Why They Dont Call

Written by REVSCRJ

Our prestigious editor in chief has asked me to put an article together on why-guys-don't-call-back from the guy's side of the argument. The funny is that I am being asked to speak for 49.6% of the Human Race when not only do I find myself estranged from all but a dozen or so of them. I often find myself saying "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" regarding behaviour... but I suppose I say "Well, that's just fucking typical" quite a bit as well..

So I am sitting here in front of the computer staring at the screen thinking things like:

"Because they have the attention spans of a fruit fly."

"If tits aren't present they only have white noise going on in their skulls."

And "Seven to ten numbers in a row are a lot to realistically ask one of them to remember."

I think "Mighty feminist, er, that is 'sexist' sounding..." but know that really I mean women are *just as capable* of intelligent behaviour as the men, the topic is only addressing the men however.

I decide to start off with what I know about people in general... As a safe bet, a rule-of-thumb: people are self possessed, process data slowly, forget quickly, are easily addicted, discard knowledge not used daily, would rather be told an answer than come to a conclusion, rarely know truly what they believe, equate effort with pain and pain with 'bad.' They are easily frightened (especially by change), violently resent that which makes them uncomfortable, would rather live a lie than to risk being judged harshly by their peers, are mind bogglingly lazy and will savagely destroy anything unfamiliar (unless its inside themselves, in which case they will attempt to ignore it out of existence).

If you understand these traits you can pretty well figure out most inexplicable fucked up behaviors on the part of the average person... I trail off there... The train of thought quickly wanders into how much of a prick I am ageing into and how it really doesn't bother me at all... I have a sudden suspicion that Leandro, knowing that my bitterness has only gotten more acidic, asked me specifically for that reason to write a piece around one of his ex's writings in hopes that I would shred it to a fine confetti-like mulch. It passes quickly. I figure he'd ask me to do just that if that was what he wanted, I am just wasting time avoiding writing... back to more lists...

Why don't guys call back the women they were so outwardly sweet on 'the other day'? God forbid I should speak for all guys, but I will make some guesses:

  1. He got laid. Objective completed. The sex was mediocre or bad. Why call back, when there are better/other mountains to climb? Notch marked on bedpost, end of story.

  2. He got laid. Objective completed. The sex was good or great. Like any intelligent person would do after shooting heroine for the first time to discover they like it so much that they could really see doing it every day, he made a vow to never do it again. It's the rare ex-alcoholic that can hang out in a bar.

  3. He didn't get laid, that's what he wanted, he tried really hard- lied through his teeth most of the night, pretended to care about all of her anecdotes and observation, and eventually came to the conclusion that 'this piece of ass is not worth this much effort' and gave up. Likely this happened during the "we were hitting it off so well" phase but, being very concerned about how he appears to people, he continued with the facade till the end of the eve rather than be honest and revealed as a bastard thus harming his reputation with her girlfriends, whom she will invariably tell about him.

  4. He didn't get laid, that was what he wanted, thus in an effort to potentially get laid in the future he left the potentials open and feeling very positive should he want to get back with her sometime. No need to burn a bridge when you might want to get up on in at a later date. Shortly thereafter came across someone better/easier/else and promptly forgot about the previous woman.

  5. Because of the basically fucked up game-oriented nature of human mating rituals he:

    1. became choked with self-doubt/loathing and gave up

    2. had a sudden fear-of-commitment burst (a burst because he cannot see his own being well enough to know its fundamental processes) either because of something she did/said, something that he suspects she will do/say or something that someone unrelated did/said in a previous relationship that he is relating to this one, which made him give up.

    3. has a basic pessimistic belief that love will never work out so enthusiasm petered out and he gave up.

  6. He did not put enough effort into remembering what lies he told her, either because he:

    1. misjudged her gullibility and was coasting that night of 'connection' therefore does not know what identity to use with her clearly enough to avoid having it collapse under scrutiny- better, he thinks, to just give up.

    2. has some shadow wraith of a conscience that occasionally sabotages his 'game' for the good of others, so with a hiss he skulks off cursing himself and gave up. Or

    3. is so confused by the mating game's rules, compounded with a conditioned poor self image, that the lieing is habitual but distasteful causing a vicious loop of 'scamming' and 'fleeing'- it is in everyone's best interest that he gives up.

Or:

  1. At some point he started to loathe her. 'Loathe' due to a lack of even the most surface self-awareness coupled with a deep cowardice and the ability to avoid thinking thoughts that are in any way uncomfortable he let a basic 'irritation' or 'annoyance' fester like a dark ages flesh wound until an emotional gangrene had set in and the limb had to be sawed off when ultimately a little basic 1st aid early on would have solved the whole thing.

At this point I pause and reread. "Damnit Sean, does your self-righteousness never end?" I say to the screen. It silently stares back. "Yeah, you're right. I should be more specific, more personal." I reply while silently thankful that only my schizophrenic downstairs neighbour hears these conversations.

So here is a few reasons I haven't called in the past:

  1. A sudden transformation in woman occurred when the dating crossed some invisible line in the emotional sand for her. She became clingy and tick-like in her need to suck both my time and emotional support. Where once being with her was respite, it became more like being buried alive. Color me gone like a bat out of hell.

  2. I discovered I really was only attracted to the novelty/concept of her and not her at all. Roll up the psyche's newspaper and SMACK "NO! BAD REV! BAD!"

  3. Something very integral to her personality, I discovered, was totally repulsive to me. Repulsive enough that I couldn't live with it and if I asked her to change, and she did, I wouldn't respect her, and she would likely resent me for it eventually or the relationship would turn master-slave- neither of which hold any attraction for me. I didn't even glance back.

  4. The image I had of her and the reality of her were miles apart. Ooops, lets just pretend this never happened, shall we?

    No?

    Okay, then I will.

  5. I realize that I only like her company in very small doses, which had been exceeded. That kind of thing can poison you on a person all of the sudden. "Look over there!" bolt opposite direction.

  6. Being neurotically solitary and obsessively artistic I need a lot time apart from everyone, including her. This made her to think we were *growing apart* thus prompting her to desperately try and get more 'quality time' out of me for the good of the relationship which caused me to reflexively need more of a volume of time away from her [repeat like feedback loop until:] Eventually I simply thought "WTF?!" and got all my time away from her. Freedom, like the feeling of a shower after weeks without one.

  7. I forgot her number and she never called back. Later, months later, I found out that she was not wanting to appear the 'weaker' of us by calling me and thus giving me so nebulous 'advantage' in the relationship. Upon hearing that logic I felt a deep gratitude for the pot I smoked in my youth that contributed to the short term memory loss that saved me from her games. Whole being "Whew"!

  8. She had another personality that she reserved for lovers, which was not the one displayed during friend/courtship. So the person I fell in love with disappeared only to be replaced with a 'familiar' stranger whom I found that I did not love. Quiet mourning for the death of a person I loved who was only a facade top to begin with.

  9. I confused kinship with love and proceeded to destroy that kinship by trying to deepen it. I cut my losses.

Or:

  1. Because she was so intoxicating to be around, so beautiful and fascinating I found myself needing her- craving her presence like the rise of hunger or want of sleep--such to the point that it caused me real pain when away from her. The only thing I could do was quit cold turkey.

Stupid?

Maybe--but I did circumvent a mountain of pain because of it.

I could go on, but the more that I do the more that I feel that aforementioned bitterness grow as I become rather repulsed by humanity and myself (yes, I view humanity and myself as two different subjects, don't you?). If I go on any more I might start getting really ugly. Well Leandro, writing this has killed any enthusiasm for romance I might have had for oooh probably the next few months, not to mention chances I might have with any woman who might stumble upon this piece.

Woe is me.

Bhwahaha... it just occurred to me that due to that affect, I will likely be happier in the long run! Bwhaha!

People suck.

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