Wednesday, September 10, 2008

So close

I wake up in the morning filled with so much enthusiasm and passion for my future that it is palpable. I can't seem to focus on anything else. I live and breathe it. It consumes me and when friends and family need me, I see that they feel they are talking to a zombie. Because the only thing I can seem to radiate back is that I am engrossed in my own mind.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Growing Pains

“You were my best friend, I’ve never going to see you again, you really were a pearl in my world, Maureen. Maureen it’s hard to explain…never gonna see me again and you’ll never meet my new friends”. - Sade

As I was cleaning out my room earlier this week, I played this Sade song on repeat as I looked over old photos of a girlfriend of mine. I lingered over photos that spanned a ten year friendship that has recently ended.

I met her ten years ago at my first big girl job at the mall.

She was the coolest girl I had ever met and I thought everything she did or said was the truth. I had never had a big sister and she took the role because she had never had a younger sibling being the youngest herself.

We became thick as thieves.

All the things a young impressionable girl needed to learn she taught me. I learned the importance of weed in socializing and calming one’s craziness. Another lesson learned was how to underage drink at bars by always ordering clear drinks so authorities would think it was Sprite. I was groomed to become the sidekick and my little heart was full.

She’s the kind of girl that is every girl’s best friend and ever guy holds a shrine to her in his heart.

She would fight for me and would protect me fiercely but as time passed our roles shifted and I felt as if she stopped being on my side. We stood face to face as if in competition and I hated it.

Sometimes you have to end relationships in order to save the love between you both.

My mom made a comment that I obsessed about my friendships too much and that I needed a man in my life to occupy that time. At first that statement bothered me but I realized that my mother had never had real true blue girlfriends. In any relationship that you love passionately you are going to fight, make up, grow, change and hopefully learn from each other.

We each have to look at one another and think about if the person that loves us is really giving us advice in our best interest or is it sparked from another motive. Every person no matter how much they may love you can come from a dark place and not realize it. It’s important to know who you are to not get swayed in a direction that is not the path you desired.

We struggled to show the other how we both changed and to not hold this image of who we once were. I wanted to show her that I no longer needed her advice on every aspect of my life and she wanted me to see that she no longer wanted the same things she did when she was the girl I met ten years ago.

I hurt to think that she played such an important part in my life and I’m struggling with the void of her as if a vital organ has been removed from my body.

I could fill a book with stories, secrets, spells cast, laughter, tears, words and love from our friendship.

As of right now I want to reach out to her and let her know that I miss her dearly. That even though at this time in my life, I might not be capable of being the friend she needs but I adore her and one day we might be able to be on the same page again.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Letter to That Guy

Dear That Guy-

Sometimes I feel that you show up and rescue me. I feel great pain and great joy in regards to you. I think about the time you read me a letter you wrote on a napkin at an IHOP. You were sitting across from me. We both showed up and I think I ordered a hot chocolate. You wrote the sweetest words. You told me that I was impulsive and it didn’t scare you. You were shaking as you read and so genuine. I wanted you so much and was so happy to hear each word that escaped from your lips. I can’t that letter anymore.

It’s been 5 years and we still find ourselves tossed into each other. We live a block apart from each other. Once you told me when thinking of me you thought “She’s so close that I can almost smell her”. You use to come visit me in secret because you had a girlfriend. I use to see you and her out. I would search your face for the love you felt for her and I would never find it. I looked for you to just slip your hand on her back affectionately but that never happened. One night out you ran into me and my friends and even though your girlfriend was near, you uncontrollably caressed the top of my head. I spoke smugly, ready with words about how so great my life was now that you weren’t apart of it. But it seemed the words didn’t resonate. You just smiled and petted me. You said “I love you” with that caress. It pissed your girlfriend off. Later she came up to me, I’m sure to examine what captivated you. She went on to tell me that you had never discussed me to her. How can she not recognize that you not being able to speak my name are love? She squirmed next to me. But it was clear to me that she loved you. She longed for you to notice her; for you to be lost in her.

You came to me and at first we reminisce on our relationship. You told me that in reflecting on your life, you can say the time you were with me was your happiest. You said that having me was like Christmas morning everyday. You said you were so happy that your heart couldn’t contain it. I stared at you from across the coffee table remembering with you. We made love for the first time in 5 years and all you could say was how beautiful I am. You stared at me and ran your fingers through my hair. You held me and let me cry when I was upset when another relationship didn’t turn out the way I wanted. You let me cry against you when hopes I had held were demolished at someone else’s whim.

I think to myself that maybe you and I just like to walk down memory lane. But, just when I think that our relationship is just memories everything changes. We discuss our future plans and goals. We talk as if we are dating. I crave you and we go to a concert where the band plays every song that reminds me of your face. I send of my many messages that you and I need to leave each other alone. Time passes and we end up right back into each other’s arms. We make love again and we tell each other our foreseeable future. You tell me that my quest for love is not being carried out in a way to receive it. I hold those words in my heart.

That Guy, you are one man that I feel I will always love but I realize you are right about my quest. I write to the universe what I want from you but realize it is me that will change. The next week from that note God finds me on a plane and I say to my heart that I will begin to let you go. I try. I’m trying right now as I write this. I want to reach out to you. To say exactly what, I don’t know. It’s not reality for use to be one. We have separate lives. The last we spoke you were like a sun ray shining into a dark room. Your laughter warmed me. You said things that no one would know about me. You know about my depression. You told me to fight it. You believe. I must move forward. I pray for you now. Your name is constantly on my tongue. I wish you the best my love. I wish all the blessings in the world my heart. I love you.


This girl

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Who are you today?

I have a tendency of loving the potential in men. I have the superhuman ability to not see what they are in reality but instead see all the dormant attributes they have and all the things they could accomplish. Most of the time these men are troubled by broken families, drugs or just wanting to continue to play the part of Peter Pan.

Taking a look at myself from an outsider I wonder what makes me long to be with these individuals. It leaves me with the conclusion that I cling to men that show me the slightest “disinterest”. Forever trying to live up to what they need for them to feel complete.

  1. Father Figure

I’ve played the role of a father figure more than George Michael. I’ve been the protector and the one that plans ahead and sets the tone for our future.

  1. Breadwinner/Cheerleader

Sometimes I will even wear the short skirt sans a blouse and pom poms to show support for my man. I’ve held down a household for two, paid for cars to be fixed, tickets across the world and clothes needed for a job that was never got.

  1. Psychiatrist

I should never take on this endeavor but I’ve found myself trying to “save” men who masked innumerable tribulations with alcohol, coke, weed or infidelity. I put myself last and sacrificed my soul over and over so they could feel “good” about themselves.

My ever changing roles have left me mentally tired of relationships. I realize it’s the relationships that I cultivated and the men I picked. I put these men in a position over me and gave them everything until my marrow is dry just so they can say the words “I love you”. I’ve grown somewhat and some of those masks I can no longer wear and some I don’t choose to place over my face .

Monday, June 30, 2008

Everything She Wants

My best friend Melinda and I recently met for dinner at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants. We needed a night filled with booze and girl talk and their cozy, but comfortable outdoor patio was just the place to fulfill our wishes. It was a balmy summer night with a warm breeze that kept the sweat from pooling in my bra. I was in good spirits having just finished off my third strawberry margarita and enjoying my BFF’s lighthearted company. We were discussing our current state of love affairs and laughing about all the men we thought were our Mr. Right but ended up being the complete opposite. She looked over our many empty margarita glasses, smiled and asked, “So if you could put together your Mr. Right, who would he be and what would he do?”

I took a few minutes to contemplate this oh-so-important question before answering her, “He was a nerd in high school, but now he’s a surgeon and cool.” She and I went back and forth adding attributes we liked to our Mr. Right, both acting as a modern girl Frankenstein but instead of our men becoming killers they held professions that allowed them to buy us Range Rovers in our favorite colors.

Later that night, while lying in bed, I decided to make my own ad lib fill-in for my Mr. Right. I thought it would be a useful tool to keep and remind myself of what I really want when faced with a Mr. He’ll-do-for-now.

I pulled out my blue steno pad and came up with this:

My future love will be a Doctor because I probably won’t ever have full health coverage. In school he was a Star Wars loving, saber collecting, Wu-Tang reciting nerd. When he walks into a room his theme song will be Scenario by Tribe Called Quest and his favorite sport will be soccer (have you seen those guys’ bodies???). In his spare time he will deejay at a local dive and spends most of his money on whatever I want. He is _5’11 and has a bodybuilder’s chest with hazel eyes and a 9 inch cock. He is great for me because he knows the worst of me and still thinks I’m the best thing that ever happened to him.

I’ve seen enough movies about witches to know that when someone wishes something, writes it down and places it under a candle – good things can happen. I think women inherently know how to cast spells, so I fold up my piece of blue paper and place it under one of my candles.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

I Am Obsessed With Sex.

I Am Obsessed With Sex.

To give you a glimpse into the kind of girl I can be when the mood strikes me – I’m giving you limited access inside my head. Earlier today, while standing in line at the grocery store, I observed the clerk as she held up an unusually large cantaloupe and asked the older woman next to me the million dollar question: “Can you believe how big this is?’

I felt a that’s what she said moment coming on and had to put my hand over my mouth to stop it.

Yes, I am a 13 year old boy.

My latest outlet for my sexual obsession had been mulling over the invites for casual sex on Craigslist - complete with nude pictures and surprisingly entertaining sexual suggestions. My curiosity had outgrown my daily reading over the seedy personal ads of Craigslist and I decided to sign up for a Swinger’s lifestyle website. I’m not sure what I wanted to come from it, but it was something for me to peruse to help beat the boredom of being jobless.

After laboring for hours over my profile, trying to think of the best way to bait the most swingers, I came up with a pretty impressive write up. It’s just like fishing…except instead of fish, I’m reeling in poles…( comes and goes.) I doctored up a picture of myself, a description of likes and dislikes and of fantasies that I longed to fulfill through the website. I clicked submit and waited for my biters.

I received about 10 emails in the first 20 minutes. I must say that I was impressed - as impressed as any girl would be putting herself up on a Swinger website.

Most of the mail was from single men who immediately gave me their address, time to meet and contact information. I pictured what the hell I would do if I actually did answer one of their emails.

“Hi, I’m Lyn and yes I would like to have sex with you. What’s your name again???”

The other emails were from real hard core swingers. The type of couples who live in the Woodlands with their 4 kids and 2 dogs and who claim to be a 100 percent in love and only looking to spice up their 20 year old marriage. Responding to these emails takes more work because they want only other swinger couples and they require a quasi friendship before fucking. So my little make believe profile which had me named April, has now transformed me into a housewife married to a successful, but emotionally distant surgeon. April, the housewife that lunched, shopped and toked most of her days, wanted an outlet like this to get rid of some of her frustration. You know… because I was always being ignored by my pretend surgeon.

I spent hours on end browsing profiles of all kinds of shapes and sizes. There were profiles with perfect bodies advertising taglines like “Insert Here” to older ones that had “It still works”. I joined in on chats and engaged in full blown conversations about what my husband and my sex life was like, what I was going to cook him for dinner, and how I could get us invited to the next swinger party being hosted at “Candy and Jack’s”. I was determined to get “Best New Swinger” added to my profile.

I spent 14 hours in one day attached to my laptop waiting for new mail and what the next person or couple had to say about my profile

I had a sickness.

Another 24 hours passed and I found myself without Internet access. I figured I would be okay and would just swing by my parents at the end of the week to check up on my online life. I thought my absence from the website meant my inbox would be chockfull of emails from all kinds of people just waiting for a response from me.

Did I mention I had a sickness?

I imagined all that unopened mail full of salacious words ready for me to devour. I started to salivate and twitch and needed to get a hold of a computer a.s.a.p.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I found myself at the unemployment office. Now, I usually go there to look at my obligatory job searches and fax over a w-9 form or two. But that day I was smack in the middle of two men who really looked like they were down on their luck and searching for their next meal ticket. It is there that I was trying to look at my newfound swinger’s website filled with pornographic pictures plastered up as soon as you log in. I was trying my best to position my body so that neither of the men, if they so happened to glance over, would be able to see.

I stopped before I started to read my mail, which was only 5 unread and 2 of those 5 from someone I had spoken with already. I minimized the screen and, in that moment, realized that I could actually be using this time to find out what I really want from this time in my life. Or, shit, I could, at the least, go get my nails done.

I brought the screen back up and ventured over to my account where I could find the button necessary to delete my profile.

It was with that swift click that my life as April the Swinger ended.