It’s hard to decide sometimes. It only gets clear with hindsight, and even then, there’s no telling how things could have been if we did things a different way. There is only what is. We might as well work with what we got, it seems to me.
I lean heavily on the side of authenticity, even if it means erring on the side of crude, rude, uncooth, abbrassiveness sometimes.
I’m 52. I’ll be 53 soon. I definitely do not feel inclined to waste much time not saying what I think if it is bothering me…and, I also don’t want to waste any of my precious energy on pointless conflict.
Setting boundaries is a good thing. It took me three or four decades to figure that out, and I am still not very good at it. Or maybe, I am super good at it, just, abbrassively.
Earlier today, an old friend stopped by without calling first. He doesn’t have my number. It’s probably been close to a decade since I last saw him. He and his son went up to Pagosa springs with my sister friend and I some years ago and partied in a timeshare I had. Played in the hottub. His son just committed suicide recently. He is still deep in grief.
He cried and I gave him a hug, and invited him in for a short visit. He showed me a really awesome knife he made, and told me he knows I am a healer, so he came to me for help. We talked for a bit, and then I went to my mom’s as I was already planning. I was touched that he called me a healer, and remembers me for that, and that he felt safe crying around me. I felt good about it all afternoon.
Later, I texted him to say it was nice to see him and I felt like I had cut our conversation short and would be up working a couple hours if he wanted to talk. He texted me back very flirtatous, which caught me off guard. I know he still has feelings for my sister. I reminded him he and I are both not very stable of mind or heart right now and suggested we just work on healing.
He said that was fine, and then asked if he could call me beautiful instead of Angel (or dude). I said sure. I do like that.
Looking back, I can see that was a ‘teetery moment’, where I let that boundary slide. I considered that I have a couple other friends who call me beautiful, and it feels good. I know many men call lots of women beautiful. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It does mean something to him though, and to me.
I have just lately been saying to the universe, and said to an old friend yesterday, that I miss having someone in my life. I am lonely, and the isolation is not healthy for me. I love alone time, so that gets tricky, but, yeah, this much alone time is just not good for me. I have been missing male energy, attention, hands, voice.
So I fell right into my own trap quickly. Almost as quickly as he. I did told him to calm down when he said he loves me. He went on quite romantically, and I was allowing myself to enjoy it to a degree, keeping up only a vague guard.
Then he called me my sister-friend’s name about an hour in. Ouch. He apologized, and I said yeah, that sucked. Then he proceeded to go on about how much he still loves her even though she doesn’t feel the same about him. I felt like an idiot. Dupped again, by my own desire to be loved, to be seen, to be appreciated. I do love being complimented. What is up with that? I think it’s just a natural human tendancy, isn’t it?
In the hour conversation we had, I was already opening up to possibilities, and letting him go on about things, the way one does when excited to share. It stings that he was unconsciously using me to get to her, and that I am so gullible. It also feels good to feel a glimmer of attraction, to be reminded there are other people out there who could be a match for me, even though he is not. Maybe no one is. I was excited about having help and him teaching me some metal work. Perhaps we will still hang out, but now I have yet another rub, another wall to keep up, another place I have to hold up a boundary that I’d really rather not.
I reflect on what I like about him, so I can keep that in my sights. He is capable, passionate, and active. He hunts and works with metal. He is not married, though he used to be. He is relatively open and honest, and also has a tough history. He has a good sense of humor and is easy going. He has a truck, animals, and is relatively fit. He is a bit older and taller than me. He likes to work. He is enterprising, though he is not really what I would call an ‘out front leader’. He owns a home I think. I know him to be relatively kind, thoughtful, and generous, though he also has the capacity to be a bit of an ass (something I have come to accept that I am attracted to–sort of like I am attracted to the smell of horse sweat–it’s innate). He would enjoy lifting heavy things for me.
For good measure, let’s review the reasons this particular potential is not a good selection. First and last: He’s in love with my sister, and that makes them both potentially crazy if we spend any time together. He is deep in grief and in need of healing. Also, I am not in the right physical, emotional, or mental shape to do an ‘sexual healing’, though that’s too bad because that can be good stuff.
Here my internal narrator wrestles me a bit.
He’s not in his right mind, and neither am I.
It is a nice thought though, that I might find love again, just like that. That is could be around any corner, and arrive any day.
Around my mother, I have learned to swallow my words a lot. It doesn’t feel healthy, but it feels like the best option. Around most everyone else, I don’t. I say the things, for better and worse.
I told him it felt bad that he seemed to be just trying to make her jealous now that he said all that, so I was going to go. He said okay, and then texted me another apology after we ended the conversation. I cried a little bit. I’m so tired. Glad it’s bed time.
~ZGALA, September 27, 2023
nmgal007 ~Angel Lilly, Performance Poet, Speaker, Songwriter, Singer 