Alright. Broken picker.
Now, I don't know exactly how much I subscribe to just the 'picker' being broken. I think that is an over-compartmentalization that, while it might be flippant or 'not literal' still tends to put our mentality towards saying/thinking that "Oh, the rest of me is just fine, it's only this one specific part that needs to be worked on, and that's just when I can get to it."
I think our 'picker' is like the canary in the coal mine. When I met my ex, first off, I was 16. My picker was "Does she have tits? Does she have nice butt? Does she have a pretty face? Is she nice to me? Does she put out?"
5/5 stars, boom, soulmates. We got along well, we had a lot of the same interests, but ffs, I was 16, she was 18. We married when I was 17, she was 19. We were barely more than children.
My 'picker' wasn't broken, it just wasn't mature, just like I wasn't mature and she wasn't mature. We were still living under the umbrellas of both of our incredibly fucked up families. We were just happy to find sympathetic and enthusiastic solace in each other. That carried through for a long, long time, but it wasn't enough.
in retrospect, we were both horrible for each other. Incredibly lonely, codependent, and in essence, both of us were broken. Still are, really, seventeen years later. Not just our pickers, but us. We both started to discover, maybe subconsciously, that we couldn't give each other what we needed.
Apparently she needed multiple dicks in her mouth, in her life, and between her legs to get fulfillment. I only had one. My bad.
I needed someone honest, dedicated, and loving. She could only give me the fake, manufactured version of that. I mean, if I am not being emotional and angry and hateful/spiteful about it, if she didn't feel it, well she didn't feel it. You can't just make that shit happen; it either does or it doesn't, and if it does, it doesn't have an unlimited lifetime warranty. She handled it in a fucked up, selfish, narcissistic way, but that doesn't change the reality of how she did or did not feel.
She needed/wanted to play the field. There's nothing inherently immoral in that. What makes it immoral is the way she went about it, without being honest, open, and clear in the fact that she wanted out and getting out first.
I needed something that she couldn't give me, and she needed something that I couldn't give her.
But I digress.
Back to the picker. I know I tend to gravitate towards needy women. I always have. Every lady I spent time around that I felt a glimmer of interest in had -issues-. My first serious girlfriend was a victim of sexual and physical abuse. She needed a hero. I wanted to be that hero. I was too young to realize it, but in retrospect, it was obvious. My second serious girlfriend too. My third serious girlfriend was the victim of violent sexual assault at a party, and I went out of my way to exact revenge on the men that did it to her.
I found them and I hurt them. I was young and aggressive, already as big as a full grown man (I was fifteen, 5'10", 220 lbs, and working as a roofer and groundman for treeclimbers) and I was, at that time, what she felt she needed. Affectionate and caring and a force of directed anger and vengeance. Her picker picked what she needed at the time, despite the fact that again, in retrospect, we weren't great for each other. My picker found a girl that needed a hero, and I was more than willing to put on that cape in exchange for the affection, attention, and care I got in return. I thought it was love. I think she probably did too. It obviously didn't work out.
Now, I still have that urge, that desire to be looked up to, to be -needed-, to be that golden caped savior that swoops in and fixes everything and flies off with the damsel into the sunset to James Bond that motherfucker on a white sand beach after beating the 'bad guy.' That's what I want in my lizard brain, in my root, in my animalistic gut.
But yaknow what, James Bond didn't stay with any of those women he rescued. Biological attraction and superficial compatibility do not a relationship make. Hell, that's what most of our WSs get from their APs. Some caped crusader coming in out of the blue to fuck away their problems with their anti-Kryptonite dicks.
I think that until we figure our shit out, I mean REALLY figure our shit out, we won't be able to make a real connection with someone because we don't even know what the FUCK kind of plug we have. Is it the standard US 110? It is one of those fucking weird Euro plugs? One of the multitude of 220 plugs? Are we three phase? Maybe we run off of a 12 volt system.
Until we know what the hell we are, WHO the hell we are, and get that shit nailed the fuck down, we'll just be buying different adapters to make it work.
And fuck just making it work. Fuck that.