Events in my life have prompted me to ponder the age-old question: Can people change? And more importantly, should you count on it?
I've always thought (mostly in the background but occasionally in the perceptive forefront of my mind) that what you see is what you get with most people, so you shouldn't expect much change (aside from the superficial points of clothing, style, art/music, etc, in which case horzions can be broadened), lest you become very disappointed.
Obviously, this theory is very rarely applied when in the process of selecting a potential boyfriend. I am currently standing on the sidelines watching friends and even the daughters of my friends whining and complaining about their boyfrieds and in some circumstances, baby daddy. (eeekkk... why has it gotten so chick to have a worthless "baby daddy" now?) It's ridiculous. Buy a Coach bag if you want something expensive to lug around on your shoulder. It doesn't cry and stays small and cute forever!
But anyhoo... ladies, let me break it down for you from someone who has been there/ done that. This is how you look, from someoneolder wiser:
"Hi I'm a fixer. I will be everything you need me to be and more and I will fix your Wounded-Bird-Boy soul. Because I am the only one that can save you. And I will. Just like in the movies. And although I know scores of other girls have tried, I will be the one who triumphs, and we will live happily ever after."
Right. That never works. Here's what actually happens, or some variation
Your eyes meet across a crowded party/bar/club/soup-kitchen-where-you-are-volunteering-and-he-is-eating. He looks troubled/funny/smart. You love that. He looks brooding/dreamy/sarcastic. You love that too. He ditches whatever skank is currently making your mistake and comes toward you. You love his cocky (and COKEy, let's not be naive) but shy attitude. He has you at "'Sup."
You are a free spirit, just like him. Suddenly, corporate America, bills, family, and other responsibilities cease to exist. There is no one else in the world like the two of you. You are the wild children, the Pied Pipers of talented (enter in whatever artistic medium he's currently pursuing at this minute) leading the other aspiring artists/musicians/rappers/actors/comedians/writers and you'll change the world, without compromising any of your lofty but unresearched and unsupported ideals. Or making any money.
Occasionally, Wounded-Bird-Boy will fall into the depths of dispair, where life isn't worth living anymore and he cannot bring himself to pick up a guitar/paintbrush/pencil/restaurant-check. But he sure can pick up that bong/mirror/beer. You will do everything you can to bring him out of his funk. Shopping sprees (with your debit card, no less), idealistic promises focusing on his goals (Goals? Yeah, you used to have those. Now your goals are his goals!), gifts you can't afford, reassurances that you will not insist he get counseling/a-real-job/a-clue/a-life/-the-eff-out.
Eventually, when you cannot feign interest in his ridiculous video-games/friends/quasi-career/level-of-poverty/complete-disinterest-in-you anymore, you'll wake up and look around your probably small and untidy apartment and wonder what happened to the good old days when the lovin was great and you were heady with desire for Wounded-Bird-Boy, when his talent impressed you, when the brooding/sarcasm/deeply-concealed-intelligence was enough.
You'll wish for the early days when you'd make plans and promises to each other, the days when he knew he had to say amazing things to keep you, the days he cared about your feelings and made you feel special, like you were the one he chose out of the crowd because you dazzled him, not the one he knew would care for him the best.
He has always known what you just realized. He knows about smoke and mirrors. He's done this before. He knows how to get you and how to keep you. At least for awhile. He also knows when to let go, because he probably has a #2 (probably not the best idea to flatter yourself thinking you were #1, but we'll go with it) waiting in the wings. So he tells you he can't hold you back any longer, and he wants more for you than what he can give. And he sends you packing (emotionally, that is) with some rockin' "goodbye, but lets still be friends cause I really do care about you" talk. And in some unfortunate circumstances, a baby (or two) on your hip.
And when your heart shuts the door and stands on the stoop, you think "Yeah, I'd so do that again."
So you date a few more just like him. But you are a little bit wiser, and are just along for the ride, cuz you knew he wasn't going to change. His type never do.
My point is this: I think, on some level, people can change, but they have to really want to, and BEYOND THAT, they have to know what about them needs to. And most people just can't see it.
But if you insist on "fixing him", YOU will be the one that changes. And not usually for the better.
I've always thought (mostly in the background but occasionally in the perceptive forefront of my mind) that what you see is what you get with most people, so you shouldn't expect much change (aside from the superficial points of clothing, style, art/music, etc, in which case horzions can be broadened), lest you become very disappointed.
Obviously, this theory is very rarely applied when in the process of selecting a potential boyfriend. I am currently standing on the sidelines watching friends and even the daughters of my friends whining and complaining about their boyfrieds and in some circumstances, baby daddy. (eeekkk... why has it gotten so chick to have a worthless "baby daddy" now?) It's ridiculous. Buy a Coach bag if you want something expensive to lug around on your shoulder. It doesn't cry and stays small and cute forever!
But anyhoo... ladies, let me break it down for you from someone who has been there/ done that. This is how you look, from someone
"Hi I'm a fixer. I will be everything you need me to be and more and I will fix your Wounded-Bird-Boy soul. Because I am the only one that can save you. And I will. Just like in the movies. And although I know scores of other girls have tried, I will be the one who triumphs, and we will live happily ever after."
Right. That never works. Here's what actually happens, or some variation
Your eyes meet across a crowded party/bar/club/soup-kitchen-where-you-are-volunteering-and-he-is-eating. He looks troubled/funny/smart. You love that. He looks brooding/dreamy/sarcastic. You love that too. He ditches whatever skank is currently making your mistake and comes toward you. You love his cocky (and COKEy, let's not be naive) but shy attitude. He has you at "'Sup."
You are a free spirit, just like him. Suddenly, corporate America, bills, family, and other responsibilities cease to exist. There is no one else in the world like the two of you. You are the wild children, the Pied Pipers of talented (enter in whatever artistic medium he's currently pursuing at this minute) leading the other aspiring artists/musicians/rappers/actors/comedians/writers and you'll change the world, without compromising any of your lofty but unresearched and unsupported ideals. Or making any money.
Occasionally, Wounded-Bird-Boy will fall into the depths of dispair, where life isn't worth living anymore and he cannot bring himself to pick up a guitar/paintbrush/pencil/restaurant-check. But he sure can pick up that bong/mirror/beer. You will do everything you can to bring him out of his funk. Shopping sprees (with your debit card, no less), idealistic promises focusing on his goals (Goals? Yeah, you used to have those. Now your goals are his goals!), gifts you can't afford, reassurances that you will not insist he get counseling/a-real-job/a-clue/a-life/-the-eff-out.
Eventually, when you cannot feign interest in his ridiculous video-games/friends/quasi-career/level-of-poverty/complete-disinterest-in-you anymore, you'll wake up and look around your probably small and untidy apartment and wonder what happened to the good old days when the lovin was great and you were heady with desire for Wounded-Bird-Boy, when his talent impressed you, when the brooding/sarcasm/deeply-concealed-intelligence was enough.
You'll wish for the early days when you'd make plans and promises to each other, the days when he knew he had to say amazing things to keep you, the days he cared about your feelings and made you feel special, like you were the one he chose out of the crowd because you dazzled him, not the one he knew would care for him the best.
He has always known what you just realized. He knows about smoke and mirrors. He's done this before. He knows how to get you and how to keep you. At least for awhile. He also knows when to let go, because he probably has a #2 (probably not the best idea to flatter yourself thinking you were #1, but we'll go with it) waiting in the wings. So he tells you he can't hold you back any longer, and he wants more for you than what he can give. And he sends you packing (emotionally, that is) with some rockin' "goodbye, but lets still be friends cause I really do care about you" talk. And in some unfortunate circumstances, a baby (or two) on your hip.
And when your heart shuts the door and stands on the stoop, you think "Yeah, I'd so do that again."
So you date a few more just like him. But you are a little bit wiser, and are just along for the ride, cuz you knew he wasn't going to change. His type never do.
My point is this: I think, on some level, people can change, but they have to really want to, and BEYOND THAT, they have to know what about them needs to. And most people just can't see it.
But if you insist on "fixing him", YOU will be the one that changes. And not usually for the better.
So when it comes to relationships, save your money for a Move-In Ready As Is, rather than a Fixer-Upper. It might take some compromise, but at least you'll know what you're getting.
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