Jen and I were in bed like lovers, dressed in matching plaid flannel pajamas. The skinny jeans and the black shirt that I wore to meet Clark for dinner that evening were folded on the back of the rocking chair by the window where she reads. My red four-inch stilettos were placed in a corner like a lover home from a hard day at work settles in for the night.
The restaurant where I met Clark was two blocks away from Jen’s house, so it made perfect sense to me to stop by without calling.
“Are you with a man?” I asked when Jen let me in.
“Do I look like I’m with a man?”
“No. You look like you’re being eaten by flannel pajamas.” I said.
“I was in bed watching tv and eating popcorn. And I’m going back,” she said.
I followed her to the bedroom sensing a hint of frustration and identified the cause. Jasmine scented candles still permeated throughout the living room. The table was set for two – a vase filled with freshly clipped stems of red roses added a touch of intimacy. I knew that if I opened the refrigerator, I would find dinner packed away untouched. She had been crying.
I climbed beneath the covers with her.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I asked.
“Are you staying the night?”
“I don’t see why I should drive home at this hour,” I said.
She chuckled. “You are the last person I thought I would end up in bed with tonight,”
She opened a top drawer and handed me matching pajamas to the one she was wearing.
“You are not sleeping naked in my bed,” she said when I started to object and assert that I sleep naked. I put them on and settled comfortably beside her.
“I think we should be lesbians and be done with it,” She said after a while of munching on popcorn while watching an episode of Criminal Minds. “I think it would solve all our man problems,”
“It wouldn’t work for us. We love cock too much," I said.
"Don't knock it until you try it," she said.
"If you must know, I’ve been with two fair maidens,” I said. “And I think that was enough to satisfy my curiosity. I haven’t had a girl crush in many years,”
"You've been with women?" she asked.
"I sure have," I said and proceeded to tell her about one of my loves, Kira who left a little ache in my heart. I still remember the taste of her kisses, the softness of her skin, and the smell of her freshly washed hair as she rested her head on my breast. I remembered the way her little titties hardened between my lips – her moans as I traced her curves with my fingertips - lowered my face between her legs and kissed the inside of her thighs, my tongue frolicked about her silky folds, I tasted the salty sweetness of her nectar.
Yes, the experience of the lovely Kira is not one I shall forget. It was a soft and tender affair - but it all went wrong when she tried and failed to convince me that I was a lesbian and should give up men entirely.
Jen giggled as I told her with much dramatics about being stalked and was reduced to hiding from my shunned girl love. I realized that it was probably not a good idea to experiment with someone who had real feelings for me even if I told her that I was experimenting. But I was new at the lesbian stuff and didn't know the rules. I blamed myself for the whole mess.
“So are you ok now with the Michael situation?” She asked. Her face now flushed with laughter rather than wretched with tears. “Are you back from your trip?”
The trip that Jen was referring to is the one I take when I’m wounded and need to heal myself. I don’t pack a suitcase or book a flight to some far away exotic land. It was a trip to my inner sanctuary - back to my beginning, where I sit in the silence of my mind and connect with my little Kitten self. It's where I explore, sort through and get perspective on my feelings. I draw the blinds, turn off my phone and write through my emotions.
Michael’s deception seemed so out of character and so pointless, it floored me. There was a time when I would have laid my neck on the chopping block in defense of his honor. Realizing that I would have lost my head shook me like the 8.2-magnitude earthquake that struck northern Chile earlier this year.
The answer to the question that I've been asking as to why he got engaged and kept coming to my bed was simple. He loved to fuck me, he wanted to keep fucking me and it didn't matter to him that he was engaged. It was difficult to wrap my mind around this - it brought into question our entire relationship - and left me staring down a rabbit hole I knew I shouldn't enter.
I know that this kind of deception can derail a person from love – if not careful – for life. I see it all the time in the dating world - it’s a landscape full of broken people – living in self-contained cocoons – afraid to love for fear of being hurt again. And so, whatever feelings I had about the situation, I dealt with immediately and let go. I wasn’t about to lose my heart and my ability to trust because of his actions. What good would that do? Being angry and hateful and feeling victimized I find is a waste of time that serves only in damaging one's spirit.
Besides, I've been around long enough and I've loved and lost enough times to know that his deception was not a reflection on me. It told the story of him. And could negatively impact my life only if I gave it more meaning than it's worth. And that I would not do. Not all men would have behaved in such a manner. There are those who would’ve had the courage, to be honest.
Maya Angelou said, "Courage is the most important of all the virtues because without courage you can't practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.”
“I’m back from my trip,” I said to Jen.
“Did you say that you had dinner with Clark?” she asked.
“I thought you broke up with him,”
“I did. But we kept in touch,"
“What was dinner about?”
“He wants to get back together. He stated that he is sure he wants me - not just my pussy - me. But expressed that he was still fearful of relationships and confused about the two ex-wives,”
“Well, how do you feel about him?” Jen asked.
“He's a fun, sweet guy. And I have a sweetness to him that is not logical - it's instinctual. He's been a silent, burning flame that I don't fully understand. We are without explanation. I don't know how our story will play out, Jen. Last time I walked away not because I wanted to - I had to. I felt that it was just my sex he wanted - I don't think that's entirely true anymore,"
She stared at me. “How do you walk away so easily, Kit?” she asked. “I’ve watched you, even with this crazy situation with Michael. I know that his actions hurt you, but instead of acting a fool like Ally wanted you to do, and which I probably would – you didn’t do anything. You applied sound logic to the situation in record time and walked away with such grace that I'm not sure what to make of you. How do you do that? Because I’ve been trying to leave John for the longest time and I can’t. He was supposed to come over tonight, and he didn’t show up – he didn’t even call. I know that he’s no good for me. And I still can’t leave him,”
“Did you ever dream of being some man’s mistress, Jen?” I asked.
“No. Who would want that?”
“Then why have you spent so many years of your life as John’s mistress when it’s not what you want? If you don't want it - don't accept it. Isn't it that simple?” I asked.
Steve Maraboli asked a profound question in his book, Unapologetically You: Reflections on Life and the Human Experience, “Do you love yourself enough to BE what you love yourself enough to WANT?”
Jen and I talked long into the night until she fell asleep. I lay awake listening to her breathing softly beside me and thinking about all kinds of things…
I have been called a crazy fool for daring to risk my heart again and again so fearlessly. But I don’t think crazy is what I am, though I could be wrong.
I discovered a few years ago when I ended up in court with CX and found myself hunted, convicted and hanged like a Salem woman falsely accused of witchcraft, though there existed no evidence of any crime - I discovered that no one could break me beyond repair.
I remembered staring helplessly at the dust size pieces of my life after the trial - with no idea how I would put myself back together. But as I stared at the broken pieces, it dawned on me that my answer to self-preservation lies not in putting the pieces back together, but using them as the foundation on which to build the skyscraper of a new life. I could create if I chose – a better, stronger, smarter, brand new self. The experience transformed me. I've learned not to make decisions based on fear.
Then I thought of Clark, who showed up to dinner looking handsome. I liked him enough to throw my hat in the ring, lay all my cards on the table and take a shot at love. But I understood that healing takes time - I acted against my instinct and made a logical decision to put an end to us the first time. It may have seemed an easy thing to do. It wasn't. I mourned him long into the night when no one was around to see me cry. But I knew that I wanted a man who had no doubt that he wanted me, and was ready to throw his hat into the ring with me to see what, if anything could become of us - that's it.
I’ve always been a risk taker for I understand that I cannot win if I do not play. One has to be a bit of a gambler to make a play for a prize like real love. I am a betting kind of girl.
"Things don’t go wrong and break your heart so you can become bitter and give up. They happen to break you down and build you up so you can be all that you were intended to be." ~ Samuel Johnson ~