This Could Get Messy

I am a plan-making kind of gal. If I were one of the lesbians from Rent, I’d be the one that’s a lawyer. Sure, I’m an artist and a dreamer and all that jazz, but also like planning ahead, being prepared, etc. I wouldn’t dive off of a cliff without a safety net, a parachute, a parakeet, and an ambulance on stand-by. And while visitors to my humble abode may sometimes draw the mistaken conclusion that I take housework lightly, I have been known to scrub floors on my hands and knees and line up the towels by size, color, and function (after ironing and carefully folding them of course).

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.

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2 thoughts on “This Could Get Messy

  1. Online or onphone relationships are difficult because of the ease by which some people move into and out of those types of relationships. For so many people, online or onphone relastionships lack authenticity; therefore, one or both people are less committed in earnest. I am sorry because you certainly did not need to have someone play with your emotions when your emotions have been messed with by your sperm donor. You have a good attitude and I am happy to hear you are going to be cautious with your heart. There is someone out there who you will meet and who is going to commit to you and you to him. For me, I waited until my children were grown and out of the house…then my hubby now and I took our friendship to another level and we were eventually wed and are our happily ever after. An old assed nurse once told me that when you look for love, she hides. I laughed, thinking wtf does she know. When I quit looking, love had been right in front of me. I am not telling you to stop searching, but I hope you realize that you are enough. You are strong and smart and have so much to offer others and that so much that you have to offer doesn’t have to be for or to someone in a love for ever relationship. Do your supervisors at Walmart know you have a BA?

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