She’s the man

I’ve often wondered if I have a little too much testosterone for my own good. Actually, I know I have testosterone levels on the high-side thanks to my fantastically acne-prone skin and oligomenorrhea (that’s infrequent and light menstrual cycles to you and me) but I wonder if having too much of that stuff in my system does other things to me on an emotional level?

See, I’ve often felt like ‘the man’ in relationships I’ve been in. I tend to be the one who stays aloof and emotionally detached with a heavy-side of commitment phobia and I find it hard to express my feelings towards to the other person, especially face-to-face. In a strange coincidence, I’ve also tended to be the main breadwinner and I’m usually the person who has to ‘get shit done’. I also generally like to be in control and don’t trust other people to do things ‘right’ (preferring to do them myself so I know they get done the ‘right’ way).

Sounds a lot like a traditional ‘man’s role’, doesn’t it?

I was thinking about this last night as I chatted with M (yes, he’s back to being called ‘M’). We were dancing around the topic of what we should do about our living arrangements. The lease on my current place finishes on 28th August and I have to make a decision about whether to stay for a little longer or find another place.

This place is perfect for one person or a couple who don’t mind living on top of each other (probably two fantastically active people who do nothing but come home to sleep), but for an introvert who needs space and a mostly retired homebody who doesn’t have a lot of outside interests, I don’t think we’d last too long before we wanted to kill each other.

Ideally, we’d like to be living in Melbourne, but because my work is here and I’m not too keen on looking for another job in the current economic climate, we’ll be living in Perth for the foreseeable future. In terms of a place to live, I’d like a little more living space and a second bathroom (must have a bathtub!) in the CBD that’s not opposite construction, within walking distance of shops and restaurants and that we can afford.

After spending the last few weeks obsessing over the available places to rent and going to a million viewings, I’ve decided that what I’m looking for is the HOLY FUCKING GRAIL.

In an interesting twist, I may be able to continue renting this place at a lower weekly rent than I currently am and it does have two bedrooms so theoretically we could live here (until we killed each other) but I’m in cut-throat negotiations with the owner so I’ll see how that works out.

He has been saying that he would come back here September-October-ish after a slew of family & friends b’days and anniversaries are done with and I made the comment that I just wanted to get ‘our shit sorted’. He wanted to know what I meant by that. Well, he was actually fishing for me to say that I missed him and wanted him back here as soon as possible so we could get the kitten and Master show 3.0 back on the road.

He can quite easily say and has said to me on numerous occasions that he wants to be back with me as soon as possible because he loves and misses me. But me, in all my testosterone-filled beauty, just can’t say it. I do the coy, ‘You know what I mean by getting ‘our shit sorted’!’ thing and quickly change the subject back to whether I would be happy living in a flat over a dumpling shop open until 3am or the black-hole that is East Perth.

In my mind I feel like the stoic man who enjoys having an emotionally slutty woman. While I like and need to be told constantly that I’m loved and receive positive affirmations about everything from my wardrobe choices to my cooking skills, I find giving the same expressions of love or affirmations to be akin to having teeth pulled.

Maybe I need to start a new meme #likeaman



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