Seventh Ring of Hell: Election Year

Seventh Ring of Hell: Election Year

Anyone that has been watching the weather at all this summer knows that most of the country has descended into the seventh ring of hell. (Except for my readers in the Pacific Northwest who seem to be the only area in the country NOT angry red on the map) I have to wonder if any of this is connected to the fact that it is an election year and things seem so much nastier this year than four years ago.

Does anyone notice that elections seem to get worse and worse every year? The attack ads, the snits, the commentary, the sound bites taken out of context, the back-and-forth snarky remarks… To me, the country has lost its way on both sides of the aisle. I do not want to get all political on you but I think it is time someone said something truthful. Both Republicans and Democrats should be ashamed of themselves for taking something that should by all accounts be a serious endeavor and making it a circus. My father has always stressed the importance of understanding each candidate and the issues and platform the candidate has. Do we ever hear about their platforms anymore? Do we ever hear anything other than hate speech? A country only gets the government it deserves and most people I hear talk about the election only spit out the rhetoric they hear in attack ads and never once question the truth of either side. They do no research and just parrot what they hear. I find it depressing and as oppressive as the wet blanket heat we have in the summer here.

I recently started talking to a guy I thought would be fun and we seemed to have a lot in common. As per my usual, I was wrong. In the first conversation we had he started in on President Obama and Obamacare and any other thing he felt he did not like. When I questioned him why he did not care for any of these things he started telling me how he is not legally an American and wants to be a dictator and on and on… about matters that are frankly a moot point. The President presented a birth certificate. Yes his middle name is Hussein but millions of people in the world and our own country carry that name as Islam is one of the world’s largest religions and the President does not practice that religion… it is just a name just like you have that middle name you do not want to share with people. If your middle name is Esmeralda or Irmagarde you are not likely to go around telling people unless you just love that name… I would not but that is my opinion. Neither of those names or whatever name you carry likely as a family name makes you who you are, and it is certainly NOT a reason to not vote for someone. What if a President’s middle name was a name generally deemed as wimpy or feminine…. Like Cecil or (here in the south it is common to hear a “girl” name think Gone With The Wind) Courtney… would that make him a bad President? I don’t think it matters.

When I finally spoke my mind to the gentleman, he actually muttered this dismissal “Well you couldn’t possibly understand; females are not meant for political matters.” Uh… hello? We have had the vote since the 20s and some of the greatest political minds in history have been female. Do tell ignorant douche canoe what it is that makes you think this? Can you explain that statement any better than your reason to vote in the other direction? Not that I mind who you vote for; just please know WHY you are doing it and understand it completely. Vote your conscience but know what it is and why. Do not just go into that booth and press a button or two because you believed a commercial. As a communications major I can assure you that those commercials are made to rile you, to sway you, to sound completely legit. It is sadly a mockery of the entire system set forth by our forefathers. It is not a popularity contest, thus the inclusion of the Electoral College. I don’t know maybe it should be a popularity contest but obviously, I am unable to comprehend politics… since I happen to be a chick.

Most people do not understand the five-year overlap idea that President’s contend with; meaning they have to deal with the issues and mistakes or legislation made by the preceding President (think two wars…) so to have any real effect at all they must be a two-term President. The five-year overlap applies whether the President holds one term or two because policies made still take time to go into effect.

Worst still to me is the absolute inability to work together with the current administration. Bipartisanism has become so rampant that nothing is getting accomplished at all. Should it matter what party you belong to once you get there? No, it shouldn’t your job is to work together to make the country the best you feel it can be. Not to squabble over parties or just dig in your heels and not participate because you have your head up your ass. We saw this during the first State of the Union when the Republicans responded to the President with so much disrespect and acted like petulant children even screaming the now infamous “LIAR”! This would never have been tolerated in the early days of our republic. So what has changed? Have we become so apathetic to what is happening that we are willing to flush our country down the toilet? Never in my life have I seen such behavior. I am losing faith in everything I was raised to believe in. Our government is broken. The people who have the power to fix it? We, the voters, but that is not going to happen with blatant misinformation, ignorance, and even in some places flat-out racism.

What is it going to take to put forth viable candidates from both parties? In the last several elections I have felt I am voting for the lesser of two evils. I should not have that choice to make. It shouldn’t be that way. Both candidates should be qualified and competent but no one seems to want to step up.

PS: Dirty little surprise for you here; I am a registered Republican.

Check all the facts and vote your mind, here are some resources:

http://www.factcheck.org/

http://www.politifact.com/

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/fact-checker

http://www.vikitech.com/454/get-your-facts-right-6-fact-checking-websites-that-help-you-know-the-truth

Chip and the Germy Rapist

FAIR WARNING: POTTY TALK AHEAD!

Does everyone have a small or perhaps large hang up about public restrooms or is it just me?   I have a “shy” system… so I do my best to be absolutely alone in the restroom. Having Crohn’s did not make me this way; I was always this way…

As a child the family was on a road trip to somewhere and made a stop at those wonderfully clean and inviting rest stops! This one in particular was so welcoming, and “environmental” so much so that I actually had no choice of stall with a functioning door and was quite alarmed to find myself sitting (before I really knew the powers of the “hover”) in this little stall in the back of the restroom hoping no one else would come in… I knew enough at that point in my life that having no locking doors between you and your privates was no bueno… but there in the little stall with chipped green painted wood dividers and as mentioned no door, I found myself eye to eye with a squirrel. I do not mind squirrels so much; they seem kind of cute and have those oddly bushy tails. This squirrel I did mind. He, she, it… was sitting there watching me. I saw where something probably this squirrel had pried open one of the very lovely chicken wire windows and scurried in to observe the bowel habits of humans.

I decided that this squirrel was probably some super powered squirrel with behemoth strength. As we both sat there completely still sizing the other up; it was blocking my way out and I felt as though it thought I was on his turf. I say him because like everything I came or come across in my life I name … I called him “Chip” as in Chip and Dale… YES I know they were chipmunks now, but I didn’t really understand the difference or give it much thought as I desperately tried not to move or release anything from my body given the squirrel might not like my usage of his facilities. So there I sat. Staring, Chip at me and I at Chip. Chip did not move a muscle either; I assumed he did so because he did not want his secret strength to be revealed. My mother finally came searching for me because I had been gone half an hour and she had started to worry if I was okay. Of course as soon as Chip heard her calling my name, his other super power of lightning speed was revealed… she never saw him. When she finally found me tucked away in the back stall I now had another being staring at me… this one now furious that I didn’t answer her when she called and was just twiddling. I tried to explain Chip to her as she stomped off and told me to hurry the hell up. Once back to the safety of the car, I could see Chip sitting in the grass just outside of the shelter; I could feel his little beady eyes on me, plotting the demise of the world. I attempted to tell my tale of Chip and his super powers to my parents only to be shushed and have it brushed off as a tall tale.

Crohn’s only made this aversion to public rest rooms more traumatic because now they are unavoidable. I have to use them; sometimes immediately. I find it mortifying to come flying into a bathroom only to find that the middle and statistically the dirtiest stall in the entire room open and that someone hasn’t flushed or peed all over the seat. Gentlemen you may think that a woman’s restroom is clean and orderly and nice… but trust me when I tell you they are usually pee soaked nightmares behind the stall doors and a huge watery mess at the sinks. The only time I have enjoyed a restroom was the one time in Great Britain I had the honor of using the water closet at Harrods and there was an attendant ready and waiting. (Wouldn’t that be the worst job?) Then it was hard for me too… pre Crohn’s but still there is this person sitting out there in the country known for manners and decorum and I am about to go rip one in the stall. I tried the flush and go… so that they wouldn’t hear me but that did not work. I think she caught on because the water started running and I finally relaxed enough to take care of business. As I emerged, maroon from head to toe with embarrassment she politely said “Just warming the water for you Miss, it takes some time with these old pipes.” Then I felt even worse because she knew what I knew she knew… As I washed my hands and went for the door I heard her quietly rise from her seat and spray some air freshener. I could have fainted. I just told myself it was standard procedure… and prayed to God I didn’t ruin the poor lady’s day. Enough about that… because I do not enjoy reliving that…

I noticed the other day as I scooted into a restroom in a building where my doctor’s office is, smiling to find it empty and the last stall clear and clean-ish… I always use the very first or very last stall because I read a study that examined the cleanliness of public restrooms and found those stalls to be the least used and typically the cleanest. The closer to the middle you get the nastier it gets; word to the wise. So I find myself there with the hopeless little piece of tissue paper seat cover they give out; I find the only thing these are actually useful for is to discover hidden spots of “water” I question their ability to save me from someone else’s creatures. I have hung my purse and secured myself, and have only just sat down to deal with my issue and in stomps someone. Silently I pray they take the first stall. Clearly my feet are visible underneath the stall… BUT this is never what happens. Have you ever noticed that people seem to be drawn to the stall immediately next to you, especially if you have a shy bladder? So this woman stomps into the stall next to me slamming the door and causing the entire stall system to wobble. She sits down and starts grunting like a boar in heat. For a moment I am worried she might be giving birth.

Then the noise erupting from her stall proved to me why I NEVER like going with someone in the restroom. Not even a courtesy flush… Sweet tea and baby Jesus I thought I was going to pass out. Why when you have to poo do you go sit next to someone? Do some people feel this is a bonding thing? My dog seems to think it is, and will sit at the door and whimper until I let him in and there he just stares at me; that creeps me out… but I love him so I have gotten sort of used to it. I have been able to train him to look away at the door which helps. I digress.

When you have to relieve that much and make that much noise doing it would you not want to be as far away from humanity as possible? Does anyone think it is polite society to come in and drop several deuces, whilst grunting, and I will mention hollering (yes she was yelling to Jesus) maybe she had eaten Taco Bell. I do not know and I naturally did not ask. I was thankful she did not need toilet paper. At one point I think she was kicking or hitting the stall door or walls… I am not sure. Normally I would have laughed but I couldn’t breathe. She did finally leave and I had to Lysol after she left. Yes, I do carry travel sized Lysol with me in my purse… you just do not know what is lurking in these public restrooms. I decided whatever she had might be catching and I did not need that mixed with my Crohn’s and dear Lord… Still it got me thinking about why people seem to do this. Does this happen to any of y’all? Or am I the only one that people seem to want to take the dump of their lives next to? Seriously? I find it disturbing and worse still painful because I am trying to hold mine back whatever I have to do out of my sheer shyness… politeness? It never fails though I can be alone in a movie theater bathroom with something like 78 stalls and in the last stall… guess where the one person who comes in sits?

It is worse when they have a child with them. I once had a kid slide under a stall, look up at me and ask me if I had to do number one, number two, or was I doing number three. God knows what his mother was doing but she wasn’t watching her child… now I was. I have no idea what number three is… and I do not want to know. The mother who is sitting in the stall the size of a large shoebox finally notices that her son has slid under the stall and is attempting to carry on a conversation with one very shocked me… and she only fusses at him for being on the floor of a bathroom! No hey lady I am so sorry my kid is staring at you and your bits and questioning your business…. But instead he is only chastised for getting germy. I do not about any of you, dear readers, and your upbringings but my mother would have beaten the ever living snot out of me for moving much less crawling around on the floor and worse still into another stall to talk to another person. 77 other stalls… and they choose the one next to me. Go use the baby stall and strap that kid to the changer…. I don’t care, but if your toddler has a propensity to slide under stalls and check out other ladies I think that is an early warning sign of a rapist. Just saying.

Please let me know if you have ever had anything like this happen to you… or if you have noticed this issue of people wanting to sit next to you whilst taking care of bathroom needs.

PS: The “germy rapist” chap and his momma did not wash their hands. So much for germs huh lady?

Worth a Thousand Words

The Green Fields of France


Well, how do you do, Private William McBride, 
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside? 
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun, 
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done. 
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19 
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916, 
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean 
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene? 

Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly? 
Did the rifles fir o'er you as they lowered you down? 
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus? 
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest? 

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind 
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined? 
And, though you died back in 1916, 
To that loyal heart are you forever 19? 
Or are you a stranger without even a name, 
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane, 
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained, 
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame? 

The sun's shining down on these green fields of France; 
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance. 
The trenches have vanished long under the plow; 
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now. 
But here in this graveyard that's still No Man's Land 
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand 
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man. 
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned. 

And I can't help but wonder, no Willie McBride, 
Do all those who lie here know why they died? 
Did you really believe them when they told you "The Cause?" 
Did you really believe that this war would end wars? 
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame 
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain, 
For Willie McBride, it all happened again, 
And again, and again, and again, and again.

The Lady Aisle

 

Toblerone and Snarky Science Experiments

Fair warning this blog is about to enter a new realm of things to discuss…

Alright in all serious snarkiness this topic means something to me. It should mean something to all you wonderful Belles out there! The matter seems to be getting out of control and I can no longer, with a straight face, feign any dismissal of men trying to explain why they get confused, or dislike…

THE GIRLIE AISLE.

Something has happened on the lady aisle, something I find disturbing and a bit revolting. I find it so upsetting that I almost do not want to go down said aisle anymore myself! Yesterday I made that trip to Target to pick up some needed supplies for the upcoming TOP SECRET: OPERATION MOM’S BIRTHDAY… more on that later.

Then I remembered I should probably “restock” the stores my feminine products; you can honestly never have too many.

I found myself on the infamous aisle of male shame and fear. Seriously it is like a black hole. I have seen men accidently turn down the aisle only to look like a stunned deer and freeze momentarily; you can see the wheels turning in their head as to what they can do, act casual, back away slowly, or if they have been married long enough… pick up the phone, call the wife and ask for a pic of the brand of preference so he MIGHT match it up correctly.

These days, however, it is becoming harder and harder to match it up, even for us ladies that have been going through this since puberty. It seems every time I make the trip to the girlie aisle everything has changed and thus the prices have gone up, because supposedly the technology is better. How much better or technologically advanced can absorption get? That’s really all we are talking about here right?

This time the Always brand has a new line called “Radiant”. Seriously? I do not know anything about how others feel about Auntie Flow… but there is nothing friggin’ radiant about it, for me.

See guys, if you are still reading here, this is something women do not typically discuss amongst themselves. We may know every detail of our friend’s sex lives, and the shape of their bikini line but we are not going to discuss our periods or our personal preference in products… and not with our mom’s either.

I am standing there looking at the radiant line packages… and they are all shiny and sparkly looking and several dollars more than the price of the old line; which is now suddenly as outdated as the iPhone 4. I find myself asking “What exactly is this going to do for me?” is this somehow going to make my period feel like glowing rainbows and unicorn glitter farts? What exactly about this magnificent pad is going to be “Radiant”? Does it glow in the dark? That would be different… awkward but different. I mean you would be limited to where you could go with glow in the dark girlie products tucked up against you lady bits. There would be NO yoga pants or shorts in movie theaters… let us not even broach the terrible subject of what passes for leggings these days; which is frankly little more than panty hose.

I venture a bit further past the new RADIANT display and find the not so new black boxes of the U line by Kotex. Not really sure what the idea behind that was, as the difference between the previous line of Kotex and the U line is simply packaging, and you can get it slightly cheaper on the lower shelf where it is not packaged in the special black boxes. Oh! They do have a new “Tween” line… The box is glittered…which leads me to wonder if we as a society are comfortable letting girls wear training pads like they wear training bras? My mother once bought me a training bra , and I think she scared those puppies into non-development for a good decade or so. That is another topic, for another day.

Confused and irritated I turn to try my luck at tampons and I am presented with a larger plethora of options. Pearls, Sport, again with the Tween (in tampon form it really made my stomach ache), some claiming to be “organic” and recyclable which kind of freaks me out and now I find myself wanting to sit down in the middle of the aisle and rock back and forth crying.

In the interest of science and for the benefit of my readers I picked up a box of the new Radiant Infinity Pads and a box of the “Sport” tampons. The box actually says it is for bodies in motion… I am hoping they make me jump faster and run higher.

I searched for the Playtex tampons for the comatose or the paralyzed but they did not have that, I guess there is a specialty store or something. My point is, aren’t all bodies in motion? At least the bodies I would assume would be using tampons… I digress.

 

 

So the Radiant box with all its sparkle and pizazz made me do jazz hands all the way to the check out. Also on the back are some SWEET instructions on how to take a plain white shirt and make it into a Radiant shirt by gluing some craft gems to it. In my old age…of 24-ish I thought is that not just “Bedazzling” and who needs instructions for this? People have been gluing shit to other shit for a really long time; instruction for this behavior usually begins with some macaroni and colored paper in preschool. No one need look any further than Etsy to find that the trend of gluing crap together did not ever die with the infomercials of the Bedazzler, but the box of radiant period pillows tells me this how to be radiant. Please note: at this time I have not made my radiant period shirt so my assessment of the radiant menstrual mattresses may not be entirely through.

Sorry.

The wrapper of these magnificent Radiant Infinity pads is a happy little yellow shade with a wicked sweet design on it; I certainly felt so much more radiant just by looking at it. Oh and they were lightly scented it was like a box of Unicorn and Fairy breath was unleashed on the world. The inner wrapper gave me a direction as to which end of this dazzling feminine product was the front.

GOOD THING TOO… It shames me to admit how often I get that shit mixed up. Nothing like having your pad turned round backward; seriously though I once, did not get a pad stuck down correctly and it flipped back on me. Let me just say that is not an experience that is:

1. Describable and

2. Not something I will ever, EVER do again.

So far I have not had any of my hypothesized Radiant things happen. I have not floated, I do not glow in the dark (either all over or just radiating from my bits) it did not make my cramps magically stop and I have not seen any magical creatures. As I mentioned before though I have not fully joined the radiant sisterhood by making my bedazzled… shit, I mean my Radiant t shirt so maybe then…. I will have the full experience.

Today I have tried the Sporty tampons… because well I moved today. As I do most days… the sport aspect of the non-organic tampon was according to the box appropriate. I did not, however, actually play a sport.

These period poppers are made of Rayon in case you have never actually read the boxes. I have now so you will never have to go there. Did you know that absorbencies of all tampon brands have been standardized? Sweet tea and baby Jesus who the hell had that job? The box also gives you a range of how many grams of absorption the sporty cork can hold. Which is helpful because I have a period gauge, I store it next to my rain gauge. Ladies please write me and let me know if you somehow know how many effing grams of “flow” you go through. I will retract all statements about the ridiculousness of knowing this. Instead of giving me grams how about you give me a chart that says:

• 
  Regular: for the days when you could really get by without feeling like you need to check every twenty minutes for leakage.
• Super: for those days that you are thinking duct taping two together might make life easier.
• Super Plus: for the days you will bleed to death without this rayon and/or cotton fiber, polyester and cotton string plug to keep it all in.

I was also grateful for the clear instructions that clearly reminded me to change the Sporty Stopper and remove it when the monthly bill has been paid, so to speak. Then there was the long blunt warning page about all the horrible things that could happen should I forget about my Sport Cork. Basically my Wahoo could fall off/out and have a seizure and then walk off giving me the finger. (*That’s totally not true… but because I tend to freak out when I read warnings like that… that is what I tell myself could happen*) There was no scent in this box which I found refreshing, because I was a bit worried about what Sporty might smell like….and whether I wanted that anywhere near my lady parts. There has to be a reason no one ever really liked Sporty Spice… Just saying.

So there it is two fabulous reviews of two products that I know every woman with a vajayjay that has not seized and left her, uses. Perhaps it clears up some of the mystery of the aisle for the mens out there… basically it does not really matter what you buy her she probably will not like it. She is having her period for God’s sake women are happy with nothing during this time of their lives. Well to tell the truth I found myself perfectly happy when I found a huge Toblerone at check out. Honestly that was the most radiant part of this whole damn experience… I think I will go finish that bad boy off and wash it down with some Guinness.

Always,

~a

Remember how awesome they were…. yeah well I suddenly did too.

25 Things:

I Bet You Did Not Know About Me

1. I think the Beatles are likely the greatest band in the history of the world. (Most Days…)

2. I was the first born girl on my father’s side of the family in at least fifty years.

3. I hate my hair shorter than my shoulders.

4. I never ate a S’more in my whole life until just a couple weeks ago.

5. I have a security blanket. It has a name, and I know where it is at all times… for security purposes only of course.

6. I have never dated anyone longer than 18 months.

7. I wonder if I have commitment issues

8. It is very likely that I own more hair, makeup, and skincare products than you and your momma put together.

9. I literally have a trunk filled with the entire front pages of newspapers when significant events have happened, and any special section that may have been done.

10. I am terrified of spiders, and large crowds.

11. I hate sleeping alone. Thus a large dog takes up more than his half of the bed.

12. I pray for the dead animals on the side of the road.

13. I kick ass at Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune.

14. I fully believe that I should have a running soundtrack for my life; as such I keep my iPod in my ears a lot. You can frequently tell what I am feeling by the choice of songs.

15. I have all songs neatly divided and sorted into different categories on my iTunes.

16. I own more than 4000 CDs. I stopped counting. I have no idea what to do with them now.

17. I love to write letters, real letters, with an ink pen, on nice paper, and seal it with wax and my seal.

18. I talk to myself…. Probably more than I should.

19. Most every emotion I have is expressed with tears. I hate that.

20. If a movie makes me cry I will likely never watch it again… only exception is the Notebook.

21. I generally hate sappy love stories, in either movies or books…. Again the only exception has been the Notebook.

22. I used to write a lot of poetry, and it was kind of something I was known for in junior high.

23. I am addicted perfume. I buy different scents all the time. I have a few standards but love perfume… I think it is the bottles.

24. I cannot physically walk in high heels. I think they are beautiful, but I really hate them.

25. I am obsessed with Kate Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge.

First Warm Day In May

Time Travel

Ten Years Too Late

“Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there.” ~Otomo No Yakamochi

Do you ever find yourself listening to a song and memories of a place or time come flooding into your mind? Sometimes the memory is so vivid you can almost smell it, touch it, taste the air… want to reach out and touch the people or person you are with… say something you meant to say but did not. I do not want to sound as though I lay awake at night fighting demons of regrets. I have other demons I fight at night and they have little to do with regrets… but my anxiety and constant analysis of every conversation of the day have nothing to do with this post. I made the choices that I felt were best for me at the time I made them, not always fully thought through or analyzed sometimes just purely instinctual for better or worse; I tried to live in my moment.

Isn’t that what you are supposed to do? Live in the moment?

Then why is it that sometimes a song, sometimes not even a song remotely connected to that moment brings the whole moment back again? So fresh and new… the closest to time travel man may ever get. In just the span of a twinkling of a star you would have done anything to maybe change that instant to throw open the gates and lay bare your soul, or shut your mouth any remain silent, or perhaps kiss that person you wanted to and never did... the list of possibilities are as endless as the individuals out there that many read this. (All 10 of my readers…)

Tonight love haunts me… a lost chance, an instant passed before I could stop it. Youth in all its glory and obliviousness but bounded in insecurity and arrogance at times causes you to make a choice in your moment that given proper thought and consideration you would do differently; or just given age and perspective. They say time heals all wounds; in this case time has only deepened this wound.

I have been so vulnerable with you my beloved readers recently I will tell you this tale, my fairy tale, as un-lengthy as possible. I will throw open the gates and lay bare my soul in hopes that the light of day will shine in and perhaps heal what will never be… and maybe, just maybe I will learn to believe in fairy tales again.

There is a man, who lives far away from me… as in an ocean away. We met by chance; complete fluke, discussing the events and political ramifications of September 11^th… on September 12^th, 2001. Somehow what started as a simple discussion that broadened my horizons beyond America and helped me see the world in a bigger picture became a full on enchanted relationship. It seemed so amazing at the time; so unbelievable; so crazy. In fact as my mother and I waited for him to arrive at the airport that Christmas to visit I recall looking at her and asking if I was insane. She told me that I perhaps was, but sometimes magic is found in insanity.

Then there he was. His accent, his eyes and the way they crinkled when he smiled, his easy nature and quick wit made my stomach repeatedly drop through the floor. He was a gentleman like I had never known, and have not known since. The truth was he terrified me; in all the best and scary ways. I was barely 21 and I had only had my crappy relationships… I did not know what to do with this Prince Charming.

I went to see him, in his country, stayed in his home. Fell head over heels for a place I do not live, and standing on a hillside watching a train pass in the distance and the sea beyond I knew love for the first time. Real honest love… pure and simple, easy and whole… then I felt the gates slam shut and my heart scream at my mind. My mind was right though… love had only ever meant hurt both emotional and sadly in some cases physical.

This was a man standing next to me, not the boys I had dated before. A man, full of confidence and goals; he radiated assurance and safety. He was so foreign to me and so far from everything I knew and was comfortable with. The entire time I was there in March/April of 2002 I battled with myself to the point of exhaustion. The adult thing to do of course would be to discuss this with him. I look back now when a song trips the memories and realize at 21 we are still such children… at least I was.

As he stood with me in line at the checkpoint for outgoing international flights, I felt I might explode. Split in half straight down the center. My heart screaming to turn to him and kiss him full on, with all the passion in heart everything I felt and tell him I was not going to leave. I would stay with him, follow him wherever he might go, that his path would be mine. My brain reminding me of all my responsibilities at home, the results of such a decision, the pain my family would feel… The risk, more than anything the risk and so with a hesitant hand and the briefest of pauses and small glance in his direction I handed my passport over to the agent. I walked away. If I have any regrets in this life, it was that walk… that lost moment, chance.

The long flight home locked those gates tighter and tighter and at home it got harder and harder to shut off my mind and my fears. So I hurt him. I hurt him like I have never hurt anyone. I behaved as a child and turned away without as much as a whisper.

A decade has passed and I went back to see him. Hoping that some magic was still there; that somehow the old adage held true: “If you love something let it go, if it returns to you it is yours forever.” The thing that adage does not tell you is what happens if the person who let you go is no longer waiting when you come back.

We are great friends. In fact he may be one of the greatest friends I have ever known he has rescued me in true Princely fashion more than once. I can say truthfully I love him in more ways than he may ever know or understand. I laid my soul, my heart, my fears, my hopes at his feet on this last visit. A decade of change between the two of us and that hurt, that insurmountable hurt like an elephant in the room. I cannot tell you if it is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all. I think I hold to the ignorance is bliss policy a bit more. I wonder now sometimes when I travel back if love knocks twice… if real love, like I felt and have felt for so long comes around again. Do you get a second chance at it? Or do you just settle for something that resembles it the best?

If he had asked me to stay, this last time, I would have without any hesitation or second guessing because I know now it is okay to love and allow yourself to be loved… ten years too late.

love always ~a

 

Just one of the many that pulls me back, time travel.