When a man starts to fall for a woman, it is sometimes said that she wrecks him. The guy might start behaving like a total scatterbrain or an obsessively laser-focused demon, hell-bent on pleasing her and gaining access to more of the intoxicating elixir of her love.
She may wreck him intentionally, as a precursor for building him back up, better, stronger, faster. And in an image more suitable to her liking. Down he goes, head over heels. Then, looking up, he finds her standing over him, the benevolent teacher. The knock on the head has rendered him receptive to all kinds of heretofore foreign principals, such as cleanliness, common sense, emotional vulnerability--things chicks know about and guys seem not to grasp usually.
When he's wrecked, he's no good to anyone else. He is her basket case. Her frame-up restoration project. So when she's done with him, he will be customized and suitable for her specifically. Kind of an anti-theft device to insure a one-owner status.
I was wrecked when I met Sharon. Over the years she remade me in her image (as much as is possible, I still have free will). But I willingly submitted, when I wasn't actively rebelling. I became her man, and my prior life and ideas took a back seat. She made so many positive changes in my life that I can't list them all.
I'd never have worked for Honda, or owned my own home outright. I'd probably be homeless, as the house I would have still been living in burned down in the Camp fire. I'd never have self-motivated in a million years to do any number of things that she basically "bitched me into doing." Behind every great man, there's a woman. You better believe it, baby, bitching at him and cracking the whip.
But when they go, after having formed such a deep connection and attachment, they wreck you again. Poor guy exists without a compass or navigation software. His CPU has half of its connections un-soldered, and he is once more useless to the world. His only hope is to try to keep some of those connections that were created by her, or attempt to form new ones. Good luck with that, by the way. Try rewiring your own brain with only half a brain, you'll see.
Anyway, that's me at the moment, in wreck no. 2. Whether I will succeed or fail at another reconstruction is an unknown. I may just be junkyard material at this point.
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.