The Helper Syndrome Kind – and Other Kinds (Rant-O-Rama)

Here’s one thing I’ve noticed again from a recent encounter with a lady – one that’s been driving me near postal-mad forever (not the lady, but the issue associated with it): People feel entitled to give advice as soon as you open up to them, sharing some of the trials and tribulations a person like me has been going through. That – in and of itsself – is unnerving enough. It’s actually kind of disrespectful, too. But it becomes plain abuse and discriminating behaviour when they go ahead and incapacitate you based on their own beliefs that a person in need always and per default suffers from poor judgement as to how they can find healing – or personal improvement or whatever else the hell it is they were aspiring to. Out-fucking-rageous! They barely navigate their own twisted lives, screwed up/abusive relationships, ungrateful kids, financial issues and whatnot – and have the nerve to feel entitled as to how to best “fix” your problems? .. the fuck?!

In particular – and sorry for generalizing, ladies – I have experienced this behaviour with women. Probably a poor idea of mine to open up, expose myself and become vulnerable in the first place, as a) romantic relationships still seem largely governed by primordial concepts contrary to what we’re led to believe after Womens’ Rights etc. and b) as I sadly had to also experience that the women I met so far and had relationships with weren’t really equipped to handle a man showing emotions (and no, I don’t refer to the “sobbing in public” kinda guy. I just mean feeling, sharing, acting on and eventually talking about real emotions). Have I only dated “bimbettes” with the IQ of a Walmart price tag? I don’t think so. Have I only gone for “looks” or “money” or other superficial concepts? Hell to the no! Have I subconcsiously always looked for and “attracted” the helping kind? Aaaah!!! That’s entirely possible. And it is and was a bad idea. I eventually get that after some 25 failed relationships including one marriage and divorce. (“Fast learner” is probably not exactly a title I stand a chance to win in this lifetime…).

OK. But even after I’ve become aware of this and did my best not to fall into that trap again: Where in the world is that tattoo stamped on my forehead that reads “Night Listener – free of charge, help yourself to it”? Do I resemble the Statue of Liberty in some way,” bring me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”? Is that the deal? I didn’t think so! Yet time and again they – yup, ladies, sorry, generalizing again – feel invited to share their lifestory with me, their marriage or relationship problems, trouble with money and recently – ha! That beats ’em all – problems at a construction site! That’s right! Someone felt they needed to let me in on their strife with building a school of some kind and all of what’s going on there, including the no-good husband cheating behind her back, but being involved in the goddamn thing and still sharing a roof? Give me a fucking break!!!

I guess, I’ve never learnt what healthy boundaries where, let alone exert them. I swear to motherfucking God Mother: This was the last fucking time!!!! (And hell, yeah, I’ll stay single for good! I’m too broken to ever make that shit going to work. I’m done here, thank you. *drops mic*)

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