So, I heard something today that shouldn’t have any psychological significance.  I should have listened to it, saw it for the literal story that it was probably meant to be, and went on with my day.  But nope, not me.  Not Melissa.  I have to think and analyze everything until there’s nothing left.  So, here goes.

I keep wondering why I have let such a short (albeit intense) relationship get to me as bad as this last one did.  I always pout when a relationship doesn’t work out (which has happened PLENTY of times), but this one was different.  This one cut deep.  Not just because I miss my friend (which I do), but also because it has made me question who I am.  It has made me question my worthiness, my intuition, and most importantly – my inability to fully trust another person.  And I have no idea why this is happening.  But I heard a story this morning that has answered that question for me.

Turns out, I’m a monkey.

Ok, I guess I need to explain that statement.

The story goes like this:  there are these four guys in college.  They live in a dorm on the 23rd floor.  Being college guys, they sit around and analyze the effects of throwing various objects out of the window.  In fact, sometimes they try … things from rotten tomatoes to tennis shoes to one especially drunken night that consisted of tossing a 19″ tv to it’s shattered demise.  So, one night a deep conversation ensues about whether or not a monkey could be thrown out of the window.  Now, granted, these guys have no monkey.  But no matter.  These things need to be discussed just in case. You never know. So, the one guy (who’s studying to be a vet) makes the bold statement that it would be absolutely impossible to throw a monkey out of the window.  Now there have to be certain criteria to the project: (1) the monkey’s arms have to be long enough to be able to stretch out and reach the sides of the window; and (2) the monkey can not be in any altered state of consciousness…such as you cannot give it a sedative or get it drunk.  You could, however, spin the thing around and around until it got dizzy first.  You could wake it up from a deep sleep.  You could even develop a sling shot and hurl the thing at top speeds toward the open window.  Either way, the pre-vet insisted that he was correct and that no one could come up with a scenario that would weaken the monkey’s instincts enough to allow it to soar through the window without reaching out to protect itself.

But one person had an idea.  What if you gained the monkey’s trust?  What if you hold it like a baby.  Coddle it, coo at it, pretend to love it.  All the while, inching towards the window, with the oblivious lovestruck monkey laying helpless in your arms.  The monkey will be so enthralled with being loved and held, that it will develop a false sense of safety and will let it’s defenses down.  That way, once you are at the window, the monkey will be so deliriously content that it will not even see what is coming.  You can just calmly and quietly…drop him.  No warning, no signs of impending doom…the poor little guy will never know what hit him. The other guys agree, he has in fact solved the mystery and discovered how to get the monkey out of the window.

So, my own conundrum has been solved.  That’s why this hurts so bad.  Falling 23 stories from an open window is supposed to hurt, especially when you were too caught up in the moment to prepare to break your fall.

Stupid monkey.

~ 03/16/11 ~