It was an evening after my run when I, Kitten, couldn’t wait to indulge in some alone time, starting with a bubble bath and lit candles while sipping on a glass of ménage a trois.
I didn't have any booze on hand and decided to run to the store. I stepped out of my wet workout clothes and climbed into a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that was on their way to the laundry. I tried to do something with my hair but my newly chopped fro – still celebrating freedom from repression danced full and vibrant atop my head like a woman’s hips infused with calypso beats.
I washed my face and slipped on a pair of sandals. The silver nail polish had a small chip on one toe, but I chose not to care.
Ally called while I was on my way to the store asking if I wanted a shoulder to cry on.
“What for?” I asked.
“It can’t be easy for you that Michael is getting married,” she said. “I’m sure it hurts, Kit,”
“No. I didn’t want to marry him so I don't really care," I said.
She paused. “So what are you up to?” she asked after realizing that I was not going to fill the silence with ridiculous tales of feeling not good enough for not being chosen. Being Micheal's wife wasn't a prize I wanted to win. Not that he is a bad guy. He's not - he was loving and kind to me and Caesar during our time together. He helped me through some difficult times, and we shared a lot of adventures. But our relationship ended in deception with him cheating on me despite having access to my pussy anytime, anyhow, anyplace - betraying the trust I would've bet my life on - and turning out not to be the kind of man that I would want to call husband.
“Right now I am heading to the store to pick up a bottle of wine and I’m going to spend the evening enjoying myself. Maybe I’ll masturbate,” I said.
She laughed. “You’re disgusting,”
As for Michael getting married, his text earlier that day, “Kitten, I hate to inform you in this manner, but I’m going to get married this weekend…,” was certainly a shock. I didn't know that he was engaged...and he was trying to get pussy from me less than a month ago, on his birthday. We'd fucked and indulged in phone sex several times over the last year-and-a-half during his relationship with the soon to be wife. I wondered if he told her that he had been cheating on her with me, the woman he cheated on, with her? I've already admitted to my twisted sex revenge logic about this matter. I'm not proud, but I have forgiven myself.
I got my bottle of wine and candles and was heading to check out when I spotted a man staring at me and started following me around – the kind of staring that sends prickles up a woman’s spine, and not in a good way. I checked my purse for my pepper spray and strategized which lethal blow I would use to take him down should he attack me – the strike to his throat, knee to his crotch or a round-rouse kick to his head?
Why are you following me?” I asked, turning to face him as I made it through checkout. Dusk had turned to darkness outside. Few shoppers were strolling about the store. Cameras were mounted in high corners. Surely, his intention was not to attack me inside.
“I’d really like to go home and drink my wine instead of breaking it on your head and severing one or both of your carotid arteries," I said.
“Wow, lady. Severing my carotid arteries! Fuck, what’s that?”
“Why are you following me?” I demanded.
He stared at me as if trying to decide if he should admit to anything. He looked mid-thirties at least, with a muscular build that said he knew his way around the gym.
“I wanted to talk to you. I just didn’t know how to approach you. There’s something about you… You have an inner light.” He said looking me over.
I stared at him somewhat amused. I certainly did not expect to get hit on when I walked out that evening. I was a little funky from my run and the dirty pair of jeans and t-shirt that I’d taken out of the laundry basket did not help. I had lost control of my hair...
“You shouldn’t follow people around. It’s creepy. Next time just introduce yourself,” I said walking away.
“You look like a woman who fits inside her skin. Even your hair is happy,” He called after me.
A short time later, immersed in the bathtub, sipping my wine, lights from the lit candles gave the room a sense of intimacy perfect for lovers, I reflected on my life...
“You look like a woman who fits inside her skin,” The stalker's words came to me.
It’s taken me almost forty years, but I think I'm finally here. Mark Twain says, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”
I have asked and answered many of the big questions… Kitten, what kind of life do you want to live? What kind of relationships do you want to have with your friends, family, children, partner? What is your life purpose?
My friend Tyson once told me that I am a life negotiator. He said it’s a skill I learned to survive a drug addicted husband, a psychopathic ex-boyfriend and single parenthood at a young age.
“One day you will learn that you don’t have to negotiate your life and your happiness away. One day, Kitten, you’ll find that you fit inside your skin,”
In being clear about who I am, what I want and the values for which I stand - I have found flow. It’s how I was able to take in stride the news of an ex-boyfriend for whom I still care, getting married and not think or feel anything for I have accepted that the next chapter of our lives did not include each other - and it's not good or bad - it's just life.
I know something else… the days of negotiating away my happiness and values are gone. I’ve decided my worth, I know that I am fucking awesome and that knowing is not up for negotiations.
I tell you this...my eyes are set not on the dim lights of what once was, but the glow on the horizon, for there I see the mystery and magic of my life up to this point. The self that I am becoming, I can see ascending like a Jamaican sunrise scale the vast blue mountains. I know not to worry about anything. I will have my epic romance, and if I ever marry again, it will be to a man worthy of me. I will reach the goals and live the dreams I set for myself. And I will continue to work on being my best self.
When I look out into the world at what my life is and will be, I do so with the smile of a woman who knows that she does not have to negotiate away her life. I may not be able to control how or when I die, but I can control how I live. It is with excitement that I start this next chapter of my life story in which I fit inside my skin.
“When I look into the future, it's so bright it burns my eyes.”
- Oprah Winfrey