sincere, when we finally spent a night together and did the deed, you know what i mean, the very next day she told me she could no longer see me.

I’d never been around such a ruthless lady before, she was a lawyer, and l asked her ‘was the sex that bad?’ She said the sex was great but she had to focus on her work. I didn’t get it at all, why wouldn’t she want more, after all she pursued me. She was the kind of person that if i ignored her she would come around and then once I started paying attention to her she would then start ignoring me again. I’m really crap at games so I had no idea how to deal with a person like this, eventually I had to move on.

One of the ways I did this was to write on some papers all my feelings, everything I felt about the situation at the time. Then I went in the garden and burned those papers.

The amazing thing was it actually cured me. Its weird to say so, but the process of really putting the thoughts out there and then letting go of them through the burning of the paper, allowed me to move on. From that moment I was able to handle seeing that women around town, bumping into her, having to interact with her at events and other friends gatherings. Admittedly it put a damper on my view of women for awhile and certainly colored some of my decision making towards people interested in connecting with me, it made me less tolerant of certain types of actions.

Fast forward a few years from the experiences laid out above to a time during the pandemic. There had been a women who I had never met, I had seen her in posts online from people I knew. She was a nurse, but was also transitioning to her own business, she had her own website. I got a good vibe about her, of course she seemed very pretty and I wanted to meet her, as you can imagine during the pandemic this was not easy. So I emailed her on her website, introducing myself, and just saying it would be nice if she was down to chat as an experiment, no strings. I didn’t hear anything for awhile but then I got a text message saying she would like to chat, she had emailed me but hadn’t heard anything so wondered if it went into my spam folder.

I was pretty stoked, and we had a number of long phone conversations. We seemed to get on, so much so that we met up for lunch one day when she was in town. Now I must say that she was a lot taller than me, for me of course that wasn’t a problem, but for a lot of women it is, they don’t want to date someone shorter than them.

The date went well and everything seemed cool. We spoke again at length, but later on I got a text message one day ending her interaction with me. At the time I was a little taken aback while also laughing at the message I recieved.

A few months later I sent her message expressing how silly and disrespectful I thought her message was. She responded to this message saying she was sorry and understood where I was coming from and that yes she had treated me poorly, she owed me a little more than a text message ending our interaction after all the conversations and vibes we had together. This didn’t mean she wanted anything to do with me, but I have learned that when I become clearer about whether I have been shamed, bullied or hurt it’s important to let the people who hurt me know my side of the story, often times people have no clue the effect of their actions, they are completely self absorbed in their world. This lady thought her text message was enough, ending a friendship via a text message was just normal behaviour.

Which brings me to the poem below. I wrote this poem after I got this text message ending our interaction, and so highlighting how humans often only write when things are a little edgy, when there is something to write about. There aren’t many of us writing about the beauty of this world, the things we love, people do share these moments but the genre of drama seems to be more fruitful as an artistic endeavor. Not that I am saying this poetry is any good. I found it in a stack of papers I needed to sort and have now since disposed of them.

Expression is often just a conduit to let go of things, to let go of the stuff that affected us.

“A concrete statement.
You are not a good fit.
Bang. Done. Dusted.
It’s not you It’s me.
Bang. Done. Dusted.
It’s not you It’s me.
The mind.
The idea.
It felt good.
It felt right.
It felt real.
No space.
History has shown.
I wonder why.
Finally.
You just never know.
Bang. Done. Dusted. ”