Cliffhanger

In my experience, communication is the most important aspect of interpersonal relationships.


I did something bad today. Okay, I attempted to do something bad. I received a question via text messaging from my boss; now you have to understand that, for the most part, my boss is a decent sort of woman. But when you are constantly being pulled in all directions through competing objectives as part of the internal structure of one’s organization – well, you get to the point where you pick and choose the battles you have enough energy to fight. As I have matured in my career as a working tax-payer and all-around contributing member of society, I have come to realize that all organizations are not created equally, or with the most benevolent intentions in mind. Some are, literally, all out for the buck. At no matter whose expense – their market, their employees, their very souls. But I digress.


So I receive this text from my boss, and I sent back the requisite answer to her question. Here’s the bad thing. I typed a follow-up text. If I am being honest (which I try to be most of the time, painfully so), there was no other objective in that second text other than to inflict pain in a mean-spirited and bitter fashion. I clicked “send.”


Now, here’s where the Universe does what it does best: SMS error 97, Message ID 209. Service denied.


Dammit! I tried again. Service denied. I tried a third time. Service denied.


And then I got the hint. Shirley, stop it!! I had a moment of clarity – only for a millisecond, but it was enough – and I realized that the only thing that message was going to do was make somebody feel bad, create negative repercussions, probably come back and cause more undesirable consequences for me… and so I too understood what the Universe itself was attempting to communicate to me. And it kept me from doing unintentional harm to myself.


Later in the evening, I went out with one of my girlfriends – she had this happy hour thing for work and asked me to be her “date” for the night. The bar-slash-restaurant where this little shindig was held was jumping pretty well; it was smack in the middle of downtown and there was some tasting thing happening all up and down the drag (where the local restaurants put out some of their food for people to sample, and the crowd roams around from place to place; giving up a specified number of tickets for a plate of yummy edibles). So we are hanging out with the group, getting drinks, getting appetizers, and we strike up a conversation with a few of the guys.


Now, I have to say, being a novice at striking up conversations with random guys I don’t know very well: I was pleasantly surprised to find that there are still lots of them out there that do have the ability to carry on witty and fairly intelligent dialogue (yes, I was worried). Until recently, I always assumed that the communication thing was innate in most human beings. Turns out that was a bad assumption on my part. I always thought the whole chemistry, x-factor thing was going to be the biggest obstacle to overcome. Yes, it is an obstacle – but not the biggest. Now I am realizing that I have to vett these people a little better from the get go, because the most annoying thing that I’ve come across recently is to be insanely attracted to a guy that I can’t connect to emotionally. That doesn’t know how to talk to me. That doesn’t speak the same language of my mind. And that, my friends, is the kiss of death.


Everything we do is communicating something to the external world – what we say, what we do, how we act in various situations, our knee-jerk reactions, when and under what circumstances our emotions take control of us (and our reason takes the back seat) – and you know what, the world is watching very closely. One of the guys my girlfriend and I were conversing with tonight – the conversation (given the alcohol and the environment) turned to sex. The three of us were fairly comfortable with the intimacy of the conversation, and in the ease of one moment of self-disclosure I admitted to being a “widow virgin” for the last two and a half years – at least until recently. This guy, David, immediately processed that statement and the first words out of his mouth? “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” and I could see the sympathy in his expression. Very sincere. Authentic. Didn’t have to think about it – the words came immediately; kind of like how when you sneeze someone close by to you says, “Bless you!”


That’s exactly what I am talking about.


I’ve always heard for most of my life that it’s the sex thing that ruins relationships – don’t do it too soon because then you look like a slut; don’t hold out too long because then you come across as frigid – nobody seems to have their finger on when the right moment is between two consenting adults. But I think it’s less about that, and more about the communication. If I have sex with some guy that I am attracted to and he doesn’t see me or call me or make any effort to communicate with me for three weeks after – it isn’t the fact that the sex happened. It’s the lack of communication that will kill my motivation for any further interaction; physical or otherwise. And for all of you guys out there: if any woman ever tells you that she’s fine with “just sex” – she is LYING. To you, and to herself. Girls just aren’t wired like that. So as innocent and unattached and meaningless as you might pretend that it is, you can’t separate out the intimacy part. And communication is what drives the intimacy… just as sure as “no communication” will smother it.


I haven’t lost my sense of humor. There’s a lot of transition in my life right now, but I am still picking up bits and pieces of growth and learning along the way. So, it’s all good. Life is an adventure. And I can’t wait for next week’s episode.

One Step Closer

Saw a glimpse, not long ago
Of a man I’d like to know
A look, a smile, a brief exchange
In a flash
My senses were enflamed


What to say?
What to do?
Confused
Bemused
But then, my friend, the Universe
Stepped in
And rested her hand
Upon my heated brow


She said:


“Peace, Child
Take a breath
You’re one step closer
To your life
Don’t be afraid
Your heart beats loudly
It will lead you down
The road you wish to go.”


Questions, questions in my head
Tracking
Distracting
What does this mean?
Why did that happen?
But then, my friend, the Universe
Stepped in
And kissed me softly
As the morning sun kisses the cold, hard line of the horizon


She said:


“Peace, Child
Stop and listen
You’re one step closer
To your life
Don’t be afraid
In the stillness, you will hear
A symphony
Of tragedy and ecstasy
A familiar melody


A memory
An echo
A symmetry


Wait for it to appear.


You are one step closer.”




- Shirley D. Downie, June 13, 2011

Survival of the Fittest

Enter… Sam. Sam is the third person I’ve felt attraction towards since the Bunny’s death. In almost as many years, I figure that’s good odds. As time goes on, the idea that I won’t ever be attracted to another male always causes me a bit of apprehension. So, to get some validation from the Universe every so often that this is NOT the reality provides me with a small measure of comfort.


Sam has a lot going on. For one thing, we are the same age; foreign to me primarily because my “type” is usually a decade or so my senior (the Bunny himself was twelve years older than me). While not actually married at the moment, Sam is involved in what he describes as an “on again, off again” relationship – most interesting to me because it seems that he’s unhappy. It always baffles me when a person is unhappy, because there is a certain sense of accountability to be recognized. We all make choices as far as how to live our lives.. if those choices cause unhappiness, it seems logical to think that one would make different choices or attempt to change one’s own circumstances for the better, right? But, like other stories I’ve run across lately, the comfortableness of one’s life sometimes requires the happiness part to be sacrificed. I personally could NEVER make that sacrifice. But that’s one of the things that makes me different than most people I run across, including Sam: I am not afraid to be alone.


Sam is, for those of you who frequent the theater, the Phantom of the Opera to my Christine. I can literally think about the guy at any time during the day, and I can feel a corresponding physical response. It’s a little off-putting. And while this is a necessary requirement in any potentially intimate relationship, it is by far not the only one. It’s also pretty clear that Sam is attracted to me. But I think the most interesting thing is that he doesn’t seem to have any expectations of me. I noticed that right away. And it pulled me in.


Sam works odd hours, so most of our conversations have occurred in the late hours of the evening. This is tough for a girl whose normal bedtime is about 10 o’clock. I have to admit, Sam is not a very good communicator. It takes a bit of work on my part to get him to tell me what he’s thinking. But when I am patient and I don’t chatter too much or too fast, I notice he loosens up a bit as the conversation progresses. So there’s potential.


When we first began to interact socially, I had to give him my phone number twice, and it still took him almost a week to give me a call. At my first opportunity, I threw out the following comment: “I was beginning to think you had decided I wasn’t worth the effort.” I mean, I’ve already got self-esteem issues! Sam admitted to me that he'd intended to call me a bunch of times before, but I assume he couldn’t muster up the courage. I was slightly mollified.


I have nothing to go on but instinct. My gut tells me Sam is a good, decent, albeit confused guy. A guy I’m really attracted to. Which you would think lowers my defenses or compromises my judgment. It does neither. I trusted him enough to allow him to gain entry into my sanctuary – telling him he was pretty special, because nobody but nobody (as far as a potential suitor) gets an invitation to my house, ever – but when it came down to it, I wasn’t ready for him. “I’m scared,” I admitted. “Nobody has even seen me naked in close to three years.” Not something I like to admit, but hey! It is what it is. I can’t change the facts.


As far as taking risks, I figured I pushed it as far as I could. And Sam, he listened and he complied. He respected my choice; he left me in peace. Remember, he’s pretty much an unknown to me; I was worried he'd be like a lot of other guys – he wouldn’t take no for an answer, or he’d be pissed off at me and be mean; acting out in a negative way. He did none of those things. He kissed me, and he walked out without any drama. But Sam also left me with something I’m not sure he really intended to leave me with: he promised he would call me.


I have envisioned this future conversation numerous times in the past few days since we last saw each other. I've realized that Sam isn’t viable for a long-term relationship with someone like me. First, he is emotionally and physically inaccessible – I can’t call him whenever I want, I can’t text him for fear of causing problems with his on-again off-again relationship, and he doesn’t seem to be interested in spending any daylight hours with me. The fact that Sam is even interested in having sex with me tells me he’s probably getting very little “physical intimacy” hours at home – and the ones he is getting are probably not all that positive. But the most troublesome aspect is his tendency to accept this life that so clearly doesn’t fulfill him emotionally, spiritually, physically – in all the various ways a person should be engaged. He’s settling. Even though he’s clearly unhappy, Sam’s settling. And I think that’s the deal-breaker for me.


I’m not interested in being just a booty call. There’s a whole life that comes attached to this body – complicated, contrary at times, but also open and honest. I don’t lie. Ever. I don’t manipulate or play games. Ever. I’m never going to tell another human being how to live his own life – everyone gets to make that choice for themselves. And I am certainly not going to try and save anybody at my own expense.


Still waiting for my phone call. Chances are, this is done. Am I disappointed? Sure. But I’ll get over it. I don’t have the heart to be angry at Sam – for what? Not being the man I need him to be? He’s a good, decent, albeit confused guy. He’ll survive, as will I. But that doesn’t mean if I get another shot at it I’m not going to take it. Guess I’ll just have to play it by ear.


Is that music I hear? Or just the Phantom’s voice in my head?