It’s not me at all, actually. It’s you. Sorry.
Martians traditionally have a complex: they like a chase, but not always the catch. But more often than not, the catch is what they end up with. Today, this pursuit-centric mentality isn’t limited to the masculine — Venusians are joining the club in droves, and though I loathe to admit it, I’m one of them.
The pursuit of commitment is often more thrilling than the commitment itself. After an adrenaline-fueled pursuit, all that usually remains is a dilapidated vestige of the chase, a reminder of excitement past. How disappointing.
To combat the numbing comfort and security that would otherwise settle, the crafty pursuer plays what I call the Blame Game. Sometimes augmented by the Breakup Fantasy, the Blame Game is the mother of all unhealthy relationships. From unpalatable remarks to unwanted personality traits, the pursuer begins to nitpick, critiquing each aspect of the unsuspecting victim and falling deeper and deeper into delusion until only one conclusion seems reasonable — getting rid of the catch. Rinse and repeat.
Whether this behavioral travesty is a product of famously capricious teenage nature or a tragic result of life-long nurture, it’s been hammered into us. There’s a perpetual need for motion, an inability to remain stable and content. And it’s spilled over into other aspects of our lives. We’re conditioned to constantly look ahead, constantly search for the next big opportunity.
So maybe we should take a step back and reevaluate the games we play.
Sometimes finding fault is, in itself, a fault.
