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Dating & The Single Grrl:
The Batman conundrum...
I wondered earlier this year why the only man who was able to give me that swooping stomach feeling was Batman. Not Christian Bale as Batman, but the character Batman. Why was he so sexy to me? It did have to do with the fact that he was put through the wringer but still fell to the floor and did pushups, with bruises all over his body, before downing a glass of orange juice. And maybe it was his gruff voice. Spiderman had neither of these. But then I started to wonder why women are so often taken by the tall, dark, superhero persona. The masked man is always portrayed as a tortured soul, mysterious yet always able to save a woman (no matter how strong) in distress (emotional or otherwise). The superhero gives the woman full independence in her life, but then boldly sweeps in with hard-bodied masculinity worthy of a Harlequin novel. And, none of this is done in a way that sexually objectifies either the sensual superhero or damsel in distress – it’s just two people, charged up for each other, coming together for a breathless encounter (emotional or otherwise). And then it’s over. And it’s wonderful.I often liken the ex to Batman. The man who calls just when you think he’s dropped off the face of the earth (or fallen too far into his new girlfriend, new job, new life). The man who drops by, at odd hours, brings food, asks how you are. The man who spends just enough time with you to remind you how special you are, and tells you how much he misses you. Then, he’s gone again, with a dramatic wave of his huge black cape, speeding away silently into the night.
Or, in the case of my ex, who is neither all that mysterious nor hard-bodied, this consists of dropping me off and then sitting at the traffic light at the corner of my building for ten minutes, getting annoyed because his car is manual, and gear-shifting in unmoving traffic is annoying.
At least his car is black.
He has to cut his hair. Soon he won’t need a cape, because his hair will do the trick. Thus far it has served to perfectly shield his new girlfriend from view every time I encounter them together. This is not an exaggeration – to this day I have never seen her full face, though I’ve seen them together multiple times because we have mutual friends.
There’s that ex-boyfriend who we’ve all had a tumultuous, dramatic, romantic relationship with, and we still think of him, even now. Sometimes he’s the first great love, or maybe the longest, most comfortable relationship, or even a chance encounter that happened because the planets collided. Though the feelings have passed, or are maybe just shelved or suppressed, there is still something about him that makes you so angry, or sad, and always leaves you feeling a little bit wistful after seeing him. He does just enough to stir things up without ever promising anymore than just that. This is exactly the reason that we can’t completely cleanse ourselves of this ex. We were tangled up once, and though we did finally manage to untangle ourselves, we are never quite free of one another – whether it’s intentional or not. We secretly love everything about the clandestine, frustrating still-shared connection. Occasionally we feel the need to remind ourselves that we are real, and perhaps we were at our most real during those moments we spent together.
This ex is an enigma – two personalities that make you wonder how they can possibly co-exist. Around others, he’s Bruce Wayne – calm, cool, aloof. And appearing out of the mysterious darkness, he’s Batman when it’s just you and him – he knows you, exactly how you feel, and what you want.
The moral of this story is that I have decided to stop believing in superheroes to rescue me. More than that, I have decided to stop believing that erratic visits from a superhero mean that we are going to fly away together.
In fact, life will go on as it did for Batman and his leading lady, Spiderman and Mary Jane, or for Superman and Lois Lane. Even K-K-K-Katie and Hubbell in The Way We Were (come on, Robert Redford was of superhero standard in the 70’s). At this point, there’s no false hope. I’m not going to be as naïve or arrogant to say that our story, or anyone else’s who’s been in a similar situation, is as simple, romantic or classic as a superhero love story. Nothing huge – like saving the world – is preventing us from being together. He’s not trying to protect me; I’m not pledging to unabashedly love him even with knowledge of his secret life.
The leading ladies got smart, and so did I. Though at first I was taken by the idea that “something” would always exist between my superhero and me, I realized that despite certain feelings (that do seem to waver), we are not getting back together. We don’t even want to date each other. But somehow we gravitate towards each other in times of apprehension, stress, social misfortune, or just general unrest, and there’s an ease in our interaction that can’t be found elsewhere – it’s different than with the greatest of friends or the wittiest of banterers. There’s a certain solace in this, like when Batman unloads his demons on his lady because he thinks she’s the only one who can handle them, or maybe when he keeps his secrets safe and tucked away, regardless of whether or not they’re able to actually maintain a relationship.
There is nothing that can be done but to just be – not the “half” to a unique whole that is only formed when he’s around; not the girl who was left behind; and definitely not the girl who was left wondering what went wrong who spends all her time analyzing every shared word in each encounter. Just be – with the understanding that the “something” isn’t “nothing.” It’s not all love, it’s not purely friendship. Instead, it’s a weird combination of the two that only seems to exist in the movies. In fact, it’s probably the greatest non-relationship that could continue to exist between two people.
Let’s face it, a superhero makes for good fantasy material, but in reality, I’ve realized I have to wear my own armour, no matter how heavy it may get. ¤ Dani