I’ve had two major romantic relationships in my life and I’m happy to report that I have survived both. That doesn’t mean that both of them didn’t kill me, the person I am, the spark that makes me an acquired taste. However, somehow, something or someone resuscitated me allowing me to share my story with you.
In my teenager years, I had a friend who helped me cultivate a goofy voice I would use in telling my stories. The voice was a combination of two of our teachers and I used it a lot until I discovered that my husband was not only an alcoholic, but also a heroin addicted who cheated on me and eventually deserted my sons and I. Basically, that whole experience killed me, or should I say I allowed it to kill me. The storyteller that I was for my children died when the reality of my life hit the fan and that goofy voice of mine disappeared.
One day, I was reading a story to my friend’s young son. He was maybe two or three years old so that it would make the timeline about five years after my marriage ended. I don’t recall what I said, but I said it in that goofy voice of mine. He placed his tiny hand on my chin and pushed my mouth open as he asked, “Gail, what you got in there?” It was then I realized that I hadn’t used that voice in years and this young child had not heard it before. I made the connection then that I had allowed my ex-husband to kill me. I allowed him to murder a huge part of who I am, the fun loving, confident creature he had fallen out of love with to pursue a relationship with another woman and addiction. That was a turning point for me and slowly, I began to walk back into the land of the living.
During my “internet years”, another part of me found life, a part of me I never realized existed. I discovered a storyteller of a different type dwell inside me and thus I became quite the writer of erotica. It was a very powerful voice to discover. She was so confident, totally in control and she knew what she wanted and how to get it. It was that voice that led me to my second relationship. It was that voice that led me to John the pilot. My time with him was exciting and free. He allowed me to be whomever I chose to be. I would start a story line and he would pick it up and run with it. I had a lot of fun, but it was short lived because I dared to ask my playmate to be my partner in life.
It took a while, but eventually reality crept in and eroded that spark that makes me an acquired taste. I kept compromising myself, choosing lies to live with instead of risking being alone. Once again, I was dying, I was letting John kill me slowly with his web of lies. Every time I tried to turn my head so as not to see what was plainly in front of my face, I became more tangled in the web until, unbeknownst to me I died a second time. Once I was freed from his web of deceit by the other woman, I plummeted to the hard, cold earth and laid there in a dreamlike state. I tried desperately to feel something other than pain and loneliness by returning to my “internet years”, but all that did was make me wearier.
A year ago, I found the strength to lift my head and then stumble to a standing position and walked away from the “internet years” I had been trying to relive in hopes of getting over John. For a year I’ve been dragging my feet, but stepping towards a new light. It would be easy to turn around and go back to my old habits of trying to achieve immediate, but short-lived satisfaction, but that is not what I want. I don’t want to have a third relationship that pummels me and leaves me for dead. I want a relationship where someone with an acquired taste finds my goofy voice pleasing and who finds my flights of fancy entrancing. I want someone who will give me hope.
I didn’t realize it, but I met someone like that a number of months ago. When I first met him, he took my breath away, but I did nothing about it. Months later, I met him again and once again, he took my breath away. This time I did a little something about it, but still found myself slinking away to the safety of my lonesomeness. However, he became the splinter in my brain and I kept wondering about the possibility of”What if?” Then, as chance would have it a phone call gave me the idea that maybe there was something to be had. Maybe, if I wanted someone badly enough, I could find the strength to make it happen. I didn’t want to regress to my “internet years” way of communicating, so I devised another plan.
I asked around to see if what I was feeling had any potential whatsoever. I was told, there was a chance and I felt a spark of life ignite inside me. I knew I would regret it if I didn’t try to do something, so when the opportunity presented itself, I made a plan. I found a way I could meet with him innocently and see if there was something real to the fantasy that had been the splinter in my brain. I devised a plan and I acted on a chance of fate and went to see him today. It was a pleasant chat, nothing out of the ordinary, but to me it was the breath of life. I knew I had to do something, say something because this was my only chance and I didn’t want to walk away thinking I could have, I should have, if only I would have, so I did it.
Before leaving, before leaving this pleasant visit I spoke the truth. I told him that I had no real need to be where I was except for me being able to see him. I told him that if he was ever interested in hanging out with me, he knew how to find me. He said that he appreciated me saying that. The small talk continued for a minute or two longer and I knew I wasn’t going to get my “and they lived happily ever after” fantasy, but I took one last shot and repeated myself and he too repeated himself and I knew it was time to leave.
You know what, I wasn’t sad and I wasn’t angry either. I sat in my car and noted to a friend that I had given it a shot, but I thought it was a bust. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” I shot out in a text message and realized that I had accomplished my mission. It wasn’t the fantasy that I had planned, but I said what I wanted to say and I said it in the manner I had hoped to. I was confident and from what I understand, most men don’t like a confident woman. However, I’m not looking for most men, I’m looking for my man, a man who possesses an acquired taste for me.
Oddly enough, today’s little adventure made me feel more hopeful than I have in a very long time. I may not have received the response I was looking for, but I didn’t feel defeated either. I felt like I saw an opportunity, I formulated my thoughts and I acted on a feeling, a warm life giving feeling that didn’t seem contrived or manipulative. No one was playing games with my head or trying to use me, I felt something and I was strong enough to act on it. It felt good, it made me feel alive and it made me realize that those two relationships may have crippled me momentarily, but they didn’t kill me, not really. They were just teaching me what I don’t want. What I do want is out there, waiting for me, I just know it. When it happens and it will happen, I raise my eyes to the skies and yell with confidence, “She’s Alive!”
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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