In January of last year, though, I dove off of a rather high cliff without planning ahead–figuratively speaking. I enrolled in graduate school against the wishes of my spouse, taking three courses and ultimately earning decent grades in all three. The past year has seen the dissolution of my marriage, a second cliff-dive as I drove across country with both children and an empty bank account, a new job with a familiar company…
I’ve even tried to move past my relationship troubles and work on something new with someone new…but for all of my higher education I am apparently still rolling a weak stat for “street wisdom”.
I feel silly and stupid for bragging about the guy I was “dating” (that’s in quotes because it was strictly an online relationship; no in-person face-to-face interaction). I feel stupid for being vulnerable…no, he’s not an asshole in the same way that my estranged spouse is an asshole…but who would have thought that a guy I met online and had long NC17 conversations with would turn out to be having similar conversations with other people he met online? Oh? Everyone? I’m not necessarily mad at the fellow…just confused.
Maybe I’m not giving the guy enough credit. It is possible that, once our relationship moved from cyberspace to mutual space, he’d only truly have eyes for me…but I am not in a position in my life to be able to take that chance–with anyone, for any reason, period.
So…life goes on. I don’t hate the guy. We’ll still be friends (I really do hope). And, who knows…maybe he’ll figure out what sort of man I need and become that sort of man someday and actually do the things we talked about in giddily whispered what-if scenarios over the last few months. In the meanwhile, I spend quality time with a sexual partner I’ve had since I was a young girl; she knows everything about me and my body (I’m quite in love with my Phal Ange S…).
There are other men in my life, but none in the physical sense, just people who offer sage advice, a metaphorical shoulder to cry on, a compliment or two, but most I wouldn’t give anything more than a friendly smile in the way of romance. I do not refrain from physical encounters out of some misguided loyalty to my lawfully wedded…I just don’t want to further complicate my life with the addition of yet another hungry tummy or a disease for which there’s no cure just because I had to get my jollies off with the first Jethro or Jesus who came along.
Still…at night alone in my boudoir wearing a spaghetti tank and booty shorts or the outfit I was born in, I sometimes find myself fantasizing about various persons and possibilities, and not necessarily in a carnal sense (although this too could be true at times which might possibly upset the aforementioned interwebnet boyfriend, but–really–he has no room to complain at this point…). Certainly, if I didn’t have two beautiful angels to think about, I’d board a plane to destinations unknown or sail the seven seas and I might even let my vulva become a popular tourist attraction if it suited my fancy…but as a mother I must be responsible and sensible.
I work hard every day to ensure their safety and security; I shell out thousands a month on food, shelter, transportation, clothing, toiletries, utilities…my bank account sees more action than my clitoris these days…but I take care of what needs to be taken care of and I keep the complaining down and out of their earshot for the most part. Sometimes it’s hard, like when an overtired preschooler starts telling me off in a mixture of real words and gibberish or when an also overtired toddler tries to take a cue from big sis and scale the safety gate, only to have it fall over, scaring her but leaving her unscarred.
Sometimes it’s utterly delightful, like when either of the above progeny decide to go on a hugging frenzy. Always it’s worth it–if I had nothing else in the world I’d be independently wealthy with a lifetime’s supply of my children’s laughter.
I’ve made it through a hard time in my life. There will be hard times to come. There will be amazing times to come. I will push forward and continue to try my hardest, sing the loudest, get all As, make the grade…you hate me ’cause I ain’t afraid…
Alanis Morissette–Oh, this could be messy.