Summary

The author reflects on their personal struggle with dependency and independence, using masking tape as a metaphor for the facade of self-reliance they maintain while grappling with a deep-seated need for a partner.

Abstract

The article delves into the author's introspection about their life, revealing a dichotomy between perceived independence and an underlying need for companionship. Despite outward appearances of self-sufficiency, the author admits to a pattern of quickly finding new romantic partners after the end of previous relationships. They acknowledge their emotional dependency, which contradicts their ability to be alone and enjoy solitary activities. The author's current relationship with Chuck provides stability and companionship, yet they are aware of the irony that Chuck's religious beliefs serve as a safeguard against a potential fourth marriage, which the author views as both a relief and a limitation.

Opinions

The author views their need for a partner as a form of dependency, which they find somewhat embarrassing and at odds with their independent lifestyle.
They are critical of their own behavior, describing their quick succession of relationships as "pathetic" and indicative of a lack of self-reliance.
The author values genuine care and action in a relationship over empty words or "flowery figures of speech."
They express a pragmatic approach to their current relationship, appreciating Chuck's qualities that align with their "flip-list of requisites" and the security he provides.
The author has a cynical view of marriage, particularly due to their past experiences, and sees Chuck's religious beliefs as a deterrent against entering into another marriage.
Despite recognizing their dependency, the author does not offer excuses or explanations for their behavior, presenting a candid self-assessment.

Masking Tape

Holding it together?

**Photo by Klára Vernarcová on Unsplash**

My masking tape serves double duty.

It holds my mask in its place: the mask I wear to face the world. Each day, I celebrate Halloween in reverse: it’s when the mask comes off that things get scary — in the dread of night, in my darkest dreams. There is more tape — rolls and rolls of it — that holds my fragile component selves together.

Pam, one of my running “friends,” recently said she admired my independence. I put “friend” in quotes not to be snide, but to indicate that Pam does not know me well.

Pam’s perception, sad to say, lies 180 degrees due north of the truth. If we were to map the poles of the in/dependency continuum North-to-South, devolving in descent toward ever-decreasing self-reliance, you’d find me somewhere south of Antarctica.

Unlike many, I am thrilled to bask in praise, provided it’s earned. My protest at Pam’s compliment was not by way of disingenuous humility, but by way of blunt honesty.

On the face of it — the masked face Pam sees — I am independent. No husband to answer to, I do as I please and there is much that pleases: reading, writing, singing, dancing, walking, running. Besides, I enjoy these activities largely in solitary non-confinement — no groups or clubs for me. My children long since grown, I am not tied down.

But I am nonetheless tied up. Tied up in my neediness for a man to take care of me despite my having the resources to care quite well for myself.

Try telling that to emotional-me. Logical-me wins the argument, but that’s moot: My emotions have a mind of their own and it refuses to listen to reason. Emotional-me needs what it needs, and that’s that.

Case in point: when I divorced Dick #1, I had a new man within two weeks. (My sister tells me I exaggerate — it wasn’t that long — more like four days.) Ditto after divorcing Dick #2. How pathetic is that!

Not as pathetic as this: When I sent my third knight in tarnished armor on a one-way trip to the Crusades, lo and behold! — there was Prince Charming, Chuck. The very next day! Thankfully, this time the shoe fit; no more torturous “trying-to-make-it-work-ain’t-gonna-happen.”

Still, that’s three for three in the dangerous game of “leap-before-you-look.”

At least I can claim partial credit for forethought as to Chuck. After my last disaster — a Delusional, Drunk, Debt-ridden loser — I wrote a flip-list of requisites: Sane, Sober, Solvent.

The good news: I finally got a guy who scored a triple “S.” Moreover, Chuck cares for me “in deed” — literally — versus in flowery figures of speech.

Best of all: Chuck comes with a built-in insurance policy against my being desperate enough to marry a third time. Policy line item “one-and-only-read-no-further”: Chuck is a fundamentalist Christian. Though I have no gripe with Jesus, I cannot abide his monstrous father.

Nonetheless, though I am single as in “not-married,” I am far from single in the practical sense: I see Chuck for several hours each evening. Should Chuck drop dead or drop out, I know I’d be out there ASAP desperately seeking SOMEONE.

I’ll spare you a tedious analysis of why I am what I am — I plead guilty to dependency, without excuse or explanation.

And with that confession, I shall sign off, get out that jumbo roll of masking tape, patch up my insecurities, secure my independence face, and engage in one of my solo pursuits. And another one after that … until the tape starts to peel off.

Luckily, by then it will be evening, and evenings — every evening — I spend with Chuck.