A couple of weeks ago I was in a seminar and I noticed a vibrant and beautiful woman. She would go out of her way to smile at me, would place her hand on my shoulder when walking by. At first I thought she was just friendly and sweet and then she sat down in front of me and I was able to take in more of her. She is a one-punch knock out, tall and curvy, big brown eyes, Columbian. I have a thing for Columbians apparently. We had some energy flying between us and when it was time for a break, she and I went for a walk to grab a coffee.
I was totally into her from the jump, and I could tell she liked me too, but I wasn’t sure how this would be, really. Something about the obvious attraction between us was obfuscated, in shadow- hidden from me. We enjoyed that coffee; our time together was close, energetic, echoing. When we got back, we exchanged numbers and I texted her the next day to follow up with her about a project I knew she was working on. She said, “I would love to get together with you to talk with you more about it” to which I replied quickly with my availability. We set up a date a week in advance, and that date was tonight.
She thoughtfully chose a veg-friendly restaurant and we met for dinner. I was feeling/looking a little frumpy today because my back is still jacked and I had just come from the chiropractor. She rolls in looking like a super model, effortlessly beautiful, tall and radiant. This may be the moment I realized that we might be on a date. I’m pretty sure that was a date. And if it was not, well then I gotta jump on getting her to go on a date with me. She made it very clear to me that she dates both men and women. In discussing her recent struggles, she gave me with her exact location in life, her vulnerability endears her to me. We had a beautiful evening and I can hardly wait to really put it on her the next time, so there will be NO ambiguity about whether this is a date or not.
Funny thing though, when we were checking out- I had a really surprising exchange of innuendo with the man who came to take our check. He had a lot of power there, luckily I was so into my date that I didn’t push it, but I could have. She loved watching him and I flirt, she liked my way with him. I would have liked to have my way with him for sure; I liked how she handled that. I’m not sure that this fits as asking someone out (I did ask her for that coffee) or having a date and therefor letting myself off the hook for kicking it to anyone- it is both and it is the only story I have today! I’m sleep-writing this, let me go- and again fingers and toes are crossed, light the love candles on your altar, because I have a date scheduled with my musician friend Friday (day 45). Feels like forever away.
PS there is some crazy shit happening in the sky tonight. Big full moon lunar eclipse, a grand water trine AND the long awaited Cardinal Cross.
I can’t tell you exactly what all that means but I can say this: the big message is about letting go. My friend emailed me and wrote of this astrology, “changes are accelerating as of now!” so I will leave you with that. Just stay hydrated and honest and you will be just fine.
I, will most likely just be exhausted from all this romancing 😉 let it accelerate, tho- I am ready.
Of the serious boyfriends of my life, I have met 3 of them on April 8th. No lie.
My High-school Sweetheart: 4/8/1994
I was working at a popular roadside ice cream and burger stop. It was a Friday night early in the season and I had plans with my girls to go to a party hosted by an older boy, I think he may have been in his second year of college. I was 2 months shy of 16. When I saw the white Honda Prelude pull up, my heart quickened, as I had seen this car before, and the guy who drove it was really, really hot. He was tall and tan, had that long-ish skater punk hair, sea blue-green eyes,the straightest teeth and sweetest smile. He did not go to my high school, I didn’t know him. He and his friend got into the line at my window,looking at me and kind of whispering to each other. They ordered, flirtatiously, and sat a table waiting for their order, still watching me. I was blushing and showing off in the way 15 year old girls do. I made sure that I, personally, called their order out over the speaker, they came up and his friend asked me if I had a boyfriend, which, at the time I did not. I looked at my crush and asked them if they wanted to come back later when I got out to go to a party, they said sure. Haha, I guess I had those instincts even at 15… it’s true, I knew.
Sure enough, he and his friend came back to meet me. My besties came to pick me up, and the boys got in the car with us and off we went. I sat right on his lap in the back seat pile up- I think there were at least 4 or 5 of us squeeshed in. We got high, we sang songs, laughing and radiating out into the night. When we spilled out of the car, I whispered to him “Will you hold my hand, please?” and he smiled, reached out and took my hand and said “Of course. Why?” and I replied, “Because I don’t want any of these other girls to think they can hit on you” and we walked into the house, laughing, holding hands.
There was a little drama upon arrival- I was part of a crew of boys, and one of those boys had his mark on me. He did not like to see me walk in holding a strangers hand, and he made it known by being a total dick to my dude. We got more high, more drunk- our high school parties always got stupid, people barfing and setting things on fire; standing in spontaneous circles spitting on each others shoes and laughing at the expense of someone else.
In a drunken heartbeat hallway, we were alone and we fell into someone’s bedroom. I don’t remember when the first kiss happened but now we were moving, fast, beyond that. Drunk and unexpected, I took him in my hands; he came quickly and I gasped ‘Ohhh I’m so sorry!’ because, well, the mess. He burst out laughing and told me he had never heard of someone apologizing for making someone come, and I burst out laughing too. We lay there laughing and kissing and smiling for a bit; cleaned up and made our way back out to the keg, where we split up to report back to our people, like we did way back then.
The next day, I saw him again, and by Sunday, he was my boyfriend. He got me a kitten for my 16th birthday and we named the kitten Paco. Inseparable and happy, we stayed together until midway through my first semester of college… Then one morning after tripping at a Violent Femmes show, I woke up and, without warning, smashed his heart into bits after breakfast.
The First One I Lived With: 4/8/2001
He worked at a pizza place up the hill from the youth center I was working in. I went there often with the kids and sort of smoldered awkwardly in his presence, every time. He was tall and thin with very trendy dark rimmed glasses, spiky black hair and white blue eyes. So Weezer. I loved his big Jewish nose and his little boy lips, giant hands, and the way he moved. His movements were both exaggerated and deliberate but he was somehow floaty and soft, like sunny day clouds.
I loved him.
One night I was over there with 2 of the kids I was particularly close to- they were a couple and they were funny. She knew I had a crush on him and totally embarrassed the SHIT out of me by asking him if he was single, telling him that I was and that I thought he was really hot. He looked at me quizzically and I burned bright red, scrunched my face, shook my head and turned heel, walked right out. The kids came after me laughing trying to drag me back but there was no way. Humiliating.
Some time later, I was in a bar playing pool with some friends and he came up to the table, laid his quarters down for the next game. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. I was a hella pool player as was my partner, so we won and up he came for the match. He was a hella pool player as was his partner; I don’t remember who won, but I do know we flirted our way around that table! He was UP on me and I was SO into it. We talked away for the rest of the night, he was drinking Red Bull and vodkas and I could smell that faux strawberry Red Bull smell on his breath. Just a sweet and happy drunkie, smoking his Marlboro lights, among a crew of friends who I could tell were all good people. It was easy to see he was gold. I asked him if he remembered me from the awkward incident in the pizza shop and he freaked out when he made the connection. That day, he had gotten his first real job as a graphic designer for a small Chinese appliance company in New York City. He took my number on the inside of his cigarette pack, kissed me before I left. Exhilarated and turned out into the starry, sweet smelling New Paltz night, lovestruck; driving and singing my way over the mountain.
That was a Friday, and when he called me the next night Saturday Night Live was on and it was Coldplay’s first appearance. They played the song ‘Yellow’ in the background of our call; he invited me over the next day for a grill and canoe in the afternoon. I accepted. He lived with a couple dudes in a cabin right on the Walkill River. He bounced out to the car when I pulled up, took my hand and gave me a tour of the house and property. He introduced me to his roomates and friends who were enjoying the afternoon, they were all super nice and everything was beautiful.
“Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.” as Kurt Vonnegut said…
We had a fast and sweet 3 months, he was so thoughtful and fun to be with. There was something that was a little off for me, I was uncomfortable and couldn’t really pinpoint what or why, but at the time I interpreted it as I wasn’t really into him. We broke up, he did not take it well; I was sad and confused about it but it seemed like the right thing to do. A couple months later I saw him in the bar and we ended up going home together. Things kind of went like that for a few weeks- we were hanging out and sometimes having sleep overs, but we were not quite back together- you know. Like that.
Then on September 11, 2001, I was driving home from my morning class at the college and I was listening to live radio of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. I stopped for a pack of smokes and got home quickly, tried to call him and his phone was busy. I knew nothing of the geography of NYC at that time, but I knew his office was right in the middle of it and I was really really scared. I was sitting on the floor of my apartment in my underwear taking bong hits, watching live as the second plane hit; my mother called and suggested I come home right away. I kept trying to call him and could not reach him. Emailed; no response. I went to work and sat on the front porch steps consumed with worry. I called his good buddy to ask if he had heard anything, and his friend said “Oh, he just got here- he was on the last bus they let out of the city- do you want to talk to him?” and I just hung up the phone, got into my car and drove to his friends apartment.
In all of my life, before and since, I have never been happier to see someone as I was to see him in that moment. I jumped into his arms and we cried. We smoked a bowl and played some video games, counted all of our ducks, made our way to the bar. It struck me that my feelings for this person must have been much deeper than I understood and that night, I told him I loved him and wanted to get back together. He agreed. On our way home from the bar, we got jumped in the parking lot- it was a mess. People got really hurt, and it was a hard awful day. He managed only a black eye, I had a sore throat.
Two months later we moved in together and had the best time in our first apartment. We painted every room and arranged all of our art, filled up our refrigerator and made love every night. He had a home office but commuted an hour and 45 minutes to the city every day. He loved me madly and was always funny and kind.
We lived in that apartment for 2 years and then moved closer to the city when I got a new job. Simultaneously, I was really getting strange and disturbed from all of the drugs and alcohol I had been consuming for the past 10 years. Our home life was bittersweet; he was starting to get really concerned about my drinking. One night he came home from work so so upset because that morning when he left, he could not wake me because I was so fucking trashed passed out wasted from the night before. I was deeply ashamed and promised to get better but what I really did was started lying and hiding my alcohol and drug use. It was a dark time.
We lost that apartment and he told me he thought I had a problem and needed to get help. We moved back in with our respective parents to try to sort things out. One evening I went down to visit him, he had prepared a picnic on his front lawn, purchased my favorite red wine. As soon as he saw me he started to cry and asked me “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” I looked down and the blanket and nodded, huge tears falling from my face to my hands. He threw the wine bottle and the glasses, those big deliberate movements, floating thunderstorm clouds. I left him there, on the lawn at his parents house, and drove 90 minutes home to a bar. I woke up the next morning unsure of the night before, in the bed of a friend.
I spent the next 6 months in a black out, he and I did not see each other but would have sad sad conversations every now and then. He wanted me to come back and I was not sure, I was really fucked up and trying to figure things out. His life kept moving. Then one day he told me he met someone else and was going to date her- I needed to think hard and fast. A month later, he called to tell me he had fallen in love with someone else and could not speak to me anymore.
In a way that I did not understand or see at the time, he was like my last life line, the only thing I had that was possibly going to tether me to myself or life as it had been and suddenly he was gone. Forlorn and exhausted, I must have prayed; within days, I stopped drinking and using drugs and that was over 10 years ago.
The One I Never Really Had: 4/8/2006
In the early days of MySpace, one day a message came through from a local performer, inviting me to check out one of the shows he hosted at a local bar. I kind of felt bad for him, and admired him for doing this kind of individual social networking recruitment (my, times have changed, huh?!) so I wrote him back to thank him and said I would be happy to come to a show. He wrote me back, and suddenly we were in it- and IT was very cute- anticipating his messages, creepin on his pictures.
Within days, he asked me to meet him for tea at a local coffee shop that I hung out at a lot. I remember exactly what I was wearing, and I remember clearly standing outside chatting with some friends when he walked up. I caught his elbow before he went inside, he smiled huge and kissed me on the cheek, introduced himself to my friends. Led me by the arm as he held the door to go inside. We ordered jasmine green teas and went up to the loft, where we stayed for hours. It was early and obvious, what was happening there. He was not shy to reach down and touch my foot to say he liked my shoes; hook his finger on my shirt to pull it down and admire the tattoo on my chest; lean in to smell my perfume. He wore Aqua di Gio and to this day I can’t think straight when I smell it. He was/is Sicilian and unbearably gorgeous, with the deepest man voice on Earth, the softest brown eyes. Goofy, easily worked up, loud, self-effacing, doped on me, sexy as hell.
Within the week, we met at the coffee shop 2 more times before I invited him over to my apartment for tea. As I write this, my heart is swelling, in memory of that time in my life, the early days of him. I have written other parts of this story here- Day 10, Days 28 & 29.
Sometimes I think all the bad karma I accumulated from the ways I hurt the first two was all payed up with this one. Jesus, I hope so.
Um, not for nothing, I did just meet someone- who appears exceptionally great- the day before yesterday, or, 4/8. Not that that means anything or anything, but it is a very sweet first date entrance story. Briefly: He asked me to meet him at a popular speak-easy downtown. I arrived at the door and rang the bell. A full minute later, a beautiful woman out of time opened the door and greeted me apathetically, asking if I had a reservation. I said no and explained I was meeting someone here. She asked my name, then looked at her list and said “Oh, you are here to meet ____, come in” and she closed the door and locked it behind me, telling the other people there that she would be with them in a minute.
She was bustling about the front area, a man came out and asked for his coat. They had an exchange, she offered to take my coat- it was very warm and dark inside. Whisky smoke jazz, low light, lacy wallpaper & gold rimmed mirrors. Gatsby-esque. These are my people, this is my place. She hangs my coat, I tousle my mane and step down into a room of velvet couches candles and close couples, the opening horn of ‘At Last’ by Etta James croons as I cross the room. She tells me he is in the bar as we glide through the room , heads and eyes turning up to watch us. Just as I cross the threshold to the back room bar, Etta begins… “At laaaaaasssssst…” The hostess introduces us by name, he looks at me with a brilliant smile and Etta booms, “… my looooove has come hoooome…”
Riding the subway home, not terribly late- reading Henry and June by Anais Nin. This is one hell of a book. I looked up and saw a man, made space for him next to me- he was young and striking and had really incredible thick thighs. Tall, light eyed, hair like Magnum PI. Tentative. At first I was sure this was my moment for the question of the day. Glancing at him in my periphery, I just wasn’t so sure- but clearly I need the practice. So I reluctantly put down Anais and turned to him, friendly smile: “Are you on your way out or coming home?” On his way home from the restaurant where he works. We talked for a bit- he is 6 months in NYC from Minnesota. A very very young 26, but so sweet. After talking with him, I did not want to ask him out at all. I wanted to make him a sandwich and help him with his homework, you know?
Nonetheless, we got off the train and I noticed when he lengthend out he is a well constructed man- he looks like he has been working on a farm for his whole life. We laugh a bit, walk a ways together, I’m still not gonna do it- I just can’t. I notice his wet mouth, his teeth, those thighs- he is at least 6’0 and walking closer to me. I am seeing a little twinkle in his eyes and I chose not to walk with him to his street even though it could have been on my way, if I took a different way than I usually go. I said sweetly ‘Ok, I’m going to dip here hon” and he stopped and said ‘Oh? It was so nice to meet you…” I said ” you too!” and walked my ass home.
That counts, right? If it was earlier in the day, I would have tried again I swear. I was actually on my way home from a date with someone from Match (days 24 & 25). It was fun- we have a lot in common and strangely share some interesting history though we have not met before. I know that this man wants something serious, that he wants kids- both from his profile and early conversations. He made me laugh a lot, I could tell he liked me very much. I will go out with him again but I have no feelings about it. Juuuuust trying to be open- people tell me that sometimes someone grows on you, that people can be nervous or intimidated at first which I empathize with. Like many of you, and historically, I know immediately or within 3 minutes of knowing someone if I want to get with them or not. And when I don’t, so far, I never end up do-ing. If I try to, it always ends awkwardly, people get hurt and I feel guilty for experimenting with my openness to new experiences and new pathways to love on his time and investment. Shit, I might have to cancel… let me see after the next date.
I mean, I was wrong-ish about the architect (day 1) though if I am honest with you completely I will say I had some reservations from the start. They played themselves out quickly. Dates 2-3 I was getting kind of hot for him, but when he told me he is moving back to California and wanted to talk to me about being broken hearted and anxious after a social network review of his most recent ex, my flower closed. Reverse bloom. I felt that repulsion I was afraid to feel with him (day 21) and I think the fear I felt was my intuition warning me. It’s OK. It did suck to let it die- he asked me out a couple of times and I was legitimately busy, but I didn’t try to make another plan with him. And finally I thought of how I would like to be treated, and if I was now the woman that I want to grow into, how would I behave?… so I confronted it head on yesterday and thanked him but said the truth which is that I am looking for something different. Maybe we will be friends. If we are just friends then maybe I won’t have any energy about his yoga head band 😉
And it became clear to me today that the something different I am looking for is definitely not the kind of arrangement I had with my former lover of 8 years (day 10). I mean, I knew that, but something happened today that triggered a reaction based on the fear, hurt and harm I brought upon myself in that old relationship. Not to be vague haha, there’s not anything specific to say- a fear and sadness washed over me this afternoon and as I was feeling it I was able to identify clearly that what I was feeling was not of the moment I was in- it was historical, it was old wide deep water. Bayou swamp shit. It’s just that I don’t want to feel fucking crazy like that again- and get myself into an intimate situation with someone who is unavailable, where I find myself crossing my inner lines, in hope, to please; where I get all delusional and my desire for someone’s attention and affection, and to win them- have them CHOOSE ME- becomes more powerful than my instincts and desire to be loved-loved. Not love-to-be-fucked loved. It does not feel like a lie for me to want to have the experiences of non-monogamy, polyamory, and sexual vibrancy and freedom. I’m so so in- and I’m even ready for this stuff that is going to come up. Old ideas, in service of the ego, are only interested in their own survival. I was a feelings worshipper for so goddamn long that the super-ordination of this higher self- which now observes the feelings, triages them into categories then applies exploration, compassion and action- is just taking some getting used to. That and there were many years of my life that I did not love myself like this and was unable to want the Highest Love for myself. Now it feels like anything else, from friend lover or otherwise, just won’t do.
I was having dinner with a friend tonight and noticed a young attractive waiter- sort of James Franco-esque, yet less aware of his swag. We exchanged some glances but my back was to him most of the time- I put my intention to ask him out to the side and just enjoyed dinner with my friend. We were having some serious girl talk- dealing with some real grown woman life stuff. She held up this crystal clear mirror for me to see something familiar that maybe I was not wanting to see this past week. It’s funny the ways we try to hide ourselves from ourselves.
As I was putting on my coat to leave, the waiter and I were having eyes, I was gathering my courage. I noticed he had a piece of paper taped to his shirt. When we walked past he and his colleagues having dinner at he bar, I leaned in to see what was written on it. He explained that he did not have pockets, so, he taped his list of items he had to retrieve from the basement to his shirt. What a cutie. We laughed, I looked at him and said ‘oh I thought maybe those were your care instructions’ which seemed at first to confuse him, then it seemed to fluster him- so I quickly decided to let it go, I couldn’t really read that signal and there were too many people around. Hot little thing though. I go there occasionally, maybe I will see him again.
Just before leaving, I learned about Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin separating. So sad. Her blog post at GOOP is worth reading, if you have not yet read it. There is a brilliant discussion by Drs. Sadeghi & Sami about the increase in life expectancy relating to divorce rates, this fact being an important consideration as we think about what it means to be married or coupled and what goes wrong. Then there is even more insightful explanations of the evolution of insects and humans- that insects are too vulnerable with those exoskeletons, and that we are less vulnerable because of our flexibility and ability to absorb, change, recover. Laying down some serious truth about what happens in intimate relationships- how we essentially trigger in each other all that is wounded and unhealed- that intimacy and romance occur as our greatest spiritual teachers. Marianne Williamson talks about this in her book Enchanted Love, she refers to this triggering as hitting the wall of fire: you either walk through it to become something different- fire the element of transformation- or you turn away and turn cold, and this can be done together/intact or alone. I have long said that my most difficult break up was my greatest teacher; that I walked through that wall of fire alone- and while I would have preferred that transformation to have been possible without having to sacrifice that love- I understand now why it had to be that way. GOOP in general is worth reading, but this blog post about their sad, sad separation and “Conscious Uncoupling” will be historical- the site has already crashed from so much traffic. I would link it for you but I think you can only get it through email subscription…
Riding the subway home, a poem came through me. I feel it is for Gwyneth, for Chris, and all our broken little hearts.
Kristen was an actress who grew up on Nantucket and came from a very wealthy family, we worked together at a bar. I’m not sure why she worked at all, it was probably to practice acting. Tall hourglass bottle blonde that smelled like Chanel No. 5 and used her laugh as an insult. She had a ridiculously hot roommate who was a natural, airy platinum with perfect tits that everyone enjoyed because she was pleasant and easy in every way. We were in the same solar system but they were a lot closer to the Sun.
Maggie was the bar owner’s girlfriend. Another blonde, in curls; short and curvy like a compressed Scarlett Johansson- same mouth, same eyes. Maggie painted these enormous acrylic paintings that hung in the bar- colorful abstract gardens in mostly primary colors, an evening or two and a nice bourbon memorialized. She liked strong and varied drinks, always offering me sips of her mint juleps or Campari & soda, while I was working. She liked the little straws and rocks glasses; always holding the drink with her elbows bent in, drink close to her face. Maggie would show up and it was all hands on deck- the owner would tighten us all up- perfectly charming service delivered through hard work, bleach clean spaces. They both had such magnetic, wide smiles; they both had glittery eyes and the expansive vocabularies of the well bred. We were on the same ship but I was in the hull.
One night Kristen and I got drunk together after work and I seduced her in the bathroom. I vividly remember the taste and smell of her, greedy and insistent, pulling my mouth to her body on the bathroom floor, the sounds of her surprise and delight; the glow of oxytocin in her eyes as I dressed her before we went back out to the bar. I didn’t blink, nothing had changed for me.
How Maggie and I ended up in bed together I hardly remember. On a slow Sunday night, she invited me to have a drink with her and that turned into more drinks at a different bar, also owned by her boyfriend. The bartender was a gorgeous Middle Eastern man who knew both of us but did not realize we were lovers. Techinically, we were not, yet- but there was no differentiating her sex from mine and I’m sure it seemed like we were deep in the steam and slip of an affair. Maybe the owner knew, maybe he did not- the bartender didn’t care and was up for all of it- Maggie and I paid for nothing, the irony of being rich. I know she and I spent some time together on the leather couch in the office while he was downstairs closing the bar. There is very little I remember between there and being in the bartenders apartment on his Persian rug, pillows on the floor, Maggie refusing his penetration but wanting to do everything else that pleased me. In my memory he was more of an accessory, doing a lot of rubbing and watching, directing mouths and hands, she and I were only for each other. I have no idea when it ended or where I landed come morning.
Kristen started to hang around me more and told me she wanted to date. She would act like a jealous girlfriend, like a wounded adolescent, if I was not giving her attention which irritated the shit out of me, but then sometimes when I would get drunk and she was there, wanting to fuck, I did not say no. In my (few) undrunk moments, I was cold and clear in my lack of interest. Maggie, on the other hand, had my full attention and devotion, but she was still in a relationship with my boss, though that did not stop her from pursuing me sexually; most of the time we were too intoxicated to hide it. I remember many times stealing kisses, pushing her into a bathroom or a stairwell, biting her lips and pulling up her fitted thermal to reveal her unbound, beautiful breasts. Maggie would squeal at the first touch, every time, cradling my head to her body, unbuttoning her pants for me to pull them off. These moments tormented and broken, as I would have to get back to my job and she to being the first lady. Kristen would huff by me, rolling her eyes and saying something wounded and cunty- I would just adjust my clothes, take a drink and reapply my lip gloss, focused.
When it was contained in our workplace, we had to behave- then one night the triangle ended up at a different bar and some drama popped off. I got there first, with other friends- then Maggie showed up and stole the night. She captivated me every time, there was nothing I wanted more than more bourbon and more of her. From habit, I knew she was shaved and naked under her Levis, I loved the way she talked and her teeth behind her full pink lips, the way she would put her hand under my skirt while listening. We made frequent trips to the bar and to the bathroom- not having anything to get back to, any other way to be. No one else was there, really. We were in the back bathroom and I had Maggie leaning back against the wall, slid down on the toilet, her shirt up to her armpits and her jeans below her knees. We could hear the sounds of the bar outside, that music and glittering clinkiness, voices and servers moving past. I was on the floor; Maggie was purring and squirming, when someone started banging on the door. We were so drunk on bourbon and each other, Maggie giggled said ‘one minute!!!’ and held the back of my head, getting lost again before the door got a violent yank-tug-yank-tug and with all her might it ripped open, off the hinges, Kristen lunging in, flush faced and wild. Maggie and I sat up as Kristen yelled and flailed, demanding an explanation and not waiting to hear one, telling me what an awful person I was and noticing Maggie’s naked perfection, exploding into tears and running out, slamming the half hinged door behind her, Maggie’s giggle following her all the way home, into the cold night.
I’ve been single for a couple years now. I’ve dated and had lovers and had spells of dry dry loneliness, but have not called anyone my partner for some time. Mostly, I believe I wasn’t actually capable of true partnership most of that time, though I could not see it; and the Universe was gentle enough to make sure I was still getting laid & entertained but did not present me with any truly suitable partners. It’s that mirror again- naturally I was not going to attract a healthy, whole person who was capable of an extraordinary relationship because I was not a healthy, whole person who was capable of an extraordinary relationship.
A few years ago, I had a really painful and sad break-up that brought me to my knees. I grew more in the wake of that relationship than really any other time in my life. I have often said that wish I could have learned what I needed to learn and evolve without having to sacrifice the person who meant the most to me in the Universe, yet I have come to believe that it really was the only way I was really going to get the message that I had to change. Th experience was so jarring for me that it has taken a long long time to recalibrate. Following the break up, I got involved in a long term affair that was equally damaging in the way it distorted my perception of my value, what ‘love’ meant, and what is “normal” in relationships. In her book How To Be a Woman, Caitlin Moran writes:
But, of course, on being freed, people who’ve been psychologically crushed don’t immediately start doing glorious, confident, ostentatious things. Instead, they sit around for a while, going, “What the fuck was that?” trying to work out why it happened, trying- often- to see if it was their fault.
They have to work out what their relationship is with their former aggressors and come up with new command structures- or work out if they want command structures at all. There’s a need to share experiences and work out (a) what “normal” is and (b) if you want to be it. And, above all, it takes time to work out what you actually believe in- what you think for yourself. If everything you have been taught is the history, mores, and reasoning of your victors, it takes a long, long time to work out what bits you want to keep, which bits you want to throw away: which bits are poisonous to you, and which parts are salvageable.
In short, there is a long period of gently patting yourself, going, “Am I okay? Am I all right?” often followed by a long, long thoughtful silence before any action gets under way. (p. 248)
During my “long, long, thoughtful silence” I learned to take responsibility for my part in this stuff, get complete with it, and let it go. I’m a different woman now for sure, and I’m excited to have the opportunity to love someone and bring all that I have learned to a relationship. That said, I still had/have a whole bunch of trepidation/terror about love and dating! That’s part of the brilliance behind this challenge to ask out one man every day who I am attracted to and perceive to be out of my league. That brilliance was not mine- a friend of mine, who I actually am starting to think is more of an angel-wizard than mortal- put me up to it. He saw that I needed a push to get out of the plane.
South African artist Faith 47 creates explosively stunning paintings and murals throughout the world. She talks about the murals that she paints in such a beautiful and spiritual way, for me it is such a parallel to the experiences of love in my own life- both when she talks about the work itself and her experience of making the work, the people she gets to meet and the way she engages with the space and time the work exists in. She moves me. Faith says, ” I embrace the fact that the work is temporary on the streets… I really like the idea that there is something so fragile about it- and for me that’s kind of like life, you know- you can’t hold on to things- so if you get to see that image in it’s space at the right time, that’s like a special moment, there is something quiet and beautiful about the fact that it is not permanent…”
I have absolutely learned something of the quiet and beautifulness of the temporary.
Yesterday I did not meet anyone in the world to ask out so I diddled on over to Match.com to check out what was happening on my languishing profile and throw a handful of seeds into the wind via match-message, see if anything lands in a place where it might grow. Wellllllppppp, let me first show you what I found in my inbox:
I will let this stand on it’s own.
I just want to send a message to all of you who are in relationships who enthusiastically and sympathetically suggest to your hot, single friends that they should do some on-line dating that this is actually what you are suggesting. ♥
I sent 2 cheery, thoughtful, and profile-related messages to 2 men who are probably out of my league. They are both younger than I am, they are both reportedly successful and mature; if they actually resemble their photographs then they are very good looking too. I’m not exaggerating with sarcasm here, this is an actual common complaint of the on line dater- people lie about their age and misrepresent themselves with old or freakishly hot pics of themselves. For the record, my profile has integrity in both areas- I have a variety of pictures from really good ones to just regular ones, all are from the past 9 months, and I do not lie about my age, or the fact that I want to have children.
Interestingly, I had a first-time phone conversation with a man I met on Match about 6 weeks ago today. He and I have been texting (blech) for weeks, and we even had a date planned for V-day but I freaked a little and canceled because we had never spoken and there was all this snow… I don’t regret it, if I had not canceled, I would not have had the experience with the yogi-architect ✭ Anyway, we had a great conversation and are going out later this week. He seems really sweet, and really alive- plus he is in a band and covers some of my favorite Bruce Springsteen songs. Not to mention he has the holy trinity of attraction: crooked teeth, dimples, and over 6’0.
I *did* have tea with the yogi-architect from Valentines Day. He is also a rocket scientist (not joking) and lives both in NYC and LA, which has been my ultimate dream life for some time. I really enjoyed his company and would love to see him again. He has a great smile and green eyes that sparkled some when I amused him. Now, factually: he was an hour late (he did call, and I was late too) and when I left, he gave me a soft hug and said something very ambiguous like ‘we’ll be in touch’- so I’m not holding my breath. I probably talked too much; and too much about myself at that. However empowered I may currently be, I also understand that it’s his move now.
Who knows what the day will bring. The sun is shining in Brooklyn and I’m going to bring my a-game to the book store and the coffee shop, see if I can’t charm a fella or two. Reminding myself right now that the object is not to get a date, but just to exercise the muscle of communicating my attraction.
no i do not love you 