To be honest, I blamed myself. I chase. I text. It’s my fault. I’m driving him away. I guess I was so lonely I forgot my own worth.
In between lovers I am reminded of how good it is to be alone; to have all the space in my head only for me. But layers and layers of me wish for someone to wrap my arms around, for someone to give goodnight texts to and good morning hellos. In between lovers, I get lonely. I cry sad and lonely tears and feel like the sad and tragic salsa songs that a forlorn Hector Lavoe and Eddie Palmieri sang about. I feel like the song, Triste y Vacia. I listened to that song today. I listened to it and thought of the first man I ever loved. I suppose a part of me always will. I know what you’re thinking. Not in that way. Just in the way that I look at my daughters and see his nose and his “good” taino hair. In that sort of way. But I moved on.
Or perhaps I pick lousy men. Maybe I don’t chose well. I pick men who are emotionally unavailable and have inflated egos. Maybe that’s my thing. Maybe it’s what I like. I don’t know.
Or maybe I’m just enjoying life too much to be attached to someone who will only want to domesticate me. I never ever in my life will allow a man to domesticate me. Not ever. I was June Cleaver for 15 years. That was enough. I do not long to be June Cleaver, I long to be a sort of morph between Frida Kahlo and Gloria Steinem. That, my lover, is who I am. I shan’t be domesticated. No.
Sometimes I find myself talking about my latest someone, telling a friend what he said or didn’t do that every man should, and I cannot believe what I settled for. I settled. I never settle. I always kick men to the curb with the quickness for any deal breaker I may have on my list. Among them: alcoholism, drug addiction (current or former), bad relationship with his mother, and laziness. I cannot nor will not ever date a man who does not work and/or is lazy. No.
I think that I am done with searching. For two years, searching has been fun. It was nice to look and search and date. But it isn’t fun anymore. It isn’t fun to search anymore. It was. It can be at times. But I am no longer interested in searching. I am no longer interested in finding a tie to a person who turns out to not be what I need.
This of course, will lead to a few quiet Saturdays. But I’d much prefer a quiet and sober Saturday to being with a person who does not own up to who they are, or waste my time chasing shadows thinking that they are rainbows. I do not want empty rainbows.
If you are to be with me, understand that I am a wild woman. I am not a safe place. I am not a plane Jane little girl who has a safe little life. Oh, I am a good mother and a family woman. But I am wild. I am a wild woman and I will always be such. This is the heart of who I am. So if you are to be with me, know this about me and do not wish to tame me because you will fail.
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