I have many men in my life, but I have never had one of my own. Sure, I was married, but he was never faithfully mine. I spent nine years with John the Pilot and when that relationship ended, I found out that there was always another woman. I’ve been in love too many times to count, but none of those men led to a lasting, mutually exclusive relationship. I think I can safely say, that I have never truly had any one man be devoted to me, to be the “man in my life”. Now, ask me if I care.
Sure, it would be nice on some level to have a man come home to me day after day, year after year that I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, would be faithful to me while out and about. However, I don’t think that’s true for anyone. I’m not talking about sexual encounters, that’s a whole different ballgame. I’m talking about a man who is faithful to one woman and only one woman, I don’t think that actually exists. Same can be said for a woman being faithful to one man (or any other lifestyle combination you want to choose). What I’m talking about, is how as a society, we share. We share all the time, but no one ever really thinks about it. Those happily married couples share themselves with others all the time, but they are not cheating (unless they are), they are simply being the man or woman in someone else’s life without being conscious of it.
It takes a village, and I for one have a village of men that share themselves with me. I have always gotten along better with men than women, so it’s no wonder that for a large part of my life, my best friends have been men. My favorite teachers, doctors, etc., have all been men and therefore, they are the men in my life. I have surrounded myself with a village of men that willingly give themselves to me and be my “husband” when I need them to be. I consider my mechanic; my car husband and I have told him so. Yes, he’s married with children, but he’s my car husband. I trust him implicitly and do as he says, because we have been in a relationship for over twenty years. I don’t believe he has ever lied to me or led me astray, I can count him when I need him the most and yes, he has been a part of this family.
I honestly feel the same way about my accountant, lawyer, plumber, chiropractor, therapist and optometrist, whom I’ve known since I was 18. We once acknowledged that our relationship has lasted longer than both of our marriages combined. My work mentor is a man and I have told him that I would follow him into battle. I have a grade school chum that I honestly believe would do “something about it” if I asked him to, but I would never ask him to because, well, I just wouldn’t. My brother, my kids and several other male friends, boy scout and spiritual leaders, the guys at the hardware store and favorite take out restaurants, I know I can count on to provide me with the support I need, along with a side of fries. Yes, these are the men in my life and I’m very happy for that.
Sure, I miss the companionship I once shared with John the Pilot, the inside jokes and making memories, but thinking about those intimate moments, is very confusing. I’ve been told that no one would have hung around that long if there wasn’t love involved on some level, but I’ll never know. He left and never looked back. I never received an apology or an explanation, no closure to speak of, but it’s been three and a half years of being on my own and I’m fine. I’m fine because of all the men in my life, the ones that share themselves with me for a moment and then go home to their significant others. I kind of feel like a bartender, because they share so much with me as well. It’s give-and-take and isn’t that what one does with the man in their life?
I have spent most of today alone and it’s been a good day. No one to argue with, no one to explain myself to, I really hate that part of a relationship and no one to tell me what to do. However, I also don’t have anyone who as my father would say, “Gives a rat’s ass” about what I’m doing right now. If memory serves me, I didn’t like caring about someone so much, wondering where they were and when they would be home. Then, there were the moments when I actually dreaded the sound of the backdoor opening, wondering what I was going to have to deal with when they reached the top of the stairs. Yeah, sadly, that’s what I remember most about having a “man in my life”.
I know that there are different stories out there, but they are not mine to be had. I suppose, maybe they could be, but not really. I’ve always thought of myself as the one who records other’s lives, not the one having the life to be recorded. I’ve taken so many photographs of people living their lives and I share them as gifts in hopes that they will see themselves as I see them; beautiful, perfect, loved. I often wonder what others see when they look at me. I assume, they see a sad and lonely old lady who doesn’t have a “man in her life”, so she has to borrow theirs. True, but I always give them back, I don’t play for keeps, I don’t think I was ever meant to. I tried, twice, but…
Like I said, I do have men in my life, but they don’t have me. It’s probably better that way, nothing to see here folks, move along.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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