I want to write about men.
They’re every where.
Sometimes, I’m still a sexual being. A female. I hate putting on high heels, getting dolled up, and believing that suddenly I’m gorgeous. There’s a formula for the female, you know? Straight female? This is what you do – lots of make up – tons of hair product – anti-wrinkle – botox – electrolysis – manicure – pedicure! How dare you go out without make up?
Seriously? I hate it. I got some serious hate balls wrapped around this whole femininity / masculinity bull shit. The other day it was a holiday party at work – I wasn’t sure how it was going to unroll but in the spirit of the holiday, I put on make up, a dress, and even curled my hair. Then, I took the bus to work to preserve my efforts. Had I gotten on the bike, it would have been melted make up – completely messed up my hair – and probably kept me from putting on a dress. So, I get to work and I get complimented. “Oh you look so pretty.” “Wow, you wore a dress!” The comments go on and on. The guy in the wheel chair whose been trying to convince me to uh… go out with him told me that I looked pretty and beautiful, twice. Fuck you. Why do I have to be spending tons of money and time on my hair and make up to make you think I’m beautiful? I’ve had it. This society’s standards make me want to barf, seriously.
I only have an hour pass to be on this net connection right now. I have to really channel all this negativity out of me.
More on men:
The two I wrote about in my last blog: Bryan (my most recent life-threatening attempt at monogamy) must have read what I wrote because he’s leaving me alone now. I’m still feeling the same way about him as I did last I blogged which is that I’m mad at him for letting me go. I’m mad at him for not seeing how he was overwhelming me with his loud, angry music, his mindless movie choices, and the way he refused to tame his monkey mind through meditation. I’m mad he didn’t see the importance of working with me to prevent the overwhelm I experienced. I tried to tell him – I leaked out signs but wasn’t fully aware that I was approaching explosion level until I exploded and deflated our hot air balloon. I’m mad at him for letting my angry words destroy our hot air balloon, but it is all done. What’s happened, happened and cannot be undone or remedied. Our capacity to work together depended on our ability to communicate about what we’re experiencing together and we just could not do it. His withdrawal from me was explained with, “It’s outside influences.” I’m mad about that too. Fuck your outside influences, Bryan. I’m busting my ass for us and giving it all I’ve got and you’re not even seeing me any more. I was right there, next to him every day, but it was like I was invisible (until I put some heels, a dress and some make up on). I got trampled. My fault for not seeing my own vulnerability and catching myself in time. I’ll take the blame, but the ego still rots over the anger it harbors for him.
The ex who I invited to move up here and be my roommate / lover / friend? He wrote and declined my invitation in the most gentle, non-disturbing way. When I’d written him I told him I felt creepy for having the feelings I have about him after the whole thing with Bryan and also because I’ve known this other guy for well over a year and never once has he told me that he’s into me. He does not have feelings for me, he just likes to have sex with me occasionally. And, occasionally, we hold conversations that qualify us as “friends” but mostly, I write him and he doesn’t really respond. He’s not engaged on an intimate level. That’s why Bryan was able to keep me from him for six months, because Bryan was willing to engage on a level that my musician friend could not. Clearly, that additional engagement level was not the answer to my settling down and being satisfied in a relationship, either. Bryan started out engaged but eventually became elusive.
I’ve dated a number of musicians. I loved them all, even the ones I didn’t sleep or dance with. They capture my soul because I am a dancer, and my soul craves music. It is when my body is engaged in movement through music that I most embody pure life force, that I experience my greatest freedom from human suffering. But this musician wants not to be tied to me, and maybe for that I should just be grateful. I can’t afford him, anyway. I’ve noticed that keeping a man requires a lot of gift-giving. You have to buy them things and show that you’re always thinking about them. Bryan told me he loved it when I’d buy him healthy supplements, or juices, or anything that promoted his health. When my musician friend was here, he told me he was all out of an expensive medicine and I felt bad that I couldn’t afford to help him buy more. There was another musician I dated – wanted me to buy him a banjo. I didn’t. I lost him. I can’t compete when it comes to keeping a man and maybe it goes back to my gender-typing hatred where I am pissed because I have to dress up and put make up on my face to be attractive to a man. Fuck you. So celibacy, right? I intended that from the moment I left Bryan, but fell into bed with someone, anyway. And that someone doesn’t want me in his life. So, back to square 1:
How do I do celibacy and just have man-friends that I don’t sleep with?
Yesterday, I had coffee with Clark. Clark is a bicycling enthusiast. I met him on Tuesday when I was out exploring my neighborhood on a bike ride. I approached him while he was unlocking his bike in front of a store I was going to visit. I asked him if there were bike racks or if I had to tie off the sign post he was untying from. He gave me really helpful advice, told me he was a handy man and then gave me his card, because I asked for it. I knew that I needed help getting my new shower head put on because I don’t own tools. So, Clark and I had coffee at 9am. I told him my life story. He gave me a fraction of his. He appeared to listen but I gauged that he didn’t understand about 80% of what I shared with him. He just did his best to stay present. I did my best for him, as well. He came over at 2pm and he tightened up my new shower head so it would not leak. Then, he cleaned out the aerator in my bathroom sink to improve the water flow. It was so bad that I hated using the sink to brush my teeth. The pressure was barely enough to rinse my toothbrush. It’s slightly better now. Clark had tea with me and we decided that we would go on an adventure together today. We’re going to take our bikes, ride to the light rail, and then go explore some art studios. Pretty cool. This came up because a friend of mine from Phoenix, Jonathan, is an artist. Jonathan has work on display at a gallery in Denver and I mentioned to Clark that I’ve been meaning to go see it. So, plan’s set for today at 2pm. The gallery closes at 5, but okay Clark, we can wait until 2. Sure. I’m compromising. I want to go before it opens, he wants to get there just before it closes, but okay. Watch me let go of what I want to do to accommodate him, and here we go – let’s start the cycle all over again. I’m not attracted to Clark. I see his kindness, his sensitivity, and his humanity and I appreciate all of it, but I don’t have the desire to touch, kiss, or otherwise sooth him. Is my attraction driven by my ability to see the soul’s need for soothing? Is my attraction driven by the way another human being touches the world around them? Maybe. I’m still exploring what it all means. What do I want?
A guy I met in Phoenix just before shit fell apart between Bryan and I (in fact, this guy may have affected our falling apart – he got into my mental space and pissed me off heartily and Bryan didn’t like it.) This guy was a potential employer. He was looking for someone who would act as a secretary from home – listening in on conference calls and taking meeting minutes. It was an unusual business model he described and it intrigued me but also red-flagged me because I suspected the man was looking for something more than just a secretary. When we met for the interview, he wanted to talk about divorce and whether or not it’s worth it. He’d been married about a dozen years, I think he told me. They had a daughter together who was going to require close attention for the rest of her life – never able to function on her own due to a birth condition. The child is under age 10, and the wife is miserable. She can no longer love her husband or enjoy his company. Basically, the love between them, he told me, is gone and he no longer enjoys his life. He wants to move out, share custody, and have his freedom. So, his freedom relies on his ability to find a woman who is willing to help him look after this needy child on a regular basis, or to create a physical relationship that works around his time with his daughter. I warned him that the divorce would not bring him the peace and freedom he hopes to find. Divorce is something people do thinking they’re going to find more happiness, but it never works the way you think it will. There’s often more pain than pleasure involved. I’m still feeling that from all the divorces I’ve been through – my parents’ included.
So, I mention him because he wrote last night while I slept. Said: “Probably not awake and sorry if it wakes you. (You should tell me your bedtime – smiley face insert) I started to write a blog and thought of you. I thought it might help me to write it down. Hope your finding what your looking for out there.”
I get bothered when people say “Hope you find what you’re looking for.”
I’m not looking for anything. I’m just taking what the universe brings my way and working with it. Experiencing it. Sometimes hating it. Other times, loving it. I blog about it. I think about it. I meditate on it and let it go. And last night, I finally went to a yoga class. Thank goodness. I spent $39 to get an unlimited month at Mudra Yoga. I showed up late to the 5:30 Hatha Yoga class last night. The bike ride took longer than I’d anticipated. The teacher was nice enough to let me in, anyway, without attitude. She had two couples in her class. It was interesting. Both couples appeared to be beginner yogis, both terribly out of shape. I practiced behind them and tried not to notice. The class was super easy and simple but each stretch, I felt. I knew it was exactly the medicine I needed but I missed my former yoga teachers. I missed their sound tracks, their voices, the way they inspire purity, love, and peace in me. I missed my favorite studios. I missed my favorite yoga teacher. I felt the lack of what is no longer accessible to me, but I felt the joy of getting just what I needed instead of just what I wanted. I am a messy, imperfect human being. This is my messy, imperfect human journey, and I am grateful for it. Over and over again.