The Battlefield

Totally one to toot my own horn when necessary, I must say that I will, can and have won the battle of willpower in the love war many of times. Many. Of. Times. It’s actually hard to imagine losing what when you’re series of victories have continually nourished your self-confidence allowing it to grow with efflorescence.

I recently had a bit of a spat with an ex something-or-another who inquired as to my reluctance to have a “closure” talk. “Well, first of all,” I told him, “closure talks are for boyfriends and girlfriends.” (In case he missed that, sans distinct exclusivity conversation, I am not your girlfriend.) Now this particular guy had this fun little game he liked to play that consisted of waiting an abnormally long time to reply to text or email – even when trying to organize plans – until I (or whomever else he was playing against with would get impatient and text again. On the second time, he would reply. You know this game. It’s utterly annoying. Playing text tango wasn’t too high on my wish list; but I gave in and went along with his ego-centric communication regime. As soon as we got in a solid routine (my two text to his one), he became bored and changed it all together. Then our communication was so sporadic and utterly schizophrenic, I thought to stab myself in the eye with something very sharp…until I realized that getting myself in a tizzy meant I was losing. And I do not like losing.
So I forgot to text him back a few times and maybe he called me but I was probably working or watching the game. Really I was probably on a date, but nonetheless could not be disturbed by the barrage of desperate text messages and curious emails. Maybe the messages were just pushed down to the end of the SMS queue that I forgot he ever sent them. I honestly cannot remember.

In any case, what started as nod to my incomparable willpower turned into true forgetfulness. There was no need to get the claws out; oh but he did. Mistake uno. because regardless of said beau’s social rank, educational degrees, chiseled pectoral muscles, etc., he cannot rival my confidence. In matters of the heart, confidence trumps everything else. While he tried to create superficial confidence by receiving two texts to his one text, I just reached down inside. True self-esteem, the kind that comes from within, doesn’t need SMS fodder. It probably doesn’t even to gloat easy wins (like I’m doing now).

They say which ever party has less money, is better looking, more apathetic, and/or smarter usually wins. But I think the person who makes a choice – regardless of their investment – and feels confident in that decision, wins.  I don’t have to pretend I didn’t care. Oh I talked about it for hours, but in the end, I decided to let go. And I won. Stick to your guns.
Emma Dinzebach

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Posted by Emma Dinzebach at 12:00 AM
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