Relationship with a Box

Roughly six weeks ago, Mr. Wisdom was heading out my door and said, “Okay, I’m going back into my box.”  It appears to be an accurate description of the way Mr. Wisdom has structured his life.  All his attention and energy are focused on what’s in the box – primarily his family and his job.  He has a personal creative project or two that he can work on when he’s in the box since it’s the kind of work you can do sitting around an airport. 

Being outside the box is a drag, especially when he doesn’t respond to an email I’ve sent about something exciting like my new classroom.  Some people might quit sending emails, but when he’s on the road, Mr. Wisdom works 12 hour days as part of a four person film crew.  He's surrounded, and he's the boss which leaves little time for notes about birthday spankings.  Or he’s dealing with the almost-ex wife, or he’s in the movies with his kid.  None of these situations are conducive to responding to notes about spanking.  They aren’t conducive to chummy little phone calls either, which is why I never call him. 

When you know somebody is swamped and can’t talk, it seems rude, intrusive and overtly demanding to call.  It seems more respectful and polite to send an email because they are easy to put aside until a more convenient time.  I suspect my emails to Mr. Wisdom go straight into their own folder where they wait patiently for his attention.  I don’t mind being on the back burner, as it were, but I’m beginning to feel like I’m in the junk drawer with all the other things that he doesn’t know what to do with but doesn't want to throw out.  I’m delighted I haven’t been put out with the recycling – but it suggests that the note I sent about my birthday went straight to the folder, as did the three subsequent emails where I processed the situation, and he didn’t look at a single one until the whole situation was virtually resolved. Even though it's annoying, on some level, it seems like genius on his part.

I suppose some people would still quit sending emails, and maybe if I hadn’t heard from him at all, I would too since we can hope I am as astute as Pavlov’s Dog.  Mr. Wisdom responds just enough and randomly enough so that I haven’t been able to discern a pattern.  It’s more like on Star Trek when there's some unexplained cosmic interference fucking up communications. Until the trouble is resolved, Uhura has to keep sending messages on all frequencies in all known languages.

I am a tenacious woman and like Mr. Wisdom better than any man who has crossed my radar in years and years and years.  Besides, the last time we were together, it was clear that he’d read my notes because he referenced a couple.  He particularly wanted to talk about a book I read because I remembered that he’d said it was the first reading assignment he gave to his writing classes back when he used to teach at NYU – Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.  During that discussion, it was also clear that he wanted me to read another book on his syllabus, Car by Harry Crews.  When a college teacher gives you a reading assignment, you know he likes to talk to you about books.  Being with a man whose pillow talk involves literature is why he remains my favorite romantic interest. 

Further, I have to acknowledge that something about being involved with a box is working for me or I wouldn’t be doing it.  The thing I like about all this distance is that it gives me the time and space to arrive at an understanding of my own Self.  For example, when Mr. Wisdom originally concluded that he could not manage a developing relationship, the shit storm of his divorce and travel-heavy schedule – I had a hard time with it.  Most of my difficulty, though, had to do with (1) the hit to my Ego and (2) my own separation anxiety.  Once I got that sorted out, I realized that the pertinent issue had nothing to do with Mr. Wisdom per se, since I needed to get my own shit together around attachment and separation regardless of whether I ever saw Mr. Wisdom again or not.

I’ve been wanting a relationship, of course, or I wouldn’t have gone on Match dot com in the first place.  But in my view, a relationship with another person can only be as rewarding as a person’s relationship with Self.  Ergo: relationship with Self has been my focus.   Relating to a box forces you to understand exactly what you’re looking for and where you may, or may not, be able to find it.  Since I have been seeking a stronger relationship with Self – the box thing was all good.  A box is right up there with a brick wall, and in both cases, there is no mirror.  You have to make an effort to look at your own self.

Another benefit is that Mr. Wisdom has successfully contained his own shit in that box of his.  I appreciate and respect that because I have enough shit of my own.  More importantly, however, Mr. Wisdom’s ego has never once needed active massaging.  I have had enough of feeding the egos of men to last me a life time.  It occurs to me that may be one of the best things about Mr. Wisdom.  He can take care of his own ego needs.  While I certainly hope he finds it gratifying that there is a woman in relentless pursuit, he doesn’t deliberately yank my chain to make sure I stay there.  The Narcissist was very adept at manipulating people to feed his ego, like Audrey II in Little Shop of Horrors.  Double Wide used women like that too, although there was an element of the sex addict about Double Wide.  Adult children of Holocaust survivors come with their own peculiar set of issues.

I have to say that Buzz Kill never needed me to feed his ego – at least not more than any of us ever need someone in that capacity from time to time.  I suspect he gets plenty of ego stoking while he’s doing the mini-Iron Man thing all trussed up in spandex.  He’s out riding bikes in Colorado for 12 days with a friend from college.  Another hard core, physical challenge kind of fellow.  I hope they’re having fun in some extreme, manly way.  When you consider that Buzz Kill has installed his mother, Vagina Dentata, in the old folks home and paid me off after all these years in the very same summer, I think the fellow is allowed a Happy Dance or two. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Wisdom responded to a text I sent the other night asking if we could get together soon.  As it happens, I was in the process of editing a kiss off letter to him when his response arrived, showing once again that the man has precision timing. After some consideration, though, I decided to withdraw my request for a date.  I would be glad to see Mr. Wisdom, but at the end of the day, I'd prefer to be with a man who acknowledges me, even when he's busy.  I get it that Mr. Wisdom has no room in his box for me, and I sure don't want to be in a box with a shit storm.  It's unpleasant for all concerned.  His consistent lack of response is pretty unpleasant too.

On the Home Front, things are looking up.  The seller secured a real estate attorney, so we'll start shuffling the paperwork around this week AND the Coop Board wanted to see my divorce papers.  I expect they want to make sure that there's no way that Buzz Kill will try to commandeer the apartment, or that we're really divorced.  Plenty of people claim to be divorced and are still married - which is one of the reasons I'm not quite ready to go back on Match dot com yet.