I have issues, you see?

Not sure whether I've mentioned it before, but I have issues.

Specifically, issues with men.

Basically, I regard men (and yes, I am generalising here, to illustrate my point) as ruled by the remnants of a reptilian brain, which makes them unfeeling, selfish, disrespectful, manipulative, aggressive, abusive, close-minded, arrogant, hurtful bastards. Who will hump anything that has a hole in it.

Harsh, I know.

But, before crucifying me, here's the field of reference that this is based on:

Let's start at birth, shall we? Right off the bat, I was an accident, my sister was barely 9 months old, before my mom was pregnant again. Not planned. So when I popped out, being the second girl within 2 years, hardly endeared me to my father. I spent about 22 years trying to make up for the disappointment of my birth, generally grovelling at his feet for acceptance, but trying to step out of the shadow of a national champion athelete (sister), and being my own person, who did not run fast enough, or jump far enough etc etc, didn't do me much good. Yes, I excelled in my own way, but being the best in my dance school never quite cut it. He never once, in the 12 years I danced, had the time to see me dance, he was too busy supporting my sister.
Ok, age 4, my first brother is born, but instead of being the rugby-playing, macho guy my father wanted, he turns out to have Downs-syndrome. He still went on to become a champion athlete, but being disabled, in my father's eyes, that didn't count. So, he started drinking. And beating, getting drunk, dragging my mom around by the hair, raping her, beating her black and blue (but only places that her clothing would cover - clever bastard, can't let people know, you know.) I basically grew up with the sound of my mom begging and screaming behind the bedroom door.
He did give us beatings, but never as bad as my the ones my mom got.
Skip ahead a few years, my father hires a gardener. I like him, he's friendly. I was probably around 8, and I remember him calling me behind a wall, and showing me his penis. I don't remember anything after that, but I have a feeling that that's not all that happened. Never been able to remember, and I have tried. I still have trouble touching a penis without feeling revulsion.
Ok, at 19, I'm studying, and receive a call from my mom saying she's leaving, and that I shouldn't worry if I don't hear from her for a while. I tell her I think she's doing the right thing. Afterwards my sister tells me my father went looking for her with a gun, which she, for some reason, thinks was justified.
In the meantime, I never dated seriously, I kiss a few guys, but make them back off as soon as I can. Managed to not get raped, in several very dangerous situations. Fall in love, with the jerk I'd end up marrying at 23. We date a few times, I find him exciting, and a little dangerous, he skips class, smokes at school, hangs out with the "cool" guys.
My father and I don't talk, so although he disapproves, I don't care. We marry, against my mom's wishes, I tell her I love him, and realise that I made a mistake within a few months. But I stay. For 6 years, I become invisible, the background he lives his live on, I carry him and all the responsibility, but have to melt into the scenery, my personality supresses his, you see. I have my son at 28, and move out when my son is barely a year old.
My ex husband tells my mom that the only reason he agreed to the divorce was that someone told him "she'll never manage on her own", and I'd come crawling back. Divorcing him is something I have never had any ambigious feelings about, if I stayed, I don't think I'd be alive today.
I move in with my father, since I have nowhere else to go. Become my disabled brother's nurse, mommy, and caretaker. Try to raise my son not to be like his grandfather, while my father tries his level best to raise him "properly", since I obviously, have no idea what I'm doing. I move out.
Then the sado-masochistic Canadian, then the alcoholic, that I've blogged about before, and don't feel like writing about now.
My father and I still don't have much contact, I speak to him when I have to, and accept the fact that we'll never have a father-daughter relationship. This still makes me sad, I still feel somehow, not enough, like there's something wrong with me, if even my father (who is bioligically programmed to care about his own progeny) cannot love me. He's still the one and only person that makes me cry when I think about him.

There has always been an abundance of domineering, manipulating men in my life, one replacing the other, as soon as I manage to get rid of one, another shows up. Since I realised this, I do manage to get rid of them faster, eg. 6 months, instead of 2 years, but they just keep on appearing. So, obviously, these are the kind of men I attract. It frustrates the crap out of me, since I don't know how, and consequently, don't know how to change that.

My survival instinct, that part that tells you, Run or Fight, tries to blame it on men, and rationalise it by learning that all men are like the ones in my life. Now, I'm not sure that all men are, plenty of people have told me that not all are, but as I have no evidence to the contrary, I'm inclined to agree with the part that has proof. I've invited men (plenty of them) to prove me wrong, and no, I'm not talking about any kind of sexual contact, I mean, trying to convince me that some men are actually not bad, that some are actually nice, and won't try to swallow me, and force me to conform to their idea of who I should be. So far, and I'm turning 34 in 6 months, not one has.

Now, according to my beliefs, I should be able to blindly believe in good men. I should. I should allow them in, invite them in, and give them a chance. Instead, I stand ready to bolt for the door, at the first sign of aggression. And almost breathe a sigh of relief when they invariably turn out to be what I expect. But honestly, can you blame me?

Are there any good men out there, or are the women who say yes, just blind, or turning their faces away from the truth? "None so blind, as those who will not see". At the moment, this logically, seems like the most plausible scenario. Logically, I should not give any man a chance, I should run like hell as soon as one turns his head my way. Which is exactly what I'm doing, so how come, being a logical, rational creature, feels like I'm depriving myself of something beautiful? I want to be proven wrong. I just don't believe I will be.

See, what'd I tell you. Issues.