Wrong catches

May be it is the birthday blues or just I have become addicted to mood swings.
A psychiatric friend once summed what she called my case as a commitment phobic behavior. She explained my tendency to choose the wrong men by a deep fear of commitment. She said that I unconsciously choose the relations that I know will never work. I choose the men I know will never commit and therefore I deliberately decide my heart breaks before even getting into a relation.
My sister on the other hand claims that I always choose losers. She is convinced that I am a sort of a magnet that attracts a certain type of men. This type of men is generally characterized by being involved in something/ someone else. A typical scenario will be me choosing a playboy over a decent guy, a committed guy over a single one or any man who will have something/ someone else filling up his life.
When Brad asked me for the date I couldn’t believe myself and I went telling her. She looked at me in disgust and said “so is he married or engaged” so I replied in depression “neither, nor. He is single”. She said in astonishment “strange!! So where is the catch?” and when I told her about my agreement with Brad she wore a knowing smile, the smile of someone who just figured out the solution to a kid’s puzzle.
I don’t really know if I am a magnet that attracts men who will never commit or I am really commitment phobic person or may be I am punishing myself for something that I can’t remember.
What I can remember is that I have started with a set of great expectations; I started by dreaming of the perfect relation, a perfect man who is smart, handsome, successful and ambitious, A man who has the manners of a knight and the mentality of a philosopher.
Then I introduced the term compromise to my dictionary. I compromised the looks with the first man; a friend at that time convinced me that looks aren’t everything and what really counts in the personality. Then I introduced compromise to the personality department, as I believe no one is perfect. I compromised my long list of needs to have my fairy tale, to have prince charming and the happy ever after life. But prince charming had a witch mother and unlike fairy tales the witch won the war not the dreaming princess.
I started by giving away the prince charming in my fairy tale then I moved on to give away the happy ever after part. I got marriage off my list of goals. I gave away the little girl’s dream of being a princess for one night. I learnt that there is no happy ever after life, I knew that the word end means a new start, I discovered that if Romeo and Juliet were to get married they would have ended divorced or at least regretting the day they met.
I gave away the dream and started living the reality. I took marriage off my list of goals; I adopted a no need for men attitude. I wore a sign reading I am single and I am happy.
I killed the little girl and kept the woman. I kept the woman who understands the need for a man to have his space, his life and to have non-obligating company.

May be the real problem isn’t my fear of commitment and not even my phobia of change. But may be the real phobia is my phobia of being loved, my fear of belonging to someone. I have never belonged to anyone, none of them dared rising his flag on my territory, all what they asked for was a permission to access my land as visitors, and no one wanted to stay. No one cared to take a deeper look than the tourist eyes. They came, they enjoyed and the left without a goodbye. I was never theirs as they were never mine.

I don’t regret burying the dreams along with the feelings. I don’t mourn the little girl with her princess’s fairy tales. I need no man to complete me. I am happy being the queen of my own tale. I am the ruler of my own free land. I belong to no one but myself.

There weren’t catches to be right or wrong.