Posts Tagged ‘respect’

Let Go

December 14, 2016

Move the fuck on.

“Block his number,” my person said succinctly and to the point.

HOLY FUCK.

I had not thought of that.

Then I thought.

Shit.

That’s the right thing to do.

I just unfriended as well off social media and each small step was a little moving in the right direction.

There’s nothing wrong with the guy, fyi, in case you’re wondering.

What’s wrong or perhaps not quite right, or perhaps better yet, what wasn’t working for me, is that I was falling into the same stupid trap again.

Better to let go the person and move the fuck on.

I don’t do myself or anyone else a service when I’m up in fantasy land.

And it wasn’t that good, I remind myself.

No.

It wasn’t bad either, it just didn’t serve, it wasn’t good for me, it didn’t fulfill my heart, I was left wanting a lot more and wanting more from a person who is not capable of offering more is something that I do and I have often crumpled in the face of change, when oh, that rut is so comfy and I know it so well.

And.

Didn’t you see?

I just redecorated and got a new couch for the space.

Fuck me.

I expressed to my person today that I was actually relieved that the guy I was supposed to spend time with last night cancelled.

But in a twist I wasn’t expecting my person added, you deserve to be respected, block his number.

What?

You mean I deserve the time of day, the respect of my schedule, that my needs are important.

Stop the fucking presses.

Yes.

Of course.

And if I don’t step up to that it’s my own damn fault.

So rather than fall down that hole again, Alice decided to take the elevator up to the top of the hill and look around.

See what she can see.

I see yoga in my future.

Signed up for a class tomorrow.

Went today.

Hella stiff and sore and snaggle toothed and old, man I just felt stupid and old.

Then, as I relaxed a little, I did think to myself, lady pants you sat in a desk chair at school for 29 hours, of course your body is out of whack, and you didn’t get more than five or six, max, and I do mean max, hours of sleep for the last four nights.

Give yourself a break and be happy you showed up to the mat.

Expectations always do take me down.

They just lead to resentment.

And a life lived on resentment is not one I wish to have.

Nope.

This lady is all about happy and fun.

Let me repeat that.

Happy.

And.

Fun.

Fun does not need to be roller coasters.

Fun can be writing Christmas cards or sending packages in the mail.

I got my oldest niece her gift today, I saw it last week at Rainbow and was quite taken with it, granted it was more expensive than I had planned on spending, art supplies, but, fuck, I just knew it when I saw it, had her name written all over it.

So.

I got it.

And then I mailed her card and my mom’s Christmas package and my sister’s too, which included a few things for my youngest niece.

It really felt so sweet and good to put their packages in the mail.

I feel blessed that I can send them gifts.

It wasn’t always that way and there were years and lapses in time that I didn’t send my family gifts.

It feels right to make up for that now and to continue fostering connections.

Even if it’s just a card in the mail.

It means I love you.

I do you know.

So much.

Breaks my heart.

I’m ok with that, heart break, I’ve had my share, I’ll probably have more before my days here on this plane are done.

And that’s ok too.

It means I’m alive.

What a fucking gift, this, to be alive, to be in this skin.

It’s not perfect, but it’s mine and I’m ever so grateful for it.

Yup.

A beautiful gift that I get to treat well and respect and care for and love.

I’m getting better at that all the time.

And I do deserve respect.

It felt good to remind myself of that this afternoon.

I had made the phone call check in to my person this afternoon while I was at the beginning of my work shift, although certainly not the beginning of my day–that had started hours and hours before I even got to work.

But I did not block the phone number until late in the afternoon.

When.

Ha.

I was wondering vaguely in the back of my head if he was going to text me today and what would I say and.

What the fuck, Martines?!

Ugh.

Block the number now.

It’s like a dangerous default, I don’t even know my brain is going there.

This is why I work with people, this is why I make myself accountable to others, their perspectives are so fucking important.

I walk around with god damn blinders on.

“He’s totally interested in you,” my girlfriend said to me years and years ago.

“No he’s not, he’s gay,” I told my friend.

“Gay?  Are you out of your mind, he’s literally beating your face with his penis, Carmen, he’s so not gay,” my friend said with incredulity, then dipped her french fry into the pool of ranch dressing on her plate.  “Seriously, he has a great big boner for you and it’s a not a gay boner.”

Turns out.

He wasn’t gay.

Once in a while.

I think.

Oh, look, a new perspective, I’ve taken off  the blinders.

But.

You know.

I’m always in my way.

I’m the one thing in my way.

So, pray to God, I’m serious, get the fuck out of your own way.

Go have fun.

Go play pinball.

Go to yoga.

Let go.

Move on.

And don’t worry.

You’re on a collision course with what is supposed to happen.

You just can’t see around the corner.

You’re not blind.

But you’re not a mind reader either.

Just saying.

I Don’t Know Why I Kissed You

January 27, 2014

But I just want to be friends.

He told me after coffee today.

Oh thank God.

Not that I wasn’t interested in more than just friends, I was, that was why I was there in the middle of my day in the middle of a neighborhood I don’t go to when I am not working, because it reminds me of work.

Kind of fun, actually to be in a coffee shop I normally only duck into to grab an Americano and hit their restroom before heading to the park.

Good people watching.

Ran into a guy I took a TS Eliot class with in Madison, at the University, taught by Professor Serena Pondrom.

I won’t ever forget her.

She said, “my tests will make you smarter and you will actually learn when you are taking them.”

Fuck my mother.

She was right.

It hurt taking those written exams, I remember how cramped my hand would be after filling a blue book, or two, I think my final I might have actually written so much that I started in on a second book.

I learned how much I knew when I was doing the writing and it astounded me.

It was also painful, I felt like my brain was being yanked out of my ear, but I was learning and I left that final realizing that I knew a great deal more about TS Eliot than I had believed and to this day that course remains one of the best classes I ever had at University.

That was James, the young gay guy, who still is gay, not quite so young, but still looking good.

Then I ran into my old Sifu from the Kung Fu academy I attended early in my living in San Francisco–Daniel at the Praying Mantis School of Kung Fu–and we chatted briefly as well, kung fu, Burning Man, work.

It was good to see my life unfolding in the golden sunlight pushing into the coffee shop, smell the good smells in the shop and hang out with my friend.

I know why you kissed me.

Duh.

I am irresistible.

Giggle.

I am attractive.

I look like I might kiss back pretty good.

And maybe if there had been more chemistry, the kiss was a bit of a surprise, there might have been more, but there was not the chance to really explore it and now, there won’t be.

“Just let me clarify,” I said, “the kiss was completely a non-sequitor, won’t be happening again, and you just want to be friends.”

“Yes,” he said, “are you ok with that?”

“Of course!” I said.

You know what?

I really am.

Oh, my friend’s great, smart, healthy, attractive, a dream boat, but not for me.

Thank God.

Get another one out-of-the-way, let go the fantasy, and direct my attention to the man you want me to be with, I don’t have time to waste on men who aren’t interested in being with me, the quicker I find out the better.

I mean I am willing to do the work, so let’s get to it.

I am willing to get hurt.

I am willing to try different things.

I am willing to date and fall down and kiss people and be kissed and thank you so much for your honesty.

“No, it really is ok,” I grinned at my friend and then said, “now I don’t feel so damn self-conscious about dancing in front of you,” and my feet broke out into a little dance jig.

Prince was playing on the stereo.

“I just want your extra time and your kiss.”

My God has a fucking funny sense of humour.

“You saved me so much time,” I added, “I really appreciate knowing.”

“I want to be your friend, I want relationships with people in San Francisco, I am going to be here for a while.” He concluded.

“You got it, I want to be your friend too,” I said and smiled.

That felt great.

We hugged.

It was special.

But not stupid special.

Just good.

Clear.

Then I hopped on my bike and headed off to my Sunday night commitment at Church and Market and I don’t know why and I don’t really care to figure it out, but I felt up lifted, elated, and really quite happy.

“What do you want to do right now?” I asked myself as I realized I had a spare half hour to kill before I needed to be where I needed to be.

“Books!”

I gleefully darted into Aardvark and cruised the aisles.

I picked up a copy of Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

I read IQ84 a couple of years ago and it really stuck with me.

I think I shall like this too.

What else shall I like?

Acceptance.

“You look amazing, your physical recovery is incredible,” he said to me outside of Our Lady of SafeWay this evening as we were winding up.

“I mean, I remember your beautiful face, but it’s been a while since I have seen you, and you look great.” He finished and gave me a big hug.

We were talking about a little incident that happened yesterday when I was hula hooping with my housemates daughter out on the sidewalk decorated with chalk hearts and candy skulls.

She had reached up and said, “what’s this?”

Pinching the excess skin underneath my upper arm.

Ha.

I was wearing a sleeveless shirt and it was all hanging out.

“This is what happens when you lose a lot of weight and your skin has stretched out from it,” I said, being calm and not grabbing her hand as she reached up to touch it again.

“Wierd,” she said and then went back to coloring hearts on the sidewalk.

“Hey,” she said suddenly, “betcha can’t hula hoop with all three of the hoops.”

“Let me try,” I said and slipped all three around my middle.

Turns out I can.

“You are amazing,” she said.

Extra arm skin completely forgotten.

How refreshing to see that, like I am just this person and I look this way and it’s all a gift, the body, the experiences, the evidence always with me that I showed up and continue to show up and do the work and I get to have some amazing physical recovery.

Fantastic.

And I am a great friend.

And eventually, sooner rather than later, I will be a great girlfriend.

Now.

Who’s next for a kiss?

 


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