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the editor is enthralled and mr. minnesota is practically mouthbreathing anticipating our next encounter. i'd decided for these next weeks just to cultivate these two, having successfully avoided the long-shot, albeit permanently local, guy. then it hit me. both guys are charming, witty, intelligent and sexually charged, (and both unbelievably receptive to my masochism -- yessss!!) but neither of them can demand much of my time, being here only part-time. i've no desire to churn through a million dates. besides, having done so well with my first forays, oddsmakers would agree i'm way overdue for a chump. so, for now, rather than clutter my calendar, i'll spend the holidays with friends, get projects done here, and begin my job search with the new year.
my heart definitely is not healed, so needs to remain safe. that's my responsibility and it's a big one. although initially i didn't see it, there can be no mistake my subconscious had a protectionist agenda. if either of them were more available, i might not mind, then again, who knows? i could run screaming into the night at the possibility of the big "r".
i'm still very conscious of avoiding being submissive, which is more of a struggle than i anticipated. far harder than the sexual readjustment -- although if i'd allowed myself much introspection, i'd likely have known that. i turn cartwheels to not be overly-accomodating. when the editor invited me to his apartment to dinner for tonight, i had to practically gag myself to avoid offering my services as cook. he's offering to do it, so clearly wants to... (but he's working all day, has a meeting afterwards, it'd be so nice if i...) so fucking let him do something for me. good lord, it shouldn't be that hard. yet still it is. i'll bring a nice bottle of wine, which is what a dinner guest does, lol. right? lol.
my mother would be pleased to know both men seem more smitten on their end. i'm just happy to have some company now and again. i didn't realize quite how deeply i'd missed being in the arms of a man. especially a man who is thrilled, not threatened, by my unbridled sexuality. i wonder if it's a pleasant factor of their age? i did deliberately skew older. could just be dumb luck. either way, i'll take it. sex while in like is quite fine for now.
when mired mentally, emotionally and spiritually one forgets so much of what life was like before.
for months, the burden of my sadness and stress, my absolute unmooring from anything sure, dogged me. it compromised and compressed me. there were days i felt physically constricted and had trouble getting enough oxygen. it took a conscious effort to sort of untwist, upwardly wind and breathe deeply. i wavered through each day, a hollow-eyed ghost dragging both a past and present of immeasurable weight. getting out of bed seemed a herculean effort, and often the most conflicted moment of my day. i felt little. not numb -- that implies a certain low-level buzzing. but empty. a papery husk easily blown apart or away, unlike my more perceived nature as a walking bundle of the sunday funnies. more than once, i had zero recollections of incidents and conversations in which i'd been supposedly involved. it was peculiar, (and no doubt very alarming to others) but i felt too detached to worry about it as much as i probably should have. in hindsight i may have been licking the edges of a fugue state.
beginning in the days right before sending the albatross out to the winds, i couldn't/wouldn't/didn't sleep. that i chalked up to simply wanting to avoid oversleeping and missing early obligations that required adherence to an unfriendly train schedule. after the final paper was signed and i was free, i felt inexplicably bound by gravity -- feet on the ground, yes, but more like i was sailing in the air, light, light, lighter than the finest kite.
down to bed at "normal people" hours, yet more or less i was simply impatient between the sheets, waiting to get up at "normal person" time. perfectly alert at 2:00 or 4:00 a.m., i'd still rest a bit more before rising.
thankfully, my energy level has down-shifted to less manic, but i'm still amazed at how little sleep i seem to need. without the one-two sledgehammer whack of too much after-work wine and the previous unbearable heaviness of my being, i'm a little dynamo, lol.
all those little things i didn't/couldn't do, or even see, are all getting resolved, one at a time.
my mind and my spirit feel so keen and clean. i know it's time, and i'm truly thankful i am at last able to put so much to right.
in many (most?) ways, my brain doesn't seem to function like a woman's. in regards to matters of lust and love anyway. when looking for sex, i was always more mercenary than missionary. i'd spot him, circle him and get him. it wasn't often i'd need or want to see him again, and they frequently got a quick boot out the door after services had been rendered. dismissal combined with my refusal to pass out my number or make even the vaguest of future plans weren't balms to ego, but hey, that wasn't my responsibility now was it? so many of them got befuddled having long spent their mornings foisting off girls for whom they'd simply had a hard-on. more challenging was the guy who really didn't get laid all that much, so thought i "liked" him. eesh.
lust could nearly always trump the "need" to like. then again, i'm sufficiently intuitive to know a total asshole after a few verbal volleys. if the energy and reception were good, i assuredly was not picturing him painting my picket fences 5 years hence. mr. right now served a valuable immediate function, yet also one unknowable and intangible to him, because he allowed me to remain unhurt and keep the privacy i so fiercely need. and you know what? men are fun. the flirting, the sexual tension, the spark in his eyes when you both know you've got a live one? it's juicy and delicious.
parsing men and sex with my friends, i've long known i'm different. even in college, while they were once again waiting for last week's rugger or frat boy to call, i was already peeking around the corner. one-night stands never made me feel confused or guilty. i was using them, so placed no further expectations. quite simple.
right now, my formerly predictable brain is doing a funny thing. a chick thing i think!
as mentioned yesterday, i've chosen two men as starters. both are attractive, wildly intelligent, witty and determinedly pursuant. lots of notes and texts and calls. remembering details and offering endearments. so what's wrong with me? one makes me grin every time his name pops up on some electronic i.d. while he was in japan, i crawled out of bed at all hours to communicate across 10 time zones. he's gotten me gifts from the london and tokyo trips that have delayed our meeting. i've gotten him a little token -- something that speaks much of my mind. dinner tomorrow cannot come soon enough. the other fellow? i feel like he's pestering me! when he calls i answer reluctantly and so not to seem rude. i postponed our today date, feigning exhaustion. truthfully? i'm choosing pristine presentation for the editor tomorrow.
since neither of them have pressed the flesh, shouldn't i have them both on equal footing? how does this work? it's not my usual backward dread of someone actually liking me. clearly both seem to, yet i'm firmly focused on the one. essentially, they've had equal opportunity to impress, yet i worry i'm judging through shallow criteria. however, in my real face-to-face daily life, i do know instantly when people are worth my time. my career has offered a sufficiently protracted and painful lab study of human behavior, so i feel no conflict about snap judgements.
for now we'll call him the long shot, since the editor has taken such an early and impressive lead. in one of our 1st conversations, he quickly dove into a lengthy pedantic lecture on organic farming. the rapid descent and failure to come up for air were truly off-putting. generously, i chalked it up to nerves. it happened again in another chat. i cut through the wind, explaining my experience with some men of a certain level of intelligence. they (i judiciously avoided using "arrogantly" here) assume they're smarter than most, so feel an overtly oppressive need to explain their ideas. being as sharp as i am, i find this immediately tiring, and moreso offensive. he was, lol, taken quite far aback. he admitted it was a weakness of his, (ok, impressive, that) and he was astounded i recognized it so easily.
eureka!!
ok, phew, i'm getting this i think. if we'd met the old-fashioned way, long shot wouldn't get a 2nd shot. i'd fuck him and forget him. i'd silence the windbagging, get him in bed and be done with it. yet he insists on courting me, so it feels already like it's gone on too long. looks like i have made up my mind about him after all!! BINGO! should i have sex with him anyway? when we meet and i'm racing in conversational circles, will he be able to play and ride the cyclone with me? i never was one to string men along, so feel a small pang of heartlessness if i drop this guy without even a cup of coffee. when i began this thing, i determined i would not be the notorious disappearing internet girl. i just don't know if i still want to play by my old rules, or am i writing a new playbook?
oh, i like living again. :)
i had to start somewhere, right?
there aren't enough hours in the day to wend through all the notes, so clearly those who got in the gate early have an edge. coherence increases their odds. as does humor. unlike when i was younger i don't feel the need nor the desire to overcrowd the field and have a different date for each night of the week. (although it would be easily possible... maybe after the holidays, lol.) i've winnowed it to two. i'll meet them both this upcoming week. it's sweet and it's exciting. the calls, the notes, the new. that girlish flutter i haven't felt in so long.
seemed prudent to have a practice run. a man with whom i could flirt and fuck and not be committed further. but the truth was i needed something a bit more. that 16-year-old girl in my head was worrying, "will he like me?" i needed affirmation that i am attractive. that after all this time, other men might/could/do/will want me. not one for half measures, i took the deep plunge. it needed not to be overthought. it needed to be the modern equivalent of spotting a man across a crowded club and deciding he was mr. right now. he'd written several times. he travels here for business, so stays in a hotel. the picture of his chiseled abs was the clincher.
first i went to a hilarious performance with a good and very funny friend, thus was in great spirits. the "date" had a presentation for work anyway, so it was fine that neither of us was available till 10ish. in the cab over to our meeting place, i was grinning uncontrollably. there was a bit of worry, because i'd not seen his face, just the 6-pack. a speck of doubt, blown easily away.
clever fellow, and clearly not on his first hook-up, he'd hidden himself out of the way to spy me. but he walked right over, visibly pleased and smiling, and gave me a friendly kiss on the cheek. i can only imagine the relief on my face must have been obvious too. not my usual type being very fair, but undeniably and ruggedly handsome, with the astonishingly defined outline of his athletic body visible even under his loose-fitting turtleneck.
it turned out to be easy! he's funny and smart and i now know someone who knows yanni. more valuably, someone who appreciates the camp factor of knowing yanni.
conversation was brisk and amusing, with enough touching of arms and knees to know all was well. when at last i asked, "what time is it?" he deftly replied, "time to go."
it wasn't at all awkward or clumsy or strange. after so many years of being trained and used in a particular way, i definitely worried that my wiring had been irrevocably altered, that i was damaged or broken. my doubts have been allayed. i'm fine. he seemed to think so too. being with him again would be delicious, and both his morning demeanor and subsequent notes have said the same. having heard plenty of horror stories about these sorts of things, i can't believe my luck.
monday is dinner with the editor.
without jinxing myself, i'm almost beginning to believe the tides may have shifted and good things are coming my way.
fingers crossed, folks.
iraq, iraq, iraq. baker, bush. obama. mitt and maccain. death tolls, dead spies and daniel shorr. ack. it was an unconscious flip of the dial. just like that, i powered up the i-tunes trove (one thing i have left from the g.c. anyway) and madness, michelle and melissa were bouncing off these old walls, and making my closet re-do seem like a breeze.
i was twang-a-langing along with "the grass is always greener", when i realized. it hit me like a piano on the head falling out of buster keaton's 12th floor window. it has been months since i've
played anything but the saddest of songs here. and even those soundtracks remained mostly quiet.
declan will still have to wait, but seems like just about everybody else can croon in my ear now.
spooky old town, and a watchful witch allowed the sun to crack the clouds yesterday just as my shark and i were concluding our business.
the removal of the detritus from that house, (stuff i'd never wanted anyway -- accruals from so many lifetimes ago -- but my mother insist i take and keep) was so cleansing. the acuity of my shark a joy to watch, and an astonishing relief to be on the protective shoreline, out of his reach. he said, "jump," and they just kept leaping higher and harder.
i grew lighter with each piece tossed into the rubbish truck, with each swirl of my initials on yet another document, till i nearly felt too excited to be confined by gravity and felt i might nearly crack apart with happiness. one forgets how one used to feel, and how easily joy used to come. smiles at strangers and warmth watching little kids stiffly bundled against the cold gamely playing tag despite the clumsiness of goretexed little sausage arms.
at last released from the slim tether that the g.c. had selfishly and duplicitously held all these months (and i in my weakness allowed to remain around my neck); liberated from another toxic chef; freed from the unbearable weight of the albatross; at last able to breathe unconcerned that even my very exhales would be collected to pay something off; lots of flirty e-mails and calls to brighten my days and bring intrigue to my nights all add up to truly a new beginning.
little that is here was with me before. i am not burdened by anyone's misperceptions about whom or what i want. i am elated at the openness and the challenge of whom i will become.
so, i gave myself the emotional equivalent of a pbj on wonderbread. yes, it was indulgent and selfish that i hid from the world for a day, but all that slowed was my breathing. outside everything clipped along. it's been the strangest sensation of being on a hurtling train at the same time as treading water. everything that has happened has been so far out of my control, all i could do was worry and feel trapped. uncertain. transient. inadequate. defeated.
the call finally came and my shark has won. the waters around him are clean as a whistle and it's once again safe for me to go swimming. it will be over in days, which after nearly 14 months will be but a blink. i finally feel like this place is mine, and will stay that way. after 12 months here, i'll at last unfinish packing and paint. no snow-shovelling or grass-mowing in my future.
i've got an in-box full of suitors (most not worth a second thought, for sure) but it still makes me feel better. too much time in that neighborhood made me forget how many straight men are actually out in the rest of the world. my nights and weekends are free for now, so why not spend them with someone? or some-two or-three ;)
better. getting better...
