Some lovely readers with high morals have found my blog offensive and non-conducive for a PG audience. I don’t know if I should be offended and angry or pleased by the fact that someone is actually reading this. To all moralists out there, well I am who I am and will not apologize for my actions or beliefs. At the end of the day I’m the only one that has to live with my self. Yes those in the general do figure out into this equation, however since no one really knows about my deep, dark and yes dirty secrets they are protected and shielded away from this aspect of my identity. At the end of the day if I can get a good nights sleep without the burden of my actions churning away in my head giving me bouts of insomnia, I’m safe from the burdens of my conscience.
I’ve been meaning to write for the last few days, but to be honest I’ve been too depressed to express my feelings into words, when I’ve not been depressed I’ve been too lethargic to type. I’m not a sex-crazy maniac, I have a normal life, I have a family that I adore, I have a job that I love and I have friends that I care about. I want a normal life with normal things. Normality eludes me time and again. Just like any 20 something I desperately want the joys and comforts of a strong, stable relationship. I want a kind, understanding man to come home to at the end of the day. A man that will hear me bitch about my work day, who will understand my frustrations as an artist, a man who will be my accomplice in my hunger for the unknown, a man who will share my passion for adventure and life. Unfortunately, I haven’t men the man who will be all these things and then make passionate love to me when I’m done expressing myself and run out of words. What am I to do until I meet Mr. Right? Is it not okay to be temporarily satisfied with Mr. Right Now who meets at least one or two of the above criterion until my prince charming prances into my life with much pomp and fanfare?
I’ve made my peace with T. I have realized that just because you meet someone that you share a lot in common with, doesn’t mean that they are necessarily right for you. What is it then that makes the perfect relationship? Is there even something called the perfect relationship? Should I be satisfied with something that gratifies me to a certain degree and compromise on the rest? Does anyone really know what is the perfect recipe to avert a relationship disaster? I certainly don’t have the answers to these things.
For all my pessimism and screw-up’s in life, within the core of my being, shielded and protected from the world lies a pure optimist. I know that I have the infinite capacity to love, care and forgive and I know that one day I will meet that person who will recognize my potential to love and will be a willing accomplice to step into my eccentric existence. In the mean time I shall keep my fingers crossed and keep my eyes open.
What I was really hoping for when I crawled into T’s sheets was the chance at a meaningful relationship. Will he ever find out about this now that he has so unceremoniously dumped me? Never. What he did find out while we sipped chai on the oceanfront was that he is exactly the kind of man that I don’t need in my life right now. He was actually quiet taken aback and somewhat offended by my bold statement and I was actually very glad about it.
There was no begging and pleading, no false desperate claims of “ Oh honey, I think we can actually make this work, please, please don’t leave me.”
I stood strong and proud, he looked a tad bit disgruntled and taken aback. I mustered all my dignity and proudly stated that what I wished for more than anything else is to restore the equilibrium and balance in my life that he so ceremoniously took away. In order to do that, I didn’t need to see him for a long, long time. One day we might even be friends, but right now I needed to be far away. Then I walked away, sad but relieved. I had made my peace with T.
Yes there were a lot more words exchanged, lame attempts at justifying ones horrid behavior. “ Gosh, I’m so emotionally messed up.” Isn’t a good enough excuse to play with people’s feelings. Sex complicates everything, whether one would like to admit it or not. I’m not one of those people that can have meaningless, sexual relationships with one or multiple people. I’m not cut out of that rock and honestly I’m not. Yes, I’m a liberated, independent woman that is truly and utterly proud of who I am and what I stand for, yet at the end of the day past my views and beliefs lies a thinking, feeling, breathing, hurting sentimentalist. She is just as important part of me as the rest of me. This sentimentalist empathizes with her friends 20 something life troubles and her mothers woes at getting old. She feels sad when she looks at the half-naked child on the street corner begging for some spare change and wishes desperately to do more to make the world a more tolerable and fair place. The thinking, feeling creature that nests within me makes me more human and I hope wish and pray with all my heart that she never leaves me.
This sentimental being within me also assures me that no matter how many times life of people fail me, or I fail it and them there will always be a chance to make something wonderful in the future. This undying hope that I have in humanity makes me give people a chance time and again. I will never stop believing in this tiniest capacity for good that each and every one of us possesses. In this ugly, ugly, cruel world these small acts of humanity that remain unknown to the world at large that make miracles. And I for one believe in miracles.
I don’t believe in permanence, I don’t believe in anything forever. Everything changes, it’s ought too and it will. It’s nature’s law. What I do believe in is making the most of the temporary state that I am in. One-night stands don’t figure into this equation. I rather be no stand than a one-night stand in anyone’s life. I am better than that.
I’m not mad at T for his deception that would be giving him more importance than what he deserves. What I am really annoyed at is my own lack of judgment and the emotional aftermath of it all. This post is striking the nail in the coffin. This is the final, written closure to a sour experience.
In five years, he will be just another chapter in my book and I hopefully at a healthier, happier place.
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