Typecasting

I'm of the school of thought that if you treat me badly, I'll try to prove you right. Call it vindictiveness or sheer bloody-mindedness ("Want to be right? I'll make damn sure you are") or even some kind of subconscious admission that I really am as bad as you say I am. The point is, I'm capable of behaving badly, saying and doing things I regret (almost immediately, as well, which speaks to the rapidity and depth of the rage into which I descend) and even if it's for the briefest moments, tapping into a kind of unadulterated self-destructiveness.

Anyways, I've been losing the plot a little bit lately (isn't that a wonderful expression? You have to give the English mad props at their skill with language, if not for much else) and, for a change, I thought I'd brainstorm into ways of not trying to undo all the good work I've done for myself. Examples of undoing good work include sinking into depression, locking myself up at home, smoking copious amounts of reefer and indulging in dark thoughts and (where available) emotionally-unsatisfying, sexual relationships.

I've noticed a disturbing trend in my dating life; in a nutshell, I seem to have two types of women I end up being with: Type A is a strong, independent, attractive (if not always good-looking) woman with equal measures of purpose and vulnerability. While type B is submissive, detached, overweight (almost always not good-looking) with very low self-esteem and a manic desire to be overwhelmed in some way.

If I'm fine, I go for type A, when I'm not I go for type B. Whatever 'fine' means.

Type A challenges me emotionally, and I relish that. But almost always, once I've had a chance to identify their weaknesses, I lose all interest in them and struggle to relate to them on any level. Sex, never a strong connector with this type, trickles into oblivion. I often don't miss sex with them, but they often do.

Type B offers me the kind of sex I guess I really enjoy: uninhibited, dominating, slightly degrading and no-holds barred. Type B women never say no to anything and they never seem to be enjoying themselves that much. They're not bored, but they are...detached. Despite that, they initiate a lot of sex and always claim they enjoy it. When the relationship ends, they are much more likely to attempt to engineer a continuing sexual relationship with me, even if it's just on that level. I'm more likely to say yes, because the sex is good.

I like type As but I lust after type Bs; I respect type As and would likely be friends with them, while I don't have much respect for type Bs and am less likely to want anything to do with them after the relationship has died.

Now, I'm not a fool. I know that my inability to connect with type As speaks to some emotional inadequacy that I have, almost certainly a few self-esteem issues and possibly some kind of power struggle that I resent. Freud would have said I see my mother in them, and Freud might have had a point.

Likewise, I'm aware that type Bs represent some kind of perverse attempt to exorcise whatever resentments I have towards women (and there are a few though you'd be hard pressed to find a man who doesn't harbour even one) by acting out a certain level of dominant sexual relations. I enjoy it very much and it relaxes me, but it's not a positive, constructive experience and I bond with the girl, not a bit.

Obviously, I'm torn; but seeing as I get torn by far more trivial fare, this won't surprise regular readers. It's kind of chastening (possibly the worst word choice of all time) to acknowledge to yourself you have out-there sexual fantasies involving domination and light bondage, but it's got two things in common with all sexuality:

1. You can't control what you like, anymore than you can switch from being left-handed to right-handed.
2. What you really like, I mean really, is always going to be some fucked up shit. If you're honest with yourself.

Anyways, I called an old type B this week, and we're meeting up next week. It's so depressing how weak I am.