jeudi, octobre 04, 2012

Wait, wait, don't date me

I don't know if I'm a realist.


Wise about my limits.

Burned too often when I thought I was way brighter.

Or just really, really tired.

But I find myself trying to convince men -- often -- that there are many good reasons why they shouldn't go out with me.

Distance is a big one.

Kids at home another.

I've been having a spirited conversation with a man online about the fact (true, that) that I wouldn't spend a lot of time at his house because his (older) children are living there. I am not sure he understands my scruples. I'm not sure I understand why he had to find this out before we met.



My complete and total lack of fetishes.

It  doesn't matter -- I'll find a reason to push someone away.

It may be that I want to see if they are strong enough to resist -- or at least to raise some questions.

I am aware that I have been hurt by callous behavior often enough that I make the bar for getting to know me very high.

Once a man, woman or kid gets past that, I am very forgiving and patient -- perhaps too patient. You are so kind, a man said to me (and about me) once -- as if  the word "kindness" was an epithet.

Now that I am engaged in a learning experience that is so demanding I am both keyed up and tired almost all of the time,  I am more willing to send the dragons into the moat than I was before. So, of course there are more men interested in getting to know me.

Even though, you know, I am such a poor risk, an unusual choice, a quirk they will regret, their soon to be favorite mistake.

It's the way of the world.  Be slightly unavailable, and the world wants you.

I find myself saying "noli me tangere" more often -- and waiting to see who runs, and who decides to walk towards me, instead.

mardi, octobre 02, 2012

The friend she needs

If he were
Friend indeed
He would note
Her teeter-totter
Unsteady gait
Dutch courage against
It oft seems
Night's thief
If not pledged himself
To forgetfulness
He would ask
See there she is
 The spiral
Up and down
Straight path unseen
Just over that hill hope lies
Dungeons, dragons, moats
in vivid reds and pale whites
She builds
Leaving afterwards the bitter taste
The same body count
Her war against the enemy inside
If he would look
Not wiser
He could reach out
As she once did when he lay crushed
But he walks on
Chooses oblivion
As his companion
While she
Wars against the darkness
Sometimes nimble
Often sliding
He turns away
He will not see.