The man I love told me that he loves me this weekend. I responded with a basic stage of grief...Denial. I recognized that I have been put through the trials of understanding our relationship since the beginning. Understanding myself for the sake of a man that I believe that could be the yin to my yang, or the solution to my equation. Better still, the Martin to my Malcolm.
It's this solid intellectual understanding that made me decide years ago that I would NEVER let a man prove me crazy, life could prove me crazy, family could prove me crazy, hell.... school is my source of crazy, but a man would NEVER make me lose the "bit of sense" that I have allowed myself to gather over the years. Since he has come into my life, I have accused of him of poisoning me, lost myself on the freeway (creating a wild scene and running partially into the woods), and wild'n out on twitter.
Not saying that this is not one side of a two sided coin. I have also had to work through issues with my best friend because he hit on her, and I have had to depend on different strangers for kindness because he has left me ass-ed out without a place to stay on 2 different occasions. However, when I knew that he was in personal crisis, I reached out to him and gave myself as much as possible to let him know that I was there. I have made effort to be available for him when he is or does want to be attentive. I have taken this time to learn to love myself to be able to tell him, when he asks, how to love me.
All this being said and recognized, he told me that he loves me this weekend. I responded with.... Denial. To add to the entire misconstrue of my mind, I have moved to a place where we are okay as we are, not moving anywhere but cycling through a stagnant, painful, situation that I have felt that he doesn't want to change, so I distance myself until I run into him again and then we entertain our yins and yangs... through thought and processing, understanding that is as infinite as numbers, yet as limited as the letter o.
There was a time when no matter how crazy life around me got, I could always stay solid and strong. Unquestionably rooted and unmovable. This summer, I was the stability in the lives of so many, and I have been able to keep my focus and my drive through the insanity of the world collapsing around me, but it took a man for me to not only lose my footing but a sense of myself. It was not long ago that I was confronted in the bathroom by a friend, of a man friend, that I had allowed to be an associate in my life. She "checked" me for simply walking down the hall with him (and if he told her anything else, he didn't tell me.). I was appalled and quite livid, I am too old and too grown for some little two bit Yorkie to be barking up my Lioness. I took it to him. And now, I had found myself, in my own satirical way, walking up on another woman, but this time not to "mark my territory" but to get clarity of a situation. I am not comfortable used as a woman on the side or a second option, not saying that options can't be in the picture, but when I am not sure of where my standing is options are more than options. They may be opportunities or more so functions in the life of someone that I would like to be a function or answer for.
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