Love is a game. Full stop. Don’t question it. Believe it. Full of ‘players’ just in it to score. Just in it to win a match. Not in it to enjoy the game, but only in it to win, win a prize to place it on their mantle piece, not bothering to clean it or shine it up, but its usage is merely to show what they won, amongst other trophies. It’s a collection, a mere tribute to their greatness of being a player, of which there in reality is none. This does not make me cynical about love, it only makes me wiser. I was always aware of the ‘game’ and it’s ‘players’ but never did I actually think I was in it. Oh, but I was. Well, I was definitely the ball in which the ‘players’ knocked around continuously. But I didn’t want to be the ball any more, I wanted to be a referee, to watch the game, observe and control. And today I am. And I am very proud of that. It takes a long time to learn the game, just like a long time for a referee to get to the position where he is. It is only when you realize that you have had enough of being the ‘ball’, that you take control of the game. Not before.
In our early years of having boyfriends or girlfriends and kissing boys and girls, we are faced with the ‘game’. Both males and females play it equally as hard. Some people are the relationship type and other just like to have a little action here and there, it’s like who can kiss the most girls or boys in one night? It becomes a competition amongst the ‘players’, involving who is the better player. Only when you find the ‘one’ to marry when you are older, does the game only stop. As if you have won the championship. Until then, the game continues.
One night of partying lead to this realization. I hadn’t kissed a guy in a while, so I was the ‘spectator’ of the game at the time. There was no action or scoring or winning, I was certainly out of practice. And so I needed some ‘training’. And with training you need a coach. The ‘game’ is like a practical exam. You may know the rules, tips, and ways to do or ‘play’ it but when it actually gets down to it, you have no clue, no idea of how to put all your knowledge into practice. My ‘coach’ was one of my close friends, who taught me rules and regulations about the ‘game’. But I needed something or someone else to actually push me into the game, and get the ball rolling. That someone was a guy, no names mentioned, who I met this one night. Yes, we flirted and eventually he kissed me unexpectedly and it made me realize that I was in the game now and no longer remained a spectator. He was not my type nor was I ever attracted to him, but as the saying goes ‘beggars cant be choosers’ and so I got his number and pursued calling him. Being lonely can make you blind because there is no one else, almost a sort of desperation. You will blind yourself from all the faults of that one person. I know it’s wrong to judge but I knew he was all wrong for me. He was like the rebellious naughty type. But I didn’t care. So we started chatting on the phone for the week and he told me exactly what I wanted to hear. He smsed me everyday, sometimes three to four times a day - talk about obsessive! He charmed me right into the place he wanted me to be. And then we organized to see each other on the following Saturday but when I phoned him the day before he acted like he never knew me and put down the phone when I tried to call. I don’t know why he did that or why he had a sudden change of thought, but maybe he thought we were getting to close and all he wanted was ‘ass’. It’s one of those unresolved mysteries, you always wonder, but never know.
I didn’t like him a lot and thankfully was not heart broken. It just irritated me. I irritated myself for being so ignorant. Not realising that boys are only in for one thing and one thing only. No offence to men, but the truth hurts. I was annoyed because I allowed him to control my ‘game’, he was the ‘player’ and I was the ‘ball’. He played me for a fool, and I was the pathetic little ‘ball’ being smacked around. After that I promised myself that I would never be the ‘ball’, but I would be in control of my own ‘game’. I was the powerful player, and men were the balls.
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