Moving to El Paso, working in a used record store, goin’ to the movies with Tommy, clipping coupons. That’s you, trying to disguise yourself as a worker bee. That’s you tryin’ to blend in with the hive. But you’re not a worker bee. You’re a renegade killer bee. And no matter how much beer you drank or barbecue you ate or how fat your ass got, nothing in the world would ever change that.
– Bill The Snake Charmer Kill Bill Vol. 2
Having a vast array of topics on this blog is very important to me. But the basis of this blog is, and has always been, life and the way I see it. No matter how rough or gruff I might be, I’m still a fiery blooded human female, and as such, love factors into my desires. It doesn’t guide me, but the want is present. I like everything about relationships.
Except for actually being in one. The idea of joining with a like minded soul and creating something bigger than we both could have imagined sounds awesome. I don’t even shy away from the work involved in making it work. I’ve tried to confront my fears. I was in a marriage with a guy that I thought was okay. I’ve been in relationships with guys whom I loved (and love) dearly. I take no issue with making amorous intentions known. Unfortunately, after that, there is a very large “Now what?” that looms.
As a single person, I feel like a supernova. There’s never been a situation that I couldn’t either climb out of, or “get by with a little help from my friends.” My autonomy gives order to my chaos. I’m most at home being a “renegade killer bee.” It allows me to always be on the defense. As such, even when I reveal my vulnerabilities, I have the tools to protect them. One of my dearest friends, Feminista Jones, jokes about me taking an “all my life, I’ve had to fight” stance toward people. It’s true. There have been times when the only person willing to protect me, was me; even from the dudes I was supposedly in love with. My relationships, each and every one of them, have frankly ended based on the fact that I am too perceptive for my own good. Blissful ignorance has NEVER been my cup of tea. I’m not trying to just have a warm body until all the feeling runs out and it’s time to find the next warm body.
It’s not even a tale of woe. We all make choices, and with me being such a hard ass in my life, and having a desire to experience at least some semblance softness in my life, my choices have been made on nothing but sheer optimism. I can own the hell out of the fact that I am just as culpable as my past significant others, including and especially my ex husband. It hasn’t mattered if the person was deserving. I feel how I feel, and it’s on him to feel however he wants about it. I still have that to an extent. I believe in and act on the power of my feelings. My reliance on intuition is bonkers.
I just also happen to believe that I’m the slightest bit feral. Restrictions make me antsy. The idea of sitting with a bunch of couples on glorified play dates, or even worse, completely being absorbed in a relationship because I’ve lost myself, makes me want to rock in a corner. But…so does the idea of being in an “open relationship.” It leads me to believe that whatever thing I want, simply doesn’t exist. I’m such an odd chick, that’s not a far fetched idea. I was having a conversation with a friend the other day, who coincidentally does not want me to give up on love, who said that with good things for my career being on the horizon, I don’t want or need a relationship right now. I had to admit he was right. When I look at the number of unreturned voice mails on my phone as we speak, that would probably make for an unhappy boyfriend.
I’ve spent so long leaving myself open to choosing the mythical “us.” I realize that there is so much building I have to do within myself, building with another person seems somewhat ridiculous. I’ve taken breaks, but I’ve never fully closed myself off to romantic possibilities. I’m not lost, so there’s no need for me to find myself. But, today, I choose me. I won’t even put a time limit on it. I choose me until it’s time to do otherwise. There are about a million and one other ways I can think of to love people. That particular way, however, isn’t an option I care to place on the table.