My virtual fortune cookie this morning said “Savor your freedom – it is precious.”
I smiled.
Been clicking on that thing for 8 years now, this is a new one. The exact right thing at the exact right time.
Hot Neighbor has been around quite a bit lately. Bless him. Holding me together when I felt like flying apart. Imparting his ancient Scorpio alien wisdom. He is a really spectacular big spoon and he brings me pie.
He disappeared for a month or three. I asked him about it and he said he had been experiencing his own melancholia. He described it as catlike. Sleeping a lot. Hiding out, wanting to be petted, but not too much.
Sounds way more dignified than mine. I lean towards the canine side of things. Slobbering on myself and everyone around me, chewing bones down to nothing. Prone to getting excited at the littlest bit of attention and then cringing at the mess I made because I didn’t go out when I should have.
Postcard from 1952 came on as I was writing this. I have a 9 hour playlist I write to for about half as long every day and somehow it always appears in the shuffle. And I cry.
I didn’t cry today. This is huge.
A few days ago I let out a righteous bellow at the universe, calling my power back. I felt it flowing into me, like one of those paper lanterns, holding it still forever then in one little moment, the air is hot enough and it just floats.
Up, up and away went my final fuck.
I left the Land of Melancholy and was immediately transported back to that delightful space of zero gravity/zero fucks. Nothing holding me down. God how I missed this weightless/lightness.
I was grieving the loss of my Frankenmonsterlover aka the Giant. For like a month. Put myself on lockdown. Got catlike myself, “Don’t fucking touch me, leave me alone, let me cry and sleep in no discernible pattern.” Hot Neighbor was the only one allowed to pet me, and even then, one too many touches and I hissed at him.
He came back anyways.
We talked some more. I explained that my 3 years single I had been treating as an experiment. Throwing myself into everything with vigor, quite often blowing shit up then retreating making notes and exploring what went right or wrong. Then go back into the field, do more research and try something else. It’s science.
Not a bad way to be really, except when I get too heavy into the theory and forget to go out and live.
Feel free to laugh at me, I am laughing right now. But after the Giant told me he was seeing someone else I continued being monogamous. I know right?
Let me explain.
I get hurt and I immediately crawl into bed with someone safe and fixate/fix myself that way.
Also, he left an open fun thing with me for a normal relationship with her.
Except he hasn’t left…we still talk and see each other.
I somehow decided I had to let everyone go.
Wolfling was easy, the rest, not so much.
Young Un had been holding my hand for a while and he is just sex walking.
Drogo did one of his magic telepathically linked check-ins, and I missed him.
Home was maintaining safe distance, but I could feel him watching out for me.
Poet resurfaced, how do you abandon someone whose greatest fear is abandonment? I can’t really, so I let him in, but he is physically far away so that seemed safe enough, until it wasn’t.
Even Gelfling reappeared, but I didn’t take the bait…yet. I am waiting for it to get warm again.
Oh wait, I am lying, I had a date with 88. It was a really good date and I really should have fucked him.
Might still, I left that door ajar. Who am I kidding, my door is never locked to those that have the password.
Home called me out on my lunacy. He said “It amazes me how fast you are willing to give up what you are for one guy.”
I mewled a weak retort about how I do want to find everything in one person, I do. But I also don’t want to lose myself.
Giant seemed ideal, the things he wants and the life he has are compatible with mine.
But he wants a normal relationship with a normal girl.
But…he still wants me too, he never left me, I left him.
Epiphany in 3-2-1
What he really wants his cake whilst eating me too, whilst I have my own cake, and him.
Um, I’ve always been the girl with the most cake. I know exactly how good that feels.
Why would I deny him that, or me?
We still talk, he reads my words as fast as I can type them, listens to the music I gifted him to the point of wearing out the discs.
He says he doesn’t want me waiting around for him.
Neither do I.
I have unfinished business elsewhere.
He says he doesn’t want me to go.
Neither do I.
I have unfinished business with him.
He says he doesn’t want me feeling second.
I really don’t.
I realized mid-write. He wants her that way.
He wants me too, exactly as he found me. Which is exactly what I wanted. As is.
He might actually be the Frankenmonsterlover I thought he was, with sprinkles, icing and a cherry on top.
