The Stopping of the Giving of the Fucks

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our coaching call, I always give her a headsup.
Dear Sara,
It’s hard to say when I decided to pull myself up by my bootstraps, get back on the field, which I seemed to have given up to former and potential lovers, professions, employers and a variety of financial and sexual saviors to, I don’t know, take a fucking dump or something?
I mean for FUCK’S SAKE what was I thinking Sara?!
What were all these people still doing on my field? Why were they invited or why did I even allow them on? 
download (21)But dating problems aside as to when it started, I do think the moment of having a next level fuck-that-shit-moment, putting my cap back on, wiping the snot out of my eyes and the blood off my face, spitting on the home base and giving the pitcher a determined look that regardless of what he was gonna throw at me,
I was going to knock this thing out of the park;
That moment had been brewing for a while.
That I had actually been very aware, right from that lousy 10th of December, of how difficult it had been for me.
Not just to see my lover leave. But the why.

It had been a genuine choice by him, and a big leap forward from a moral perspective (and who does not wish for their loved ones to have a clear conscience?). But there had been circumstances which caused me to think this was not entirely voluntarily. This was a man doing what he had to do because life had been so cruel, he could no longer allow for his own cruelty to coexist.
The only way to do the right thing, was to become the angel he had never been.
Now I m the first one to admit my perception is terribly biased. And it’s certainly not as if he sat me down and explained himself or defended himself.
But then again:
If he had left me for a badass girl half my age, who filled his penthouse with the smoke of pot, and considered out loud if she’d take a pet hyena – I would have known that.
It’s not an ego thing, that I frame my ex-lover’s departure into him taking a step back to take responsibility over his life. 
And it’s not even an ego thing that I unconsciously waited for him, for two months and 19 days.
It’s not even because I thought he would not get by without my company, my love, my sex. In fact I believed it to be a huge relief, to finally not have this “mistress thing” haunting you at night.
I don’t know, I don’t know….
Maybe it was because I did respect him so much and did not take this breakup personally, that I wanted to wait to make sure he didn’t come back.
Or maybe the past few months of waiting were my own personal mourning time. 
All I knew, and this is the strange part, was that I couldn’t cut ties, nor recognized how powerless I was making myself, until I applied for what I unabashedly labeled “my dream job”.
It was an organization that I love, my favorite department, the location is smashing and it buzzes with energy and worldly excitement. (no it’s not a brothel! lol) 
To say “I applied” would be an understatement.
I energetically aligned with them, and wrote a letter from the heart yet it referred to universal principles and could have passed as their 2020 mission statement.
I think it cost me half a workweek, but afterwards it was no longer a question if they were going to give me the job;
It was only a question if they could afford not to.
I know it must sound arrogant but just like I had been convinced I was an extremely good mistress, who had offered a unique and extremely valuable arrangement (and her heart!) to the man she loved;
I knew what I offered this company, was beyond their wildest dreams.
And then: Nothing.
Turns out nothingness is pretty killing when you can’t wait to start having the amazing kickass relationship you saw in your mind’s eye.
Until it finally hits you.
If someone takes THAT amount of time?

It’s not a match.
Sure: you could play the game out. Keep your cool. Pretend you didn’t even notice their response took ages, and be like:
“Oh! Now I remember, yes! That application! Jeez, I d forgotten about that, but yeah, I d love to meet up!”
And if this organization had been anyone but my dream employer, I would have had no problem playing this game out, bluffing my way through as if it was poker.
And I would have won.
But that hard to get strategy, is not how you win the game of love.
This can only be won by showing your heart. Just like I ve never been shy towards my lover that I was crazy about him. 
In the beginning, when my lover just like this employer, slowed things down by cold shouldering me, I was very vocal and broke up with him.
I said I was crazy about him, and since he seemed to insist on being irritated over how “difficult” I was, I was apparently alone in those feelings.
So bye then.
It was an incident that he would bring up, whenever we brushed on the subject of choosing for each other and get a “real” relationship.
His “You just walked out of me” versus mine “Only because you didn’t want me there”.
But it worked.
And he learned that I would support him, always. That I stood by him, even if he didn’t contact me. I had full faith in his ability to manage his own life, and plan when he wanted to see me and when he didn’t.
But he knew I was crazy about him, and that he wasn’t allowed to treat me as someone who didn’t care.
He had to acknowledge how special he was to me.
That was all I asked.
And that’s what happened after waiting for them for two weeks to respond to my letter: I broke up with them, by withdrawing my application.
Because I finally saw that it was not their responsibility to explain or excuse themselves or to be a good future employer.
It was my responsibility to get the fuck out of there.
It was never my path to fit into a neatly crafted position, something my application had overdelivered on from the start.
My application and the weeks of silence had been equal to falling in love with someone who has not made up his mind, and who has no interest in acknowledging your feelings. Meanwhile leaving you with your heart all open and out in the streets.
Maybe they’ll pick it up for you, once they’ve made up their mind.
Or maybe they’ll trammel it.
Which leaves you with only two healthy choices:
Quit (if it’s real love) or turn the game around and treat them the way they treat you.

Pretend it leaves you completely neutral that they ignore you for weeks, and start dating their biggest competitor.
And in all likeliness it has to be a two-puncher:
First quit.
Then if he wins you back, you still have to keep your cool.

This is how I played my cards with my lover, and it’s why I got to be his mistress for five years, and I regret none of it.
Not playing the game, he was used to winning.
Not investing so much time and energy into someone who I have never been able to call “mine”.
It was all worth it.
If the object of your affection is your number one priority, you should take your chances.
However, before you do, a moment of contemplation is in order.
And in my case that moment came as soon as I started Googling my other options. Searching LinkedIn for the people who ran similar organizations where I could offer my services and make a serious impact.
When suddenly I realized:
“Wait a minute! This is not MY path! This is not my job. No job is.”
Once again, AGAIN (!! I can’t stress the stupidity I felt) I had bought into the fantasy that next to my purpose work as an independent, there was a job for me.
A warm and fuzzy place where I was a normal person, and people expected normal things that were not about me.
Where I was part of a team.
Where I belonged.
There is no such place, Sara.
Just like my relationships with men can be better than they ever had, and I do make sure that they are;
They will always choose someone more relatable and more presentable to settle down with.
Just like my entrepreneurial skills will outdo those of any other employee in terms of making money and making an impact:
They will always choose someone less outspoken and easier to be around with, to take within their walls.
Unless you make it your number one priority.
Any game can be won, if you insist on it.
I could have won the heart and become the woman at the side of my lover. Just as I could have gotten this job.
If I had made it my sole focus of attention and dropped anything else.
My writing.
My publishing.
My speaking.
And my entire new life and career which I m currently crafting under my other name.
It’s almost as if the other people instinctively know me better than I know myself. That my lover knew I would never stop writing (about us) not even if my life or our love depended on it.
And that any employer will understand that ultimately I don’t live for them.
I live for me.
There are no fuzzy office corners with friends for me, Sara.
No job where I ll not be haunted by the idea that the real work is waiting for me at home.
There is no bed for me, where I’m always welcome.
Those were all things that I thought I would get, in return for allowing all those people on the field. I was so, so wrong. I need tattoos to remember this, I need high level boundaries, I need to stop giving fucks and I definitely need to get real about whose game this is.
There is a movie with Madonna from 1990, Dick Tracey. She plays a nightclub singer Breathless Mahony.
Confused by all the crime cartels in his city, Dick Tracey tries to figure out who Madonna is playing for.

Dick Tracey:
“Whose side are you one?”


Breathless Mahony: 
“The side I m always on. Mine.”

Mine, Sara.

An unexamined life is not worth living

coming soon: new books

1. Reboot – a hero’s journey. Diary 2017-2020
3. Big Mistress – confessions, columns and sex advice from the other woman
Blote Kont- (Dutch)
5. ALL THE THINGS – unpublished work 2010 – 2020

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