Couplings: Yes? No?

I am holding things up with a special "friend" because I don't need anything else going on in my life right now.  And because I don't feel about him what I need to feel in order to go to the next level. But. I also kind of would like something else in my life. Here's the thing: I'm too freaking lazy these days to even write more than three pages a day; can I even come up with the energy for a relationship?

Last night, I told my girlfriend that being single is confusing to me. For a while now I have been alone, but it's only lately that I feel lonely. I want to not be single, but I just cannot handle any drama. She says that if I am thinking about relationships, then I am probably ready to be in one. (Like that helps me out, right?) She suggested that I try looking at the pros and cons to being coupled up. (Not that I am legally un-coupled from my last mistake yet. And I'm not calling any future loves "mistakes." Let me just shut up and get on with the post...)

PRO:

• It's nice to have an "other" in your life. Other than a friend, other than just a friend, other than someone you really only like.
• Being part of a couple is nice. I think that, deep inside, we all want to feel "claimed." (And don't give me that crap about how that sounds. Keep your opinions on that to yourselves; this is the blog where I get to spout mine.)
• Right now, I have the affection and friendship, but a deeper relationship brings in deeper and more meaningful things. You can only go deeper with the right person.
• I need a partner because I'm not freewheeling. Maybe because I have old-fashioned values, I like commitment. I like sharing trust and hope.
• I could just be all woman in my world - taking care of the female stuff on my life - and have him be the man. I am damn tired of worrying about shit like the crazy sounds the car is making, trying to get all my groceries from the car to the house, breaking something that I have no idea how to fix, arguing with asshole male salespeople... There are just some things that men handle better. (Again, swallow your opinions or rebut on your blog.)

CON:

• I'm not yet legally untangled. I don't know why I am procrastinating on that. There is a theory floating around that I am using my "marriage" as a barrier. Don't know.
• I don't like being a possession. For some reason, I have always gotten with men who end up wanting to smother me. Claiming me as your loved one does not mean chaining me as your property. 
• There's that whole thing about families and friends. That is probably the worst part of getting into a relationship - you don't just get each other, nooo... You get drunk Uncle Earl and a cousin who has horrible table manners. And, trust me, you cannot hide the family forever. Those freaks come out at night and the daytime.
• There's that whole thing about the first time you burp in front of each other. It's rude and should be avoided, but it is eventually going to happen. You can't always hold off on some things. (Actually, there is an upside to this one: Once you get the first embarrassing "Oops, 'scuse me" over with, you're either seriously okay with each other or not.**)
• I have many flaws and one of them is that I am critical of other people's flaws. I'm such a short-sighted, selfish bitch sometimes. The things is, I always get past a lover's flaws, but it's a process. (Remember the old Ellen DeGeneres joke about getting irritated with a lover after an argument and thinking of his flaws? "So annoying. That breathing he does, in and out...")
• My feelings are tissue-paper thin. I want a partner who is honest and speaks his mind,  but I hate getting used that. 
• I don't know if there is a decent man who can put up with the total mess that I am. Like any woman, I can get a male, but it's tough to get a man. I've had the worst kind of male already, which is why he was able to put up with me; next to him, I was a super prize. Nope. I need a guy who can deal with my whole Seven Dwarves kind of personality: bitchy, witchy, touchy, fussy, moody, cranky and snide. Hell, now that I think about it, I'll be lucky to find a man who won't sit up at night trying to think of ways to kill me in my sleep.

You know what? Maybe I need to just hold off on a relationship for now. Looking over this list, I see that I need to just work on myself for a minute. Maybe I will use the solitude of the coming ice age that we call winter to do just that. (You think I am exaggerating, but, it feels like winter starts in October of one year and ends in June three years later.)

Peace

--Free

** Funny story about this kind of situation. A female friend of mine seems to get gas from just breathing. She spent the first year or so of her marriage blaming her "toots" on her old, sick dog. When the dog passed away, my friend would almost get ill trying to hold things in until her husband wasn't around. I don't know if she finally got honest about this - or maybe she's blaming the cat now. I don't know why we women are so repressed; my ex-husband used to fart in bed and hold my head under the sheets.

Sympathy, Empathy & Love

(It's raining here - again - and I'm in no mood for human company so Kita Kat & I are hanging out, having some deep thoughts. How ironic is this post subject considering I'm not in the mood for humans?)

###

With the way people are acting these days - heartless, crazy, totally immoral - I've been examining my own heart and soul. I do this every now and then because my mother taught me to. I had to be a teenager when she first gave me the talk about being more than someone breathing up the air in the world. It's important, she used to tell me, to take a good look at yourself every now and then. Need to make sure you're all right with God, self and others. Need to make sure you haven't forgotten to be a decent human, planet co-resident and all that. 

A part of being decent (according to my mother, and therefore according to me) is to have sympathy, empathy and love.  Each has their own place in a heart that's not frozen solid with selfishness.

Sympathy is defined in many ways, but it comes from a Latin word meaning "to have common feelings." (And, yes, I had to look that up once.)

It's easy to have sympathy without having a heart for others. We all have common feelings about being broke or pissed off or in love. My having a feeling in common with yours does not have to mean that I give a damn about you.

I am too lazy to look up "Empathy," but I have always considered myself an empath (whether it's a word or not), so I'll give you Free's definition: to feel with another person. That's it. I love being an empath and I hate being an empath. I love that it can give you a joy that you might have missed out on. I hate that it also can hurt. It can pull you into and under the weight of someone else's misery. (Do I wish to lose my ability to empathize? Nope.  I don't think I could live without it. It is what Christians were taught by Christ. He came, not just to die for us, but to feel as we feel. But that's for me and my beliefs. You have your own to deal with.)

Love is defined all over the place, but is (for me, at least) still undefinable. The word itself comes from Latin for "to please." That makes sense. Love is what it is to each individual. "To please" me is different from pleasing the next or other person. (I really hope this is all making some sort of sense.)

I don't think it matters how we define anything as long as we keep the essence of what it means to care enough. I don't sympathize for, empathize with or love everyone. (There are moments when I can't stand myself.) But I do care. My mother taught me that.

Peace

--Free

The Cover of Love

April, May, June and July are tough for our family. Two of my older brothers celebrate birthdays this week. Born a year and a day apart. Chuck and Joe.

My mother passed away in the month of April on Joe's birthday.

My father was born in the month of May and died in the month of July shortly after my June birthday.

Mother's Day this year is on the 13th of May.

It took me until just now to figure out why I have these blues. Happens like this almost every single year.

I really miss my Mom. Being lucky to have super-amazing people in my life, I think about the different ways we (all people, men and women) can be a Mother/Father comfort to one another. Or a "covering." I will explain that later.

Think about it, mothers and fathers just love. That's really the main job. Everything else comes out of that love. They care for, teach, lead, discipline, comfort, protect, push, challenge, inspire, encourage, advise, listen & hear, and just love. As children, we get different measures and degrees of all those things from our parents as we go the the stages of life, but it is never not needed.

Once, when I was around 30 or so, I went through some minor life crisis (can't remember what exactly) and my mother was sitting and holding my head in her lap one day. I was just laying there, watching the news with her, feeling miserable about whatever I was going through. One of our good friends happened to drop by for a visit at the time. She saw me being miserable and my mother being comforting and instantly just "got it." She didn't think was weird in any way that I had gone to my mother right after work to just curl up on the couch and be tended to. (My brothers would have joked about my being a big ole grown baby, but they would just be joking.)

As my mother always told me, I never stopped being "her baby." All of us, even my big 6 foot 1 brothers (okay, and the short one, too!) never stopped being hers. (Understand this, my mother stood about 5 foot 7. My brothers would not only stand still but stoop so that Mom could smack on across the back of their head. I think the last time she probably did it on a regular basis was when they were around 16 or 17. I know because they all laugh and tell those stories now.)

My father was just as bad. He didn't "baby" the boys, but they were still his "kids." My sister & I? Now, we were still "his girls." (Up until 2 months before my father died, he sang to me. "My Girl," "You Are The Sunshine of My Life," and "Sugar Pie, Punkin Pie"... My dad sang his love for me.) I have a picture of Dad and my older sister. She is all married & grown, but you can see that, to him, she is still one of "his girls." (And I will tell you something that means nothing at all to me as far as our family love: my dad was my sister's step-dad. People who knew us for, literally, 40 yrs or more and did not know about that until my silly-assed stepmother mentioned it after my father's death. Witch.)

When both my parents were gone, my sister & I became "mothering" to each other. My brothers became "fathering."

In marriage, my parents believed that your spouse was supposed to be what some Christians call your "covering." In other words, the husband becomes the wife's comfort or her cover: covering her worries, fears, needs and dreams. The wife becomes the same for the husband, but under his submission. (I don't care what your ideas about feminism or power are. This is the way I was raised and I have no problem submitting in love to love. Love, not abuse. Been there, done that.)

Because I am now not "covered" (wasn't ever really covered in the first place by the soon-to-be-ex), I am covered by the men in my family (blood & chosen). I go to them for advice and strength, I go to them the way I would my father. Until I am loved and covered by a man I choose, I have that comfort of the family.

With my mother gone, I not only have my sister, but I have my mother's friends and my own best friends you hear me talk so much about. For some of my friends, I am sometimes "Mom." Me - Ooe of the most childish adults around!

Uh oh. Somehow I forgot where I was going with this post, if I was going anywhere at all. I think I just needed to be writing after I realized where my recent mood was coming from. Now I know.

Peace
--Free

For One of The BFFs (To Be In Love)

(Because "B" is in love & struggling with it right now, this is my favorite Gwendolyn Brooks' poem. Hey, B, like I was telling you, we can't understand love & should never, ever try to.)

To be in love 
Is to touch with a lighter hand. 
In yourself you stretch, you are well. 
You look at things 
Through his eyes. 
A cardinal is red. 
A sky is blue. 
Suddenly you know he knows too. 
He is not there but 
You know you are tasting together 
The winter, or a light spring weather. 
His hand to take your hand is overmuch. 
Too much to bear. 
You cannot look in his eyes 
Because your pulse must not say 
What must not be said. 
When he 
Shuts a door- 
Is not there_ 
Your arms are water. 
And you are free 
With a ghastly freedom. 
You are the beautiful half 
Of a golden hurt. 
You remember and covet his mouth 
To touch, to whisper on. 
Oh when to declare 
Is certain Death! 
Oh when to apprize 
Is to mesmerize, 
To see fall down, the Column of Gold, 
Into the commonest ash




B - Sleep good, sweets. It's been a rough few days, but you are going to be alright & I'm going to be alright. Alright? LOL


Peace
--Free


*Thanks to Poem Hunter.

Old Loves. Old Love Songs.

One of my BFFs (J) called me today & we got to laughing & talking about being free of old stuff. while trying to be open to new stuff.

Stuff.

Yeah, okay. Stuff is work, love and laughing.

J has some new "stuff" (of the heart, if you know what I mean) and I've been giving her a lot of crap about it. Because it makes her smile and blush. So dang cute!

Anyway, we have both recently been cleaning out old stuff. We were talking about old loves & such & it dawned on us how much a part music plays in any kind of emotional "big-moment" situation. Think about graduations & the music. Weddings and the music. Funeral and the music (especially in my "Holy Roller" background!) Not so much for births, but I guess that's because it's usually some kind of romantic music that got the drawers dropped in the first place. (Sorry, I am being crude for some reason.)

A n y way...

J and I admitted to some of the songs that have gotten us a little carried away in past romantic situations. I thought some of hers were kind of odd (I mean, Peter Frampton is a guitar GOD, but, um... I don't see how anybody gets all heated up from his music.)

Some of my old favorites were so good to me, I actually went back and listened to some today. There was Van Morrison's "Tupelo Honey" (don't ask), dang near anything by Lenny Williams or Teddy Pendergrass (as the comics say: Lenny cried you into bed with his "I love you, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!" & Teddy damn near made you jump in the bed with his "Turn off the lights!" Couple times I'd be mad at my husband & I'd forget what about once Teddy started crooning. I mean, really - "Turn off the lights, and let's get cozy" - what woman doesn't like to cuddle?), Barry White & Prince could just get nasty. Man, that's for grownups only. Al Green makes you want to snuggle a lot. And I love some Natalie Cole singing about how she "can't say no," but I start selling jewelry to support some bum when I listen to her. I can really just listen to some Shai or even some jazz to feel a mood... But that all kind of appeals to the body only. That kind of thing is great if you're twenty. At this age, I need to get my head and heart involved. (Don't ask me to tell you what J needs for that. You would fall over laughing and start Googling mental conditions to figure it all out. I will just say two words and leave you to gape: "Weird Al.")

Back to me and other semi-normal people... Some music just makes two people want to move in closer and just be together. Nothing complicated, no freaky-deaky, no mental gymnastics. Just a pure I-love-you-like-you-am-crazy-about-you-even-when-you-have-sleep-gunk-in-your-eye.

(Sorry. I don't know what's with me and the word-chaining today.)

My all-time favorite gets me deepest probably  because it's good for it all from I-just-love-you-so-much to I'm-sorry-I-was-a-bit**h (cos, um, I'm a little moody). Listen & tell me if this doesn't want to make you want to be in love...

*sigh*

I'm not even sure what the heck she's sorry about and I don't care that she's probably singing to a woman. Dang, that song just melts my heart.

By the way, I told this to J & that heffa stole my song! I tried giving her Prince, Etta James, Al Green - I was even willing to loan her Van Morrison, but noooo... She's decided that my song fits her and her new man. That's all right, I will come up with something new. Won't be telling J about it tho!

Peace
--Free

I Hate Love

I had to look twice when I saw this Neil Gaiman quote:

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

Wow. That made me think, laugh, feel happy, sad, young, old, wise and ignorant - all at the same moment.

I'm not in love, but I am in  Silly Crush mode. I thought crushes were only for the young, but since crushes are only anticipated and imagined romantic possibilities, I suppose they are for everyone. I know now that crushes are about as exciting and horrible as being in love. Yeah, so I'm with Neil on this one: I hate crushes.

Hmmm.

I suppose I need to take a big, humongous, scary, heart-stopping, death-of-pride-defying leap of a chance. I need to take a deep breath and exhale some deep words. At least then I can get on with being either happy or sad, smiling or crying. Knowing would be good. I can drown in ecstasy or wallow in  broken hopes and survive either one. I can't handle my mind wondering and pondering, my heart tossing and turning and just not knowing. I need to say some specific things to a specific someone, specifically soon...

 But not today. Today I'm going to just deal with the idiocy of it all...

Peace (or something like it)
--Free

What's Wrong With Being "Old-Fashioned"?

I am a little bit sad and a whole lot happy to say that one of the BFF's - "T" -  is "in love." Let's not think about the fact that I am jealous as hell. (By the way, I told her that and she laughed, so we're okay with it.) What I like most about T's love groove is that it's old-fashioned. The slow courtship, the falling deep, the whole thinking-about-the-future thing - it's just something I haven't seen a lot of for a long time. Matter of fact, my mom and dad's relationship was the last old-school kind of  love I'd personally known of.

I was telling all of this to a younger (40-something to my 50 years) lady. I'm thinking that, since we come from a similar cultural background and aren't a thousand years apart in age, she would understand what I meant. She didn't.

I explained to her that, to me, old-fashioned meant showing respect when approaching a person. Courting them with some real kindness and sweetness before you put on all the intimate moves. Learning to like them before you start sizing up what kind of house or car or job or bank account they have. Trying to see how you might fit into their life before you invade their life. In other words, just taking things a little slow. I mean, what's wrong with the whole, "I like you, do you like me?" kind of approach? That's way better than the usual, "Hey, baby, you looking so fine." Hell, it's more mature than that.

My friend looked at me like I was Jim Jones holding out a cup of Kool-Aid.

"Are you serious?" she asked me. (And she was serious.)

"Yes, I'm serious. Don't you want something real and mature and hopeful," I asked her. "Or do you want the sorry old pickup lines, lies and too fast to be good kind of thing?"

"Tell you what I want," she said. "I want a man with a job - a good job. He's got to look good, and he's got to have some swagger. You can keep that old-fashioned mess for yourself."

"So, you don't care if a man respects you or cherishes you - as long as he looks good and has bank?"

"Not only do I not care, I don't give a real good damn."

Well, at least she's honest. (You might notice that she is not one of my best friends.)

We talked about it a little bit more. Basically, she wants a image, not a man. She wants whoever looks good to anybody who might notice. I didn't ask, but I wonder what she'd be willing to put up with to have that in a man? I mean, could he beat her ass? Could he not really even care about her as a person?

I see so many women these days (my age and younger) who are into that "I gotta have a man" mode. They don't care if it's a good and decent man or not. One lady I know actually admitted to me that she does not feel "complete" without a man. What the hell is that about? I mean, to me, there is a difference in feeling "complete" and feeling "completed." I think we all want to feel completed. But, no, this friend says that she just doesn't want to be alone. To top it all, her preferred "type" is one with (I swear, she told me and another friend this) "A little bit of 'thug' in him." She's fifty-three years old, so this is not a youthful phase she's going through. I believe she's just a little bit crazy.

There are other people I know who have settled down with someone they are not happy with. They stay because it's "safe" inside a relationship. Or they stay because of kids - which I don't know how I feel about that. I mean, I think stay for the kids, but sometimes I wonder what good is an unhappy parent? You might be teaching your kids about commitment, but what are you teaching them about joy? So, that's a tough one and I change my mind every few days or so. But I really hate people who are just in a relationship only for the sex or money or laziness. Why be in a relationship if your soul isn't?

That's not what old-fashioned love is about. At least, not the way I know it. All I have to go on is my parents' relationship. (And let me disclose that my parents ended up divorcing, but they remained friends and never stopped respecting each other. Not ever.)

My father was an Air Force man. He was from small-town Arkansas. He was raised to love and respect his parents, especially his mother. (My mother always said to look for a man who loves his mothers and sisters. That didn't work out with my ex, but that's just him.)

My mother was a beautiful woman. She was a very maternal kind of person, if that makes sense. She loved to care for my dad and their family. She felt like he was the man and should be allowed to feel like a man. (Please, don't give me any feminist crap here. A woman can be strong without trying to out-man her man.)

My parents were a team. My father let my mother be good at what she was good at and she returned the favor. Sometimes, Mom was good at things that most men are "supposed" to be good at. For instance, Mom ran our finances. Daddy used to say that Mom could make a dollar out of fifteen cents. He'd give her the little bit of spending money (and G.I.s didn't make a whole lot of money) and always be amazed at what she could do with it. He loved to brag about how Mom could feed and clothe eight people (there are six of us siblings) and make it look so easy.

My dad, bless his heart, was not one of those men who was mechanically inclined - or whatever you call people who can repair and upkeep things. The big joke in our family was that whenever my dad did take something apart to fix it - say, a lawn mower - there'd be parts left over when he put it back together. (Believe it or not, most of time, whatever he fixed did work afterwards!) Now, I say it was a big joke, but it was a silent joke. My mother would have (as she'd put it) slapped the taste out of our mouth if one of us said anything to Daddy about his workmanship. She would look the lawn mower, or whatever, and go on and on about how "her man" could take care of stuff like that. She'd be acting like he had adjusted the world on Atlas's shoulders.

And they just loved each other. Just that simple. It wasn't anything complicated, as far as I could tell - just love.

I used to watch my parents do that thing where lovers look at each other across the table or a room. I didn't understand it until I fell in love myself for the first time, but I always know that that look means you've got something special with someone. My inner gauge for how I feel about someone now is when I want to give them that look. (Well, that, or when I get that melting feeling in my stomach when I think of them. With my first serious boyfriend, I knew I was feeling something the day I fell down some stairs while I was thinking about him. It happened at school. He'd been nowhere on my mind until we passed each other in the hallway just before I had to take the stairs to my own class. I was feeling so goofy-good! Man, when I went down those stairs, ending up with my skirt all up around my waist, I think I dang near busted my ass... The worst thing wasn't the falling, it was thinking how stupid I'd look to him if he saw. I couldn't even think about it and him at the same time without feeling so embarrassed.) Anyway.

So, I just want that old-fashioned kind of love. I want the man who is attracted to me, then begins to like me, then begins to want to know me better. I want the man who just wants to spend time with me because he likes being with me. I want to make him laugh, feel good about himself and feel good about life. And I want him to feel the same way about me.

Trust me, I've known the smooth talker. That didn't work because words alone won't sustain love. I've known the rich guy. That didn't work because money won't sustain respect. I've known the guy that pretended to be everything he really was not. That didn't work because real love can't be based on deceit. Real love is honest and maybe a little painful. It's awkward and it can be confusing and even kind of scary.

Old-fashioned, new-fashioned. Maybe it doesn't really matter as long as we find something real. I think my BFF has found that. That heffa!.

(I love you, T. Be happy.)

Peace
--Free

Mammy-made Rant (Pt II)

He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.(Elbert Hubbard)

You guys know by now that I like quotes & that one is one of my favorites. It's also a perfect start for the continuation of my previous post.
After our little falling-out, G (GWA - Girlfriend W/Attitude) and I fell back in - just like we always do. We pitch our little fits because our personalities make us almost complete opposites. BUT G & I will probably always be friends.
That's what I was thinking about when she called me up on Valentine's Day. She was at work. I was at home (and attempting to pack since I'm supposed to be headed to another state in a few weeks). I was busy, frustrated, and surrounded by my life separated into piles of "To Be Sold," "To Be Stored," "To Be Shipped," and "To Be Trashed." I snatched up the ringing phone without checking Caller ID, just ready to take out some of my stress on a telemarketer. The minute I heard G's voice, I forgot everything else. My G was having a crisis.
Like I said, she was at work & she was surrounded by other females who were all cooing over their delivered flowers, candy, and other Valentine's Day loot. Meanwhile, no deliveries had come for her. Not even one of those sweetheart phone calls that can have you floating through the rest of your day. G said that she'd even tried calling her boyfriend to see if he'd gotten the gift she'd sent (a cologne set), but he was either not at work or the receptionist was lying for him. He wasn't answering his home or cell phone either.
Talk about a crisis.
It's bad enough to be single & have to deal with Valentine's Fever at work, but when you're part of a couple... Wow.
Anyway, G and I (always at our best in a crisis) handled the situation. I ordered a delivery of what had to be the last flowers in the state, and when they arrived at G's office, she called me up and talked in such a way that everyone within earshot thought she was thanking someone named "Baby" and "Honey." After work, she came by with wine and cheesecake & we had a great time applauding our combined genius. Her heart & pride was pretty beat up, but I was able to make her smile.
And that's how female friendships survive. Most women don't bond easily with other females, but when we do bond, it's almost unbreakable. This is what I was thinking about as G and I finished the second bottle of wine. And I started thinking that if women had the same criteria for the men we let into our lives as we do for our girlfriends, we'd probably save ourselves a lot of heartache.
I explained this theory to G in that mellow and deeply philosophical way of a person not used to drinking so much wine. G - just as drunk as I - understood me perfectly. We discussed it for a while and I came up with a list of "Relationship Declarations":
I am what I am. I cannot & will not fake being some fantasy woman out of your unrealistic dreams. That's not consistent, healthy, or sane.
You is what you is. Relax and be yourself. I might not like everything about the "real" you, but at least I'll know what I'm getting. I can work with that.
Life is what it is. Life is not going to be one long, perfect, moonlit date with a Grammy-winning soundtrack playing in the background of our relationship. We have to be able to get through the good days and bad.
I finished ticking off these points, then looked over to see if there was anything G wanted to add. I guess not. She was sprawled across my sofa, dead to the world & probably dreaming about killer cheesecakes going after her now ex-boyfriend.
I pulled a blanket out of the "To Be Shipped" pile and draped it over her. When I stumbled to bed, I remained conscious long enough to thank God for the girlfriends in my life. Girlfriends who understand my silence and my words - even when I get on one of my mammy-made rants.

My words for today:

"If man & woman could switch places for a day, woman would explore the mind & man would explore the body." (Free 2/2006)

Listening to:

"You" (Earth, Wind & Fire - from the album "Love Songs")