Dinner for Three and Dumb Panic
Last night he came over and issued an invitation from Main Lady (ML) to come over and grill vegitables that evening. We have never before crossed the streams, so to speak, and the prospect filled me with the most amazing sensation.
Pure. Animal. Terror. He could have held a gun to my head and my heart would have been more calm.
And for the first time I found out that he felt just as scared as me. There's no reason for these feelings, good lord! but somehow a united dinner with this profoundly kind, sweet lady scared the hell out of both of us. But sometimes you have to do things that are scary in order to do the right thing, eh? It takes me a long time to follow good advice, but remembering those kind suggestions I got from y'all back in January I uttered the sentence, "Well, it's what the internet thinks I should do."
And we mobilized! It took me two cigarettes and another beer, but I ended up in his car, driving to his house. The sky was bright, but the walk to the door was dark. However, it was warm inside, and we were greeted by his various animals the cheerful peak-around head of his Main Lady, beaming a happy Hello! to her man and his guest. We passed jovial small talk and a truly pleasant dinner. I made them laugh, they made me welcome. The love between them felt very warm. Only once did I discretely swallow a scream into my beer, at which point I hand signaled to fella that it was time for me to go.
This is one of those times when it is glaringly obvious that my heart will feel what it likes, even to the point of tearing itself up, even if there's not much reason to. In the car, tears, like soldiers, charged down my face. He walked me into my house, patienty waited while I blubbered, asked me what was wrong, apologized for putting me in an upsetting position. I explained no, that I, like other extroverts, operate this way sometimes, that tears and pain don't always indicate harm but rather uncomfortable and profound learning. I sounded as smart as I could with snot dripping into my mouth. Even though I was just excusing histrionic behavior, it was kind of a big moment for us.
And then, of course, as always, he left. I am getting very good at loving a man who leaves.
Out of my twisted tangle of emotion and reason came this inconclusive nonsense: When I sat with them and ate dinner I was a guest, as I will always be a guest, a tolerated trespasser. For all that I am permitted, I am still walking on another's land. I was mourning the loss of this man who sat right next to me.
What is wrong with me?
In the house, I got it--love infinitum, comensality, tribe. In the car, I fell apart. I want him more than I will ever have. Is this the hunger of the selfish? Or the monogamous? Or just the pain of cruising the learning curve?
Last edited by Bricklie; 08-27-2011 at 12:33 AM.