The (stupid) games we play


Lying on the bed, resting, reading, waiting for the time to go, I am struck by the thought that the games we play with others, and our partners in particular, are decidedly stupid.

I wonder what this world would be like without these games, without the subterfuge, with honesty and forthrightness.  Sure, it may hurt sometimes but wouldn’t it be so much better?

What if we all said exactly how we felt?  If we were pissed off by some comment someone made to us, what would it really matter if we told them that, actually, we didn’t appreciate the comment?  If someone made us really happy with something they said or did, rather than just saying ‘thank you’ it would be so much nicer to be more effusive and tell them that they have made us happy.

Instead, we pussyfoot around, saying less than we mean or cloaking it in words that say nothing (or, worse, the opposite).

Oh, and before you start on me, yes, I do the same.  In fact, a friend recently told me that my blog was ‘oblique’.  See, there’s the thing – I didn’t think it was.  Well, again, that’s not entirely true.  Some time ago, when some of my readers were unsure of, for instance, whether I was a woman or a man, I didn’t think it was oblique just that I had been rather clever in disguising it – not that it was important one way or another and, actually, I became rather smug about it, which, when I look back was rather snobbish on my part and for which I am not proud.

The problem, I find with this blog is that, although I want to tell the ‘whole truth and nothing but’, I find it difficult when many people I know read it.  It is, of course, one of the beauties of having an anonymous blog – but, having started one of those, I find that it is hard to write, since I can mention no names or places or give any indication of anything that might find people tracking it down.  So, in itself, it is not satisfying enough – using it for some details that, if I’m honest, I am just too scared to put here.

And, the fact that I am too scared I also find unsatisfying and so, I think anyway, my writing remains oblique – satisfying sometimes and dissatisfying at other times.

Not long after V & I split, for some reason that I do not recall, we went for a Chinese during which I got rather drunk.  I think (but was not sober enough to remember all the details), I told him the truth.  The truth of the last couple of years and what harm had been done and, therefore, why we were here, at this point, sitting in a Chinese restaurant, apart and estranged.  I don’t think he had realised.  It made me sad that he didn’t realise and now I think it is sadder that I wasn’t more open with him in those two years.  Perhaps, if I had have been, things would have been different?  I don’t think so, but you never know, nor will ever know.  At least it would have given him (and me) a chance.

I have posts that I have posted and then withdrawn and posts in drafts that I felt didn’t say what I wanted them to or, worse, said nothing (much like this one probably) or ones (well, one anyway) that I am too scared to post.  And still posts that were written and never put up at all!  All kept but all should really be trashed for, if I didn’t post them then, perhaps they should never be posted?

Take the last post.  All of it was true but that doesn’t make it the whole story; it doesn’t give you the true picture, the true picture being much more complicated than a simple blog post.  I mean it was a beautiful day in a pretty seaside town and we had plenty of laughs along the way – but to blog that means nothing without the side that I did blog about.  The beauty of that post is that I can explain that to Best Mate and she will understand as with her I can be more honest than most.

People usually ask if V reads this blog.  The true answer is that I don’t know for certain but think that he does not.  I’m not sure why, other than he doesn’t really read blogs at all and finds them boring, I think.  I have no problem if he did anyway, unless he took some of the things I have said and thinks that they are about him as some of them are not and, therefore, he might get the wrong impression or, like the post before, see just one side of things without the full picture.

Of all of them there is the one (not posted) that I reread often.  I wonder if it would make a difference if posted and on more than one occasion, have had the mouse poised over the publish button, swinging the cursor away with logic and, for that time, grateful that I did.  I guess I may keep that one as I like it for many other reasons.

Even posting this post is dangerous, maybe.  Or, rather, not dangerous but being too honest even by saying that I am not giving the whole picture and that the obliqueness of it all makes it difficult to decipher what is really going on in my head or in my world.

Still, I will post it anyway and, maybe, next week go through the old stuff, the drafts and so on and trash/use them/use bits of them.  It feels time to get rid of some of the trash, like a spring clean, even if this is the start of Autumn.

8 thoughts on “The (stupid) games we play

  1. Many times I was told “You said nothing”, meaning that I was silent. Sometimes “You speak too much”. Why? Because there are times when I have something to say and sometimes when I have, really, nothing to say and I am happy only because I am with someone.
    But, as always, it is not easy to understand what is the right thing to do. Because each time it is different. Sometimes I prefer the truth, sometimes not. And I know that is a lie.
    I do not write too much about my feelings (ok, I do not write at all about them) because it will expose me too much. I know that some of my friends read my blog, but I think that if I write how I really feel, the comments I’ll get (if any) would not be the ones I would like to receive. Because we all are different and the sensibility is different. Truth hurts, and anyway there could be misunderstanding, and it is not easy to explain the “whole paint”. What it is strange is that sometimes people that knows you less or superficially understands better, or gives you comments that help. But definetely, blogs are useful to express ourselves without talking to no one while we are alone in the middle of street…At least no one thinks we are crazy! Maybe…

  2. Unless, of course, really we are all crazy and therefore we all seem quite sane to each other!

    A long comment, Pietro. I don’t know but, overall, I prefer the truth, even if it does hurt.

  3. After my marriage ended, I learned, through trial and error, that relationships that take hard work have something intrinsically wrong with them. One should not try to fit one’s square peg into that round hole.

    After many fitful attempts with other people, in situations in which I worked to adapt myself to someone else, I decided I would not do anything I didn’t want to do. I now have a girlfriend of nearly two years who practically lives with me; being with her is as easy and devoid of abstruse forethought as breathing. She hates playing games.

    You’re just out of a relationship. You probably have a fair amount of pain to go through until you realize that this person with whom you have shared, whom you think you should be able to share intimate thoughts with, is not going to work out no matter how hard you try and how eloquently you present the possibility. These are almost exactly the words about my situation that I used in a support group several years ago.

    You’re going through a kind of “crazy time.” Be good to yourself. Allow yourself to make mistakes, experiment, let go painfully. And post what you want. If he can’t deal with it, well, what else is new?

  4. Thanks for the advice, Cecilieaux. I never really thought that relationships that take hard work have something intrinsically wrong with them – but I guess that is true when you actually think about it.

  5. Thanks for writing this post Andy.
    Sometimes I stop (sometimes!) and think about the same things. What if we could say exactly what we think and feel? What if we could throw out everything?
    Well, before we answer, we should try to imagine if someone else would do the same with us. Personally sometimes I get angry if the truth has been hidden from me; but for certain other things, I prefer to “live my tale” because I’m not really ready to fight with the truth (it’s a real fight sometimes, u know?!).
    But, at the end of all above, I agree with Andy: I prefer the truth even when it hurts.

  6. Hi Valeria,

    The trouble is a) knowing whether something is the truth or not and then b) deciding whether we like the truth. Not easy to pick and choose between wanting the truth but only when we like it (as the post above this one demonstrates) – and, therefore, sometimes nothing is better.

    However, if I could choose one only, I would choose the truth every time – it only hurts for a bit and at least it is the truth!

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