He squeezed my hand as
I was trying to leave.My willpower is at
moments down to a fiber.I slowly pulled
my hand away and kept walking without looking back.I don’t know how long I can keep his vows.
Our attraction and affection
have been building for years.So when he
put pressure on my hand, I felt it elsewhere.It’s that bad.Or, it’s that
good. Yes it is.
I’m not looking for a
husband, that’s for sure.But that
doesn’t mean I feel okay about being with someone else’s husband.I don’t feel comfortable with deceit.It feels too badly.Being truthful is typically how I get into
and out of trouble in my life.It seems
the only thing worth it.
I don’t even understand
what many men mean by being married, why they propose, and why they feel the right to hold
that status while making a mockery of it.I’m not talking about
people who are straight with their spouse where both are open to both of them having
other involvements of a romantic nature.
From the attitude I
received from his spouse the first time we met, and then the nauseatingly phony
like I receive to cover her genuine dislike, they do not have such an
arrangement.
Sometimes I feel like
yelling to all of the mutual acquaintances who have decided I am guilty, “I am probably the
reason we haven’t done anything, you
assholes.”He’s suspected of having a
history of not letting his marital status stop him.That’s not my history/herstory.When I am in a monogamous relationship, I am
monogamous.If I don’t want to be, then
it’s time to wo/man up and say so.Yes,
it is painful to hear, but it’s better than allowing someone to build his/her
life on a loved one’s lies.
I’m not in a
relationship.I’m the free one.Still, from the looks, I’m held more
accountable than he.That’s just not
right.
If he is ever available when I am also
available (and I don’t mean 20 minutes between work and a dental appointment; I
mean not in a monogamous relationship), I’d love to snuggle up to him and feel
his warm skin on mine after a play, great dinner, and bottle of wine.I believe he’d know how to inspire a woman’s
body.*His hugs are delicious.
Oh this is bad ‘cuz it
could be so good.
*Though it is 2013, I should not take
this for granted.I recently heard a man’s
description of sex that so deeply disturbed me, saddened me, and chilled me. My head dropped, my spirit sunk, and my voice
locked. It was as if the past century
never took place. There was zero
acknowledgement of the woman being a human, never mind a sexually alive human
with needs to fill and pleasure to have.Sex was referred to as a price she pays.I felt such compassion for the women before me and before laws against
marital rape and for those who don't feel the right to use the law. The effects of oppression go very deep. The description had
nothing to do with pleasure for her.No
mention of a clit. No mention of her orgasm or how to inspire one. It was like a male
porn flick – the kind that would make me cry and make my libido go back generations. The kind where she'd be hurt (and not in any fun way). The kind that would make straight women
ashamed of our orientation.At this
rate, between unavailable and unacceptable, my best bud and I do think it is
possible I will die a born-again virgin.
(& only the kind who can handle a
frank talk on sexuality with a dash of humor)
I have been feeling
rather flattered lately. Received many
compliments on my photos. A few were
from certain individual men who can at times make me tingle. They now live far enough away that I can
tingle safely. Little chance of actual
contact. We are all so scared of having our hearts stomped on in one way or
another... especially if earlier stompings are still interfering with
free breathing.
In spite of much, I
have to continue to acknowledge my attraction to men. It may or may not be the whole story, but it
is real. I sometimes question my
heterosexuality. I have wondered at
times if I were raised in a free society where neither orientation is
considered the right one or the wrong one, would I be bisexual. Life isn't over, so who knows what lies ahead.
In my senior year of
high school, I joined a filmmaking group and turned out to be the only straight
girl in the group. I went to an all-girl high school where most of the gay
girls were out, at least at school. But,
like in the larger world, the majority of students identified as heterosexual. So it felt shocking to me to discover myself
as the heterosexual minority of one in the filmmaking group. I remember feeling weird the way I would if
everyone had been Chinese or anything identifiably different, and for a moment, I wanted to leave. In my head, it went something like, "If
you leave now, it would be only because everyone is gay. Is that okay with you?No. That's
not a good reason to walk out when minutes ago you wanted to make a film about
the school just like everyone else in this room. If you leave for no other reason than they are
gay, well that is what prejudice is. And they get to make a film, and you don't." So I stayed.
We became friends. They tolerated so many straight girl questions
of mine and did their best to answer. One
of those girls is a woman I am still friends with now. We don't see each other as often as we could I
suppose. But we are in touch, and it is
heartfelt. She and her love came to see
me in a production of Vagina
Monologues.A whole bunch of us went
out one night to see lesbian theatre in the South Bronx.We have mutual admiration for each other. When I told her how patient they were back in
high school with my questions, I learned that they didn't see it that way at
all. They felt so good that a straight
girl wanted to know them and didn't look down on them. They found me so open-minded. When introducing me to other people at times
back then, they'd say, "She's straight, but she's cool." I have since
of course had many gay friends, but that group was my first real experience. So my world wasn't as closed as it might have
been. It has typically had people of
many kinds in it. Plus I live in the
Bronx, New York which makes it conducive to having many different kinds of
people in one's life, helping shape it. Just ethnically speaking, over 20
languages are spoken in this borough. It's
a real opportunity to meet the world. Anyway,
this was the long scenic road to saying that back in high school, I was
introduced to the songs of Lavender Jane (Alix Dobkin). This always remained in
my mind somewhere.
One of the men I was
referring to earlier calls me from time to time to express something
good-natured.When he lived in the same
city as I do, he seemed to want to run toward and away from me at the same
time. I may have felt the same. It was
too close in emotional time to all the trauma of my own hell to feel normal.
Not even sure what my normal is anymore. On one of these calls, he knew I was going
through something hard and he left me a message reminding me that I have a good
soul and that I should have mercy on my soul. His sentiment sounded so sincere, not clichéd,
and actually made me feel better. It
just reminded me that I have the power to let myself feel better much of the
time. And I did have an open heart to
receive his words. At times, I have
rerun that message in my head just to help my shoulders go down and my
breathing flow. I wondered again why we
didn't get together when we could have. I
am trusting God/the bigger picture/the universe that things went as they needed
to for both of us. He's with the woman
he is supposed to be with probably. They
had years together and then were on a break (yes, like Ross and Rachel though
Rachel didn't see it that way -- I was always with Ross on that one). Starting with someone new can feel like
work.But I waver, going back and forth
where I feel platonically toward him and where I don't. In terms of dating, it didn't ever get off the
ground. I don't count a pizza after a
poetry reading that we did not plan to meet at but happened to both go to as a
date. But in terms of beginning to get
to know each other beyond the poetry readings, that did start. And now though he's in another state, he seems
to want to continue. I seem to have
trouble. I think because my heart is
open and tears so easily flow, and I can't stand the sad sack I can be. Yet he seems to be the kind of man with whom I
can feel safe.He has experienced my
anger and disappointment, my affection, my concern, accepted an apology from me
that I needed to give, heard my prose, my poetry, and my comedy, and still says
I’m awesome.I get teary just re-reading
what I wrote.
In some ways, I have
returned to some degree to where I was in my emotional growth before I got
swallowed into a relationship that expired long before it actually ended. I remember in my twenties wondering about me
and the possible bisexual inside. Back
then, homosexuality was just getting off the mental illness list. I was born into a very problematic (yet
special) set of circumstances, and anything else that wasn't considered
"normal" was going to tip the scale of what I could bear. When I was 17½, my family (excluding my
mother) disowned me for dating a black man and not lying or feeling
ashamed about that. It was awful and yet
maybe necessary for me to have had a shot at life. A former therapist and I once called it a
disguised blessing. Anyway, I cannot
imagine that dating a woman would have gone over well. But none of that was conscious at the time. I was a product of the mindset that straight
was normal and gay was abnormal. So even
when a girlfriend in eighth grade wanted me to teach her how to
tongue-kiss, the best I was able to do was explain and draw diagrams.
My grandmother had
gotten upset that I wasn't upset over attending an all-girl high school. It was one of the better schools of my
choices, and she knew that. She wasn't
sorry I was going there, but she was uncomfortable with my comfort. I assured her I liked guys but not 9th through
12th-grade boys. I had little tolerance
for the immaturity. I dated older males.
That wasn't thrilling to her either,
understandably. Everything was layered
with complication.
Anyway, getting into
what turned out to be a very long involvement (that turned into a marriage of
sorts) and staying together beyond the point of it being healthy, stunted my inner
growth. So many things I used to wonder
about have now returned to my consciousness. Many things I used to want to do are in
process. Months after the separation, I
got cast as the title role in "I Am Tricky Nicky" -- a very off
Broadway play by Adam Samtur. We were
reviewed twice, and my performance was highlighted in both reviews. So while I was enduring a terrible time in
some ways, my teenage child getting used to go against me in a divorce and all
sorts of emotional horror, blessings were present in other ways. A long ago person found me, Blake, and that is
another tender-hearted story, but the part that is relevant here is that he
told me that the universe would not abandon me. I held onto that tightly. The mix of things taking place definitely felt
like loved ones who had passed over were pitching in to help me along with
people right here on Earth.
Recently, a man who
only knows me on line told me I was "ridiculously appealing." I assumed that, based on other things he said
with his male friends, that was his cleaned up choice of words. It did feel good, I admit. He's in another state too. First, I wished he
was closer. Then I was glad he was
farther. Oy. In many ways he is ALL WRONG for me. Red flags are flying. I told God, "I get it. I'm being given an opportunity to see what
I've really learned about myself from past decisions and if I can apply it. I get it, God."
So how am I doing on
my midterms you might wonder. The miles
help. Yes, I need the help. There is something very appealing about a high
testosterone man. It lasts for a short
time. If it goes on longer than it
should, I feel zapped. But when it's
good, it's sexy. He sent me this which
probably expresses what I'm trying to better than I can.
That, to me, is one
of the hottest, sexiest, most intense and beautiful 5 minutes on video. But does she look happy!?Yet that emotional turmoil and intensity is
home to me.It’s real and somewhat
tortured and beautiful and passionate; nothing fake. Exhausting though.
Back to off-video
real life. He said he might be able to
visit family in Brooklyn for a week this spring. I said, "Hey! Get back!" We laughed.Days later, he spoke of that falling through and how he’d have no place
to stay.Hmmm.I said nothing.
I do like a man with balls, as
I've said to friends in the past, but getting the size right on those balls --
that's the challenge.
Some things may just
have to remain fantasy for now or for forever or until the right level of
alcohol changes that.
(Not me in the photo – just in my head do I look that fit.)
I don’t even understand
what many men mean by being married, why they propose, 
