I used to be able to read the Iliad in Latin.
I used to know Pi to 20 places.
A Calculus textbook might as well be written in French, which I also used to know.
I remember their birthday.
Most of their favorite foods.
I remember their relatives.
Stories of their past, their memories forever intertwined with mine as if I experienced them myself.
Eh, give me Latin.
Its a dead language of romance but still more valuable than the language of dead romance that is lost intimacy. I think about the times I allowed myself to be vulnerable and while in the moment it was a feeling of peace like no other but when the love fades I’m just trying to get them secrets back. I don’t want to be her and his pillow talk, a funny story she shares during ladies night, (or the subject of a blog, twitter rant, loosely characterized in a novel). Ultimately, I got to take the L, because generally women want vulnerability. Not shamelessly open, as she still wants to be one that turns breaks down the walls. She wants to be Superwoman. However, men typically aren’t looking to be saved. At least I’m not.
In my experience, the most vulnerable of men are simply being manipulative. They are way more in their feelings, unapologetically broke, no plans just dreams, grinds no investments. I look at my sister and Hurricane Buckfoy and all I see is a relationship of duty not love. Mistresses know of the partner who makes him so unhappy, and she’s the escape. I have a friend who notoriously dates “projects” if a few things come together he’d be perfect but in the meantime she’s his everything and she accepts the role, cape flying in the wind.
Now to keep it all the way 100, I too have used vulnerability for gains. Men and women both run that “I’m afraid of getting too close” game. I’ve thrown bones just because, nothing really humbling but enough to build some form of intimacy. Then I’ve really felt close enough to open up to people, shared things I never thought I would. Its almost like an out of body experience, you are telling yourself shut up but you’re just flowing. She just takes it all in, the secrets, the emotions, the feelings and no burden is too great, she’s Superwoman. But once its all over, now what?
Superwoman finds a new person to save, just as I find myself having to start over with a new one. Maybe in time my Superwomen will become like Calculus, and I’ll become like the lines this one girl forgot during a play in middle school…..see why do I know that but can’t remember C++, this some ol bullshit.