soapboxdiner

Forces of Nature

That tingly feeling that starts somewhere behind one's navel and radiates from that center to crash in waves of warmth and anticipation... will be and has been my undoing. Like a pied piper, it draws me from my comfort, only to become my comfort. Like a whirlpool, it sucks me back down to that same place I've been before, no matter how I've fought with myself to escape it. It is a part of me. Only now it has adjoined itself to my irreverence and my fiercely protected independence from subjugation to the possession I both long for and despise.

The look that pulls me in is the prison that torments me. Upside down, willing to throw away my world for the promised omnipresence of freedom in living a passionate life, together with another who understands and accepts the lure of it, quietly and unspoken; powerful and inescapable, though when it is experienced escape does not enter even so much as into thought, much less desire for action.

And there is the crux of my dilemma. That sensation is a drug I cannot imagine myself ever being satisfied living without. And last night it knocked at my back door.

Have you ever looked into the eyes of a stranger and seen in those depths a thing you knew you had to consume entirely and thereby yourself be consumed?

The Man introduced his friend to the Good Neighbor last night. They came to my house. I would say we did remarkable things, but it would be untrue. And yet the commonness of the events was transcended by their excellence. It all clicked, and in stealthy kamikaze swoops sent unexpected sparks through me; sparks which were mirrored in the eyes of Male Friend.

After inviting my guests to add their favorite old skool cuts to a play list that was to become the soundtrack for our evening of card playing, dancing, and singing (comically) to our individual favorites, we all decided to go out.

The Man walked off when we entered the club - making his rounds, as it were, among his bar people.

His bar people.

The rest of us danced, which began in innocence but quickly escalated into a fury of fervor mixed with the confusion in my mind and my body and all the disgust at the Man's lack of motivation in getting his life together - getting a full time regularly paid job, car, OR abode and/or taking care of his numerous diabetic health problems, to say nothing of attending to more carnal appetites with a proper level of engagement. But all this I have wanted and have tried to overcome because being in his presence is companionable and comfortable and safe. It is sure and I don't have to worry or wonder about his intentions. He is in love with being in love. I am the vehicle toward that end more than the object of it. But I am also in danger of becoming the caretaker, chauffeur, mother and lover who enables it - despite my words and actions of encouragement in getting him motivated in the right direction.

And my God! He is 42 years old. Why am I, a single woman raising a child alone and taking care of my own household, expected to add a good-hearted derelict to the mix?

And there is my answer, no? Yes. I know I don't need to be here any more than he needs a lukewarm woman in his life.

Please pardon the fence riding.

And so we danced, the GN, Male Friend and I, each individually. Up came Other Man (not The Man or Male Friend), who began to dance with me. Three, four songs. Who knows and I did not care at all. I was not on the dance floor, but in an endorphin euphoria free of concern for confusion, desire, or disgust. I felt but did not feel the hand slapping my ass as I moved to the beat. I knew I wasn't dancing with a person I would ever be interested in. I had no interest. And the hand slapping my ass was attached to a man whose only interest in me regarded his deliberation over how the way I looked or moved might translate in a bedroom setting. A thing for which I have less than contempt for, but be that neither here nor there. I was dancing and god bless the man in his pursuit of whatever piece of ass he might be looking for. That did not involve me and I had no interest in dissecting intentions or desires.

The Man pulled Other Man aside after that and informed him that I am His Woman and instructed Other Man to refrain from disrespecting his claim to me. Then he pulled me outside to share with me that I am His and had best be acting accordingly.

Excuse the fuck out of me? I was dancing. Just dancing. You had full permission to join me, and I would invite and welcome you doing so. But I am NOT property and am wholly capable of making my own decisions in regard to who I choose to be with. Right now, that is you, Man. As I have shared with you before in numerous conversations, I have never cheated and have no plans to start now. Respect that and DO NOT try to shackle me in the cage of Your Love.

And so he apologized and we went back inside, where I returned to dancing with the GN. The Man again wandered off. Male Friend had left the floor but shortly returned. The Man looked, from the other end of the establishment, over with an air of martyrdom and sulking anger. I have no time for that. I am a trustworthy woman. I will not be guilted into being anything other than who I am and enjoying and celebrating that.

Male Friend, who by that point was dancing behind me, leaned down and asked about The Man and if he was upset. I shrugged and said I suppose he is. Are you concerned, he asked. Should I be? I'm just dancing. He can pout all he wants, if he's so inclined to waste a perfectly good evening out. Again, that has nothing to do with me.

The Man then rushed through the dance floor, looking straight ahead but avoiding all eye contact with any of us, and all but knocked both Male Friend and I over. Then he returned to pull Male Friend aside, apparently to have the same conversation with him as was had earlier with Other Man.

I shrugged again, very much annoyed that The Man would rather childishly pick a fight with every man in the club than come and dance with me himself, and in the process pouting to all his bar people over how he was the Done Wrong Man, and that I (His Woman) was a wicked and treacherous whore of a woman to be rebuked and condemned for my wanton lasciviousness. There was no need for martyring himself as a victim of unrequited love - a role he seems the most comfortable playing, all the better to garner the sympathies of people whom he hopes to blind from the fact that he takes no responsibility for himself.

And the looks I got. And some might argue rightfully so. After all, is it not a woman's duty to be docile and meek and all but obscure when out in public? Is she not supposed to defer to Her Man - even if "Her Man" prefers oscillating between sulking and juvenile Dick Wagging Contests? A Real - Good - Woman is supposed to pacify Her Man with unmitigated adoration at all times, most especially when he is feeling he is made less of a Man through his own lack of confidence in his status in combination with lacking any trust in his Woman.

Are you sensing my contempt for this antiquated patristic societal convention?

Have faith in me is all I am asking. Come, join me. Let go of whatever your mind was concerned with when you walked in here and enjoy this moment, right now. Laugh and play and flirt with me, here, in this place that does not have to be a part of your real world or your real life - this establishment whose kind was created for the very purpose of the release of which I speak. This night does not have to be about anger and suspicion and possession. I will give myself freely to you if you will only join me. Dancing, even if you choose to overlay it with connotations of sexualization, can be innocent in the sense that it is a natural pleasure devoid of ill intent. All you need is to see it with different eyes.

Is that a hard or unreasonable concept? Apparently so, as I appear to be in the minority.

And so, The Man danced with me - sullenly and with an expression of having been chastised - but he didn't last. He again left, to where and for what purpose, I don't know. All I know is that Male Friend returned to take up that empty place. He then asked me why I was with The Man.

*That* isn't you, SBD. He isn't you. I may not know what is, but I know *that* isn't it.

Is that right?

You should be with me.

Oh?

You don't need Stinky. I've got more going for me that he does. I have more going on with myself. You don't really want to be with him, do you?

*Silence.*

He doesn't do it for you. Tell me I'm wrong.

*Silence.*

You like me, too. Don't you?

*Shrug.* I plead the fifth. I'm not here for that. (While biting back - isn't he your friend? Why are you saying these things about him and why are you asking me these things? Are you his friend, and if so, is this how much you value, honor and respect your friendships - hitting on their "girlfriends"?)

I'm young, strong, I have my life together. And I'm healthy. (because The Man is 5'5 and 270 and plagued with illness)

*blink blink. shrug*

Okay, I'll stop begging.

Thank you.

But I'm here if you change your mind.

Duly noted. I need water. I'm going to get a glass of water.

Damn, but if that man did not tempt the hell out of me. Intrigued me. Piqued and titillated. His curiosity, his intelligence, his interests that are so in tune with mine - and not just what transpired in the bar. His charisma, his engaging presence, the way he actually paid attention, and this is silly - but the way he sought out my interests when he browsed my book shelf for the longest time, pulling books out and reading their dust covers before returning them - all move me to want to take another look. But it is also what scares me.

I need to just leave it all - and him - alone. Damn it all. Because I really don't want to any more than I want to disengage from socializing with this new and dynamic group of people, or lose the comfort of knowing that The Man, as he puts it, "will be around until I kick him out".

But the cynical and evil side of me retorts - but that's probably in large part due to your ass wanting a free meal and a cozy place to lay your head when you don't want to catch the midnight bus back out to your boss's basement studio that you call "home" when your friends won't put you up for the night.

Plus, what woman in this society wants to be labeled as the whore who got passed around the guys before being summarily dropped flat on her used up ass when they were done with her?

Fuck it all, I say. It is all a bunch of contrived crap designed to wrangle women into an ill-fitting confinement. Isn't it?

Damn shame there isn't any changing it.

p.s. - In case anyone was wondering, the GN and Male Friend both made their lack of romantic interest in each other well known before any of the preceding.

9:41 pm - 06.06.04
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