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Hot and humid, with no sign of relief today other than jumping into the lake. I would love a big thunderstorm to come in and chase the mugginess back off to parts east and south of here. It's Louisiana weather, makes me want to listen to Clifton Chenier and eat crawfish. Sticky weather also always makes me crave sex and popsicles, in whatever combination you could imagine. I'm without a steady lover these days. The ram has been too clingy, something that doesn't mix well with the heat, no matter how many popsicles you might have. It pisses me off when someone tries to push me into relationship paradigms that I know are not my cup of tea. My understanding of what I want now, what I need, is not caprice. The state of what I need and want continuously changes and shifts its borders; I realize that. I am a difficult woman to love sometimes. I realize that as well. I always hope that I prove myself to be worth the effort in the end, even as I know I have occasionally failed at that too.
It fascinates me to see that so many of the men (and yes, it is men moreso than women who tend to do this...I make note of this because I would have guessed it would have been the opposite) I have been involved with try to change me, to convince me that I must want other things. What woman doesn't really want to be married after all? Ummmmm...that would be...me. Not that I'm knocking marriage. It seems to be the cat's meow for some. It's just not anything that I am interested in doing again. I am happy living here with my boys. I am happy with the solitude that I have on my own. My life is so full of all sorts of things that I hardly know what I'd do with a full-time man around the house. It ultimately always becomes a burden to me, the lover becomes another responsibility, another child to care for. I'm sure this is something inherent in me, rather than a failing of the men themselves. I find each one of them quite tedious in the end, which is sad for both me and them. It sounds so callous, doesn't it? But I can't stand the idea of wasting time, mine or anyone else's. What is gained by that?
It's not about loyalty, either. I am a person whose loyalties often outlast her relationships. I continue to love people long after they have ceased to love me, even when I am the one who walked away. I was a defiantly independent child. I can do this by myself. I can do it. I grew into a strongly independent woman, even as I would sometimes cling to things myself. I grew into a strange mix of gregarious social creature and oddly guarded hermit. Those attributes which make me a fierce friend also make me a difficult lover. I demand patience where I have little. I want attention, but not so much that it makes me uneasy. These are not hypocrisies so much as dualities that I recognize within myself and deal with as best I can. I give as much freedom as I demand. I have no problem with other people coming in an out of my beloved's life, or my own. I have found that the more breathable the interactions, the better I feel. Is it a matter of avoiding commitment? It is probably a matter of avoiding a certain kind of commitment. One that would place restrictions on my interactions with others. One that would demand certain levels of attention and responsibility that I don't care to undertake right now.
I'm also endlessly amused by the number of people who tell me, "You just haven't met the right man yet." Haven't I? I believe I've met several of them. All of them amazing. All of them good to me in ways too numerous to catalog here. They were all the right men, as I see it. Soulmates, each of them, to varying degrees. Ultimately, I was the one who was too full of movement to sustain anything over the longterm. I was the one who grew restless and resentful in almost every case. The absolute irony is that the one man who was the least right of any of them was the one I married. I'm still trying to figure that one out!
It's not that I don't believe in true love and all that jazz. I do. I've had an example of it right under my nose since I was born. My parents are soulmates. They have been together since they were teenagers and are still endlessly fascinated and sustained by one another. They are so much in love that there is hardly room for anyone else. I envy them their small world once in a while, but mostly I worry about what one will do without the other when the time comes. I worry that one will choose not to be without the other when the time comes. There is also a selfishness to that sort of companionship and closeness that I find distasteful. Perhaps because I was born and have always lived on the outside of that circle. There was always only really room for two. I don't begrudge them that now, but I have chosen quite purposefully to have a life where there's always space for unexpected guests.
So it's hot and muggy and I think about sex, which leads me always to think about love. Not that the two necessarily must go together, but I'm quite certain that this is the case in the best of situations. And if there is a Mr. Right wandering around out there with a sense of independence, breathing room to match my own, and a big box of popsicles...send him my way, won't you?
It fascinates me to see that so many of the men (and yes, it is men moreso than women who tend to do this...I make note of this because I would have guessed it would have been the opposite) I have been involved with try to change me, to convince me that I must want other things. What woman doesn't really want to be married after all? Ummmmm...that would be...me. Not that I'm knocking marriage. It seems to be the cat's meow for some. It's just not anything that I am interested in doing again. I am happy living here with my boys. I am happy with the solitude that I have on my own. My life is so full of all sorts of things that I hardly know what I'd do with a full-time man around the house. It ultimately always becomes a burden to me, the lover becomes another responsibility, another child to care for. I'm sure this is something inherent in me, rather than a failing of the men themselves. I find each one of them quite tedious in the end, which is sad for both me and them. It sounds so callous, doesn't it? But I can't stand the idea of wasting time, mine or anyone else's. What is gained by that?
It's not about loyalty, either. I am a person whose loyalties often outlast her relationships. I continue to love people long after they have ceased to love me, even when I am the one who walked away. I was a defiantly independent child. I can do this by myself. I can do it. I grew into a strongly independent woman, even as I would sometimes cling to things myself. I grew into a strange mix of gregarious social creature and oddly guarded hermit. Those attributes which make me a fierce friend also make me a difficult lover. I demand patience where I have little. I want attention, but not so much that it makes me uneasy. These are not hypocrisies so much as dualities that I recognize within myself and deal with as best I can. I give as much freedom as I demand. I have no problem with other people coming in an out of my beloved's life, or my own. I have found that the more breathable the interactions, the better I feel. Is it a matter of avoiding commitment? It is probably a matter of avoiding a certain kind of commitment. One that would place restrictions on my interactions with others. One that would demand certain levels of attention and responsibility that I don't care to undertake right now.
I'm also endlessly amused by the number of people who tell me, "You just haven't met the right man yet." Haven't I? I believe I've met several of them. All of them amazing. All of them good to me in ways too numerous to catalog here. They were all the right men, as I see it. Soulmates, each of them, to varying degrees. Ultimately, I was the one who was too full of movement to sustain anything over the longterm. I was the one who grew restless and resentful in almost every case. The absolute irony is that the one man who was the least right of any of them was the one I married. I'm still trying to figure that one out!
It's not that I don't believe in true love and all that jazz. I do. I've had an example of it right under my nose since I was born. My parents are soulmates. They have been together since they were teenagers and are still endlessly fascinated and sustained by one another. They are so much in love that there is hardly room for anyone else. I envy them their small world once in a while, but mostly I worry about what one will do without the other when the time comes. I worry that one will choose not to be without the other when the time comes. There is also a selfishness to that sort of companionship and closeness that I find distasteful. Perhaps because I was born and have always lived on the outside of that circle. There was always only really room for two. I don't begrudge them that now, but I have chosen quite purposefully to have a life where there's always space for unexpected guests.
So it's hot and muggy and I think about sex, which leads me always to think about love. Not that the two necessarily must go together, but I'm quite certain that this is the case in the best of situations. And if there is a Mr. Right wandering around out there with a sense of independence, breathing room to match my own, and a big box of popsicles...send him my way, won't you?