but then there are the dreams

as i begin to type these words, it is 3:37 a.m. lately, i haven't been sleeping at night - i've been going out to keep company with friends, or staying up watching old tv shows, or updating my blog... so i'm not shocked to be wide awake right now. i need to write - i have things on my mind. and as i type these words, i don't know what will come out, but we'll see. i'm taking a very brave gamble by typing in my blog instead of inking up my real journal, where i usually work out things that are on my mind that i think are best kept to myself.

this evening, i treated myself to a play. when i got there, i bumped into friends, and we hung out together for the night. i enjoyed good company and had a nice time. and i thought, as i pulled off for home in my car, that a nice evening like that with good people felt like enough.

what do i mean by enough?

check my thursday post. the last paragraph. the one where i talk about not missing him, 'cause i was too busy enjoying life. that thought scares me a little. it sounds a little bit like that, "i don't need a man" mantra that bitter women have been prophesying over their lonely futures - speaking solitude into existence. and that is scary, because i have an acute fear of and aversion to ever being one of those bitter women. now to really think about it, i don't think that i am one of those bitter women. but what if i am and i don't know it? what if it's written in the particular stitches of my knit brow, but i can't see the stitches and everyone else can? i mean, what if bitterwomanhood sneaks up on me, like how gray hairs are just found one day, or one day the bathroom scale just says 5 pounds more than it did the last time you hopped on. a conversation with friends tonight just highlighted my need to take a look...

could enough be the mantra of the bitter women? shoooot, enough scares me. it sounds like the sentiment of a person with no faith, no hope, no will to aspire and believe. it sounds like the inherently toxic comfort of someone who settles. i don't like to think of myself as a settle-er. however, lately, the idea of being single just makes sense to me. the idea of actually sleeping regularly in the same bed with another person doesn't appeal to me. the idea of me being a part of a couple is actually beginning to sound foreign - foolish, even. i'm developing a protective callous against watching others love and believe in love, couple up and build families, like that's their thing, not mine. i've had even thoughts of me being the childless "auntie/big cousin" who gives great presents, and whose house is always open to others' children to stay for the weekend while their parents get some time to themselves. and instead of this thought freaking me out and making me frantic about coupling up, i shrug and figure that that imagined life sounds like it has its advantages - that living that life might not be the thing i've always said i wanted or dreamed... but it would more than likely be enough. enough is a double-edged sword. it's good because it certainly has been effective lately to dissuade me from being pressured to settle in with someone, just to be with someone. but it's also bad. because enough keeps me in a mindset to avoid "unnecessary hassle" at whatever cost.

avoiding hassle means not flirting with guys i'm attracted to, like k.b. was trying to encourage me to do tonight. it also means smirking and sarcastically saying, "okay, whatever," when my best friend says she knows someone nice who wants to meet me after hearing about me through her. avoiding hassle also includes reserving my appreciation for compliments for only those compliments that seem simple, pressure-less, and sincere. avoiding hassle has, over time, even come to mean dismissing sincere interest from men by finding reasons why it's better to not even deal with them beyond friendship. that sounds like something that a bitter woman would do. *shudder*

let me let you in on what is only semi-secret... ready?

ready???

i gots NO game. none whatsoever. the flirting games - i never wanted to play them. in fact, i'm somewhat oblivious to when the flirting games are even being played. the closest i ever come to what could abstractly be called flirting is being nice. that's the full extent of my game. that's a result of the avoiding hassle regimen. how many times have i defiantly declared, "forget all that game mess - if he can't just stop playing games and come right out and ask me something or tell me something, i guess it's just not something i need to be worrying about then, is it?" i look at people playing the mating dance mambo and shake my head in condescending rejection - "later for that. i ain't got time for no games." (as if my door would be open if someone wasn't trying to play games.)

so let's add it all up, shall we? too busy trying to enjoy life to miss him. check. embracing the concept of enough as a good thing. check. avoiding hassle by repudiating the cliches of flirting/dating/game playing. check. mm hmm... sounds like fertile ground for prime, grade A quality, firmly rooted, bitter woman to me. iced lemonade coursing the veins. going home to an empty home by choice, then turning around and complaining about being lonely. ewww.

but then there are the dreams. the dreams i managed to snag memory threads from in my haste to start my days. lately, my dreams have been related in some way to this post. my spirit has a knowledge that i don't always comprehend.

as i continue these words, it is the following afternoon - last night, after i finished the previous sentence, i did the strangest thing: i fell asleep! i slept soundly and with a vengeance... but most of this morning was spent fitfully, trying to deny and change the subject matter of my dreams. they lead me to believe that my spirit knows that i am being cowardly. that embracing the concept of enough is a cowardly act, an act of trying to deceive myself - an attempt that is failing with a stellar level of inadequacy. my dreams remind me that hassle isn't the only thing that i am avoiding. they remind me that i am also avoiding the comfort and security that my spirit defiantly believes i can find in an intimate relationship, despite everything that i want to espouse through my refusal to play the game.

through the cloud of pain and out of a timeless human desire for self-preservation, many people foolishly say - when they're tired of seeking love, finding substitutes, and then losing their illusions - that never again will they subject themselves to that cycle. i've never said that. i've never believed that i would be strong enough to resist temptation and go that route. but apparently, somewhere along the line, i made a similarly foolish commitment to try my best not to give myself over again in my entirety. befriend, but don't trust. date, but don't seek longevity. kiss, but don't allow true spiritual intimacy. play the role, but don't believe it will last long. (i wonder how many others share themselves this way?) and ultimately, this get-your-basic-needs-for-company mentality towards the game became don't-even-play-the-game-because-you-can-have-enough-life-and-satisfaction without it - without the effort, without the inconvenience, without the cyclical ups and downs. let the world spin, doing its own thing around you, and live in a plastic bubble. a bubble encasing a glory who revels in being self-absorbed, not having to deal with the problems and mysteries of love, whose "full life" appears pristine from outside the bubble, although that same bubble lacks air. never mind that its occupant fears that the bubble would ever be shaken, dislodging all of the loose ends, and shaking them into a swirling, falling disarray, exposing the latent chaos in all of its dizzying, unsettling reality.

what to do with this confession, this writer asks? two roads diverged in a wood, frost begins before taking the road less traveled. when you come to a fork in the road, take it, i read recently. leave the false security of the bubble, or step outside and play the damn game? settle for enough, or learn how to navigate choppy waters? throw myself into self-indulgence, or make the hard decisions of who i can trust with my time and spirit? perhaps if i didn't love myself so much, this would be easier. if my concept of my spirit wasn't so high - if i didn't feel so protective over the trusting, giving and sensitive spirit i believe i have - it wouldn't be so scary to subject it to the world outside the bubble. but the idea of being loved by someone who deserves my love (and not just me playing the role) is so tempting... but it would require the bravery it takes for me to stop playing myself.

i have no intention of answering this question here. i will have to live out the answer - feel my way through. and i'll also have to deal with the consequences of family and friends and strangers reading this blog and seeing my vulnerabilities, which i'm not always particularly fond of showing. this probably belongs more in my journal than on the blog, but confessional writing from my heart on this blog feels good sometimes. probably because i know i'm not alone - there are too many people out there who aren't even dating, or who won't commit, or who are merely indefinitely playing the role. i guess confessional writing is a way to face my fears of being misunderstood or being stuck in that bubble. it's funny - for someone who claims her biggest fear is being afraid of anything, and who always is challenging herself to face fears - i sure have a lot of phobias, LOL!

thanks for reading.