As previously mentioned, I am a self-confessed commitment phobe. I’m not quite as bad as I used to be, mostly thanks to my wonderful friend, and favourite life coach/matchmaker, Maria. (My current relationship was entirely orchestrated by her). However, before Maria’s staging an intervention, I made some interesting relationship choices, from which I’ve learnt a few things. These might prove useful to fellow commitment phobes, or at least provide some amusement. Probably my favourite example of a terrible life decision is ‘The Crazy One’.
At this point, I should confess, I have a bit of (okay, a lot of) a weakness for musicians. I spent a significant portion of my time travelling round Europe admiring the street musicians, and wondering why they are so much more attractive than their British equivalents.
Musicians I spotted on my travels in Krakow and Prague
Anyway, the reason I ended up dating The Crazy One was, quite simply, because he’s a really good guitarist. Initially, he used this to his advantage- probably the best date he took me on was to his favourite guitar shop, for a music lesson. I may or may not have pretended I had never played before, so he would be suitably impressed at how quickly I learnt.
However, it wasn’t long before I started noticing telltale signs of crazy. He gradually became what I can only describe as intensely obsessive. Considering that I am likely to start hyperventilating upon hearing the words ‘long term’ or ‘serious’, the wanting to be with me all the time thing was a bad move on his part. But I thought, maybe I’m overreacting, I will do the sensible thing, and just tell him how I feel- smothered. (I didn’t actually use the word smothered- I can occasionally be tactful). So this went surprisingly well, he told me he “totally understood”, and I was really quite pleased with how I’d handled the situation.
But, as we all know, actions speak louder than words. Once the crazy had been released, there was no getting it back in the box. Rather than backing off, he stepped up the intensity. There were poems (embarrassingly awful poems) narrowly avoided incidents of serenading (PDAs- not okay), and promises of long-term commitment. (As previously discussed, bad move as far as I’m concerned.)
What I think really sums up the level of crazy though, is that I had to break up with him three times. Not, as you might imagine, because we got back together, but because not once, but twice, he decided, entirely by himself, that we had some sort of deep emotional connection which meant we must be together. On all three occasions, he demonstrated that he definitely has more emotions than I do – I don’t do crying in public… That was a tad awkward.
It was at this point that I realised the musicians thing was a bad idea. Being a dancer and an English student means I tend to spend a lot of time with creative, artsy types. The problem with this is that, compared to the tortured musicians and expressive dramatists, I am relatively sane. Life lessons learnt from this: 1) As a person with trust and commitment issues, do not choose a person who is significantly less emotionally stable than you, and 2) musicians are to be admired from a distance.
Any thoughts or people watching stories to share please feel free to leave me a comment.