I need a new start, not have my failed love life recycled for me! (Poem)

By Stanley Collymore

You audaciously approached me and confidently introduced yourself

to me, after which you sportingly and interestingly spoke to me, a

conversation in which quite engagingly you told me, while in

the process dexterously persuading me with all the prowess

that you could muster to listen to every word of what you

were appealingly saying to me, and noticeably doing so

with all the composure, indisputable conviction, and

the unfettered sophistication of an unquestionably cultured and

humorous gentleman who strikingly in elucidation but even

so delightfully, calmly and most decisively, knew with a

perceptibly undiminished intelligibility and unbridled

certainty what he was distinctly after. Then ensued

to totally and uninhibitedly readily convince me

that from the very start – in effect the precise

moment that you first saw me, how you’d

become beguilingly besotted with me.

And consequently if how you felt about me was the undoubted

stirrings of love for me, then quite unreservedly, as well as

unapologetically, your unmitigated plea relative to how

exactly you both emotionally and romantically cared

for me was, you additionally frankly stated, most

emphatically simply a combined situation, in

logical terms, of your being positively but

also shamelessly guilty of having deeply

and fervently fallen in love with me.

However, secretly on the rebound from a

rather nasty, malevolently controlling,

one-sidedly giving – you’ve guessed

it absolutely correctly that it was

exclusively me doing all the

giving in that marital relationship – an

especially psychologically unrewarding, most

damaging emotionally and an unfalteringly

subjected to serially adulterous, and a

pernicious nightmare of a marriage

that I eventually summoned up

what little courage I had left

to finally free myself from

a domineering brute of

a husband via taking

the pragmatic step

which previously

I ought to have

straightaway

engaged on,

and simply

divorced

this man.

And on having achieved that, my undoubted lack of

self-confidence fastened to my perceived, deeply

embedded and an intrinsically, socially fearful

embarrassment of my being a failure as a

wife that I firmly construed as being all

my fault, and which previously and

collectively had cowardly precluded me from

lawfully embarking on what quite naturally

and understandably should unequivocally

have been an entirely understandable,

feasible and a reasonable course of

action level-headedly filing for a

divorce from this monster of a

man that I’d voluntarily and

fondly married, somewhat

regrettably for me I can

only say hadn’t earlier

and quite regrettably

didn’t occur to me.

However, with that now done and notwithstanding

the evident and unaccustomed to situation of me

being a woman who was now completely as it

happened on my own, and to whom all this

was pragmatically something of a rather

worrying innovation for me, I was all

the same quite persevering, as I did

everything physically achievable

in my power to reassure myself

of this, that I was at last free

and consequently entirely at liberty to do what I

convincingly and honestly regarded was best

both for me and my future. And although I

was likewise completely aware of what a

testing undertaking it would obviously

be to lastingly bury the past, totally

forget what I’d petrifyingly and

improperly allowed myself to

occur to me, while insanely

and lastingly discarding

my irrefutably aimless

but specified role, in

name only I readily

confess, as a wife

although luckily,

and thank God

not as a Mum,

and accordingly having mercifully

escaped from those absolutely

depressing aforementioned

circumstances reasonably

sensibly and with luck

confidently move on

surely with my life.

This is my earnest ambition and, in effect, what I’d

genuinely like for things in their fullest fruition

but most specifically in respect of myself to

be, although realistically the subsequent

outcome, I’m fully aware, could very

well be a wholly different scenario,

in lots of complicated and even

somewhat perplexing ways,

from what optimistically in my steadfast hopes

and honest aspirations I would certainly and

undoubtedly quite prefer for the eventual

end result to be. Yet here you evidently

are, and basically something which I

mustn’t opportunely overlook nor

casually forget, a total stranger

to me and declaring the kind

of absorbing things that my

motivated heart truthfully

wants to hear but on the

contrary my distinctly

wary head, however,

is a lot cagier about?

And in this unclear

process robustly

throwing, I can

genuinely say,

my emotional

balance into

a condition

emotional

disarray.

So how then am I supposed to honestly know much less

so clear-headedly, correctly and indisputably deduce

with any absolute certainty that’s obviously and

understandably triggered and then spurred on

by the provocateurs of my preceding and

unhappy circumstances, that what you

purposefully claim you’re sincerely

saying to me isn’t fundamentally

nothing more than the selfishly

manufactured fantasy of a very vivid imagination that

is itself linked with the egotistical and deliberately

unequivocal self-aggrandizing machinations of

an entirely conniving as well as a thoroughly

seasoned Lothario, whose deftly executed

but nevertheless unsupported flattering

declarations of undying love for me

consciously have no affinity at all

with the latter or for that matter,

credibly makes any concession

for the affirmation of reality.

A state of affairs, which if not examined by me and earnestly

challenged if necessary could in all probability, and at the

least, be ruthlessly, falsely, intentionally malevolently,

totally self-servingly and, in all of this, rather injuriously

to me, be unscrupulously employed to cast me back to

the entirely untenable situation that with substantial

difficulty, but even so, I did in the end succeed in

fleeing from. An appalling situation that had previously and

inescapably for me, while I was helplessly ensnared by it,

emphatically rendered me a nobody, who was likewise

perceived as somebody who was only worthy of the

greatest disdain; therefore, the uncivil appellation

which then in reality and now in most wounding

remembrance I still inescapably bear the scars

of, and don’t mind admitting that I do resent.

So what’s it to be my unfamiliar but all the same relentless

suitor? And before you sally forth with any of your glib

answers I’d like for you this time to think carefully

about what you might wish to say to me as you

likewise bear in mind this genuine request of

mine. For I’d personally like for you to supply me with an

honest and original answer whatever that might be. For

only then can I truly satisfy myself by what you’ve

said or crucially omitted in your explanation to

me whether, as you’d like for me to believe,

this supposed adoration by you for me is

genuinely the dawning of a bright and

rather meaningful future for the two

of us together. Or conceivably the

quite gripping but meretricious

beginning of an illusionary romantic mirage

that could well prove to be immeasurably

detrimental to the emotional welfare of

a still unsure of herself and therefore

a highly vulnerable woman like me!

© Stanley V. Collymore

1 November 2017.

Author’s Comments:

Inevitably, at some time or other, most people regardless of who they are, what their racial or ethnic origins might be, irrespective of their religious, agnostic or atheistic views, what they do or don’t do for a living, their personally identifiable class, social or educational background; their ingrained political loyalties or none, the power and or influence that they wield or more like than not the manipulated sycophancy that they readily subvert themselves to, how grotesquely and graspingly rich or generally pathetically and miserably poor they happen to be; how immaturely young or seasoned old they are, what their birth or subsequently acquired nationality is, the robust state or otherwise of their health and daily life, or where in the world they either choose or are forced to live, whether they’re incarcerated in prison or at liberty to live and lead their own life as they see fit, will unhappily and even emotionally destructive for them find themselves romantically spurned by at least one and possibly even several prospective lovers and thus be very much on the dismissive end of a love that they’ve both willingly and freely offered to another person but which in return is roundly rejected as it is likewise unreciprocated.

Well, there’s a general saying that there’s no accounting for personal taste and amidst the vicissitudes of everyday life when it actually comes to factoring into the love stakes this truism couldn’t be any more applicable than it already is. And not unsurprising in this love equation is how each affected individual specifically reacts to his or her romantic rejection that in turn depends on a number of tangible as well as imperceptible factors.

For instance, there are those who’ll use the fallout from their rejection, painful as it might be, to judiciously and sensibly re-examine their personal approach to all future romantic affairs that directly involve themselves and then use the information they’ve collated and the analysis they’re arrived at as a fitting platform to more solidly construct for themselves what exactly it is that they actually want from life in terms of romance, and having ascertained that accordingly get on with it.

Others though tend to dwell inordinately on their rejection and as a consequence of that become bitter and twisted persons for the rest of their life. However, there are those who on reflexion see their rejection as a providential escape for them and gratefully thank their lucky stars for the enforced situation that at the time they were placed in. But unfortunately there will be those who finding themselves utterly despondent at what has happened to them will seek release from their perceived shame and embarrassment by killing themselves.

Then there’s another category of persons who obsessively imbued with a manifestly pronounced and delusional sense of their own egotistical importance and the perverse notion of how dare anyone do something like this to me, will malevolently set out for the remainder of their pathetic life to exact revenge. And prompts the obvious question, for me anyway, which of these categories, or none of them, do you consider yourself as belonging to? Or perhaps you’re one of those android-type creatures totally and uncaringly devoid of all emotional feelings. And the characteristically sentient and sane among us Homo sapiens will intuitively know the sorts of individuals I’m specifically referring to.

For we routinely observe them on a daily basis unwarrantedly, incompetently, corruptly and criminally occupying our supposedly democratic, but we know otherwise, parliaments, other institutionalized fora of power and influence and effectively postulating themselves not only as parliamentarians but even more seriously and worryingly so as prime ministers, cabinet ministers and even presidents of our respective countries.

Disproportionately so, it must be cogently stated, to their actual numbers in the much wider population that significantly comprises us Homo sapiens and that these alien oiks have both manipulatively and controlling foisted themselves upon, while ludicrously and risibly, if it wasn’t such a bloody serious matter, ascribing to themselves the bogus epithet of the “privileged elites”. Among whom I often wonder? And so far I’ve been unable to discern either a clear-cut or convincing answer to this idiotic conundrum of theirs!