Yesterday's Unnecessary Burrito
As perscribed by my therapist, I had recently taken a stab at listing criteria for the men I date. I ran through my mental checklist as we spoke.
"What do you do with your time? Do you have a job?"
I'm fighting for galactic peace. I'm a trained jedi knight, and I'm working to educate people in the intereste of harmony.
Outwardly I nodded knowingly, as though he were the fifth or sixth jedi warrior I'd met on the street outside the New Leaf Market. Meanwhile I tried to picture a partial credit column on my invisible list.
"Where do you live?"
I live in life. I travel; the Earth is my home. But I'm moving to Santa Cruz.
In the past, I would have accepted this answer. I've dated homeless men before. But even some brand new to setting standards, like me, could spot that this guy didn't meet mine.
But his skin was so smooth and golden. He had that sculpted face, and those two beautiful braids. And most importantly, I was lonely.
"I'm glad you spoke to me," I said that night, as we lay side by side on my futon. "I felt like a ghost."
No, you're very real, he replied. Pure. I saw your soul.
He stayed the night with me. We didn't make love. I disliked kissing him; instead I buried my face in his shoulder and pretended to sleep.
I left him there in the morning, asleep, and carried a warm feeling into work with me. Even though he had groped me in the night, I felt cherished and respected. I'd told him no sex, and he'd complied. He'd complimented me more than Ben had in the six months we dated. And when I got home that day, he'd chosen specific Angel cards from my deck and spread them out for me...Support, Transformation, New Beginnings.
The matrix turned out to be yesterday in town. I was in my car; he was on the street, clutching another woman with true love's grasp.
I saw them. Then I turned the corner, and observed my reaction: an internal tidal wave of jealousy and betrayal.
Over a 34-year-old man who still eats hallucinogenic mushrooms for dinner.
I buried the feelings beneath salsa and sour cream.
"What do you do with your time? Do you have a job?"
I'm fighting for galactic peace. I'm a trained jedi knight, and I'm working to educate people in the intereste of harmony.
Outwardly I nodded knowingly, as though he were the fifth or sixth jedi warrior I'd met on the street outside the New Leaf Market. Meanwhile I tried to picture a partial credit column on my invisible list.
"Where do you live?"
I live in life. I travel; the Earth is my home. But I'm moving to Santa Cruz.
In the past, I would have accepted this answer. I've dated homeless men before. But even some brand new to setting standards, like me, could spot that this guy didn't meet mine.
But his skin was so smooth and golden. He had that sculpted face, and those two beautiful braids. And most importantly, I was lonely.
"I'm glad you spoke to me," I said that night, as we lay side by side on my futon. "I felt like a ghost."
No, you're very real, he replied. Pure. I saw your soul.
He stayed the night with me. We didn't make love. I disliked kissing him; instead I buried my face in his shoulder and pretended to sleep.
I left him there in the morning, asleep, and carried a warm feeling into work with me. Even though he had groped me in the night, I felt cherished and respected. I'd told him no sex, and he'd complied. He'd complimented me more than Ben had in the six months we dated. And when I got home that day, he'd chosen specific Angel cards from my deck and spread them out for me...Support, Transformation, New Beginnings.
Thank you for sharing space with me. You are beautiful. See you in the matrix.
The matrix turned out to be yesterday in town. I was in my car; he was on the street, clutching another woman with true love's grasp.
I saw them. Then I turned the corner, and observed my reaction: an internal tidal wave of jealousy and betrayal.
Over a 34-year-old man who still eats hallucinogenic mushrooms for dinner.
I buried the feelings beneath salsa and sour cream.
posted by Lovely Lady Grace at 1:31 PM
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