Even during the break-up conversation John was endearing, at one time reciting a Langston Hughes poem about chance and possibility, and later, after I'd said I should leave, he walked to my side of the table, put his arms around me and stayed there, only after a minute or two, saying matter of factly, "Ok, I need to weep now."

All of which made it harder than I thought it would be. I shed a few tears inside his house, but by the time my ass touched the seat of my car, I was crying hard.

Yesterday, he'd suggested plans for tonight: make dinner, watch a movie at my house, stay over. But this morning, I woke up with another man in my bed (we didn't have sex). I watched Jose sleep as the sun broke over his shoulder and torso, and it occurred to me that the fact that I'd let him sleep over at all, innocent as it was, was evidence enough that I'd made a choice, and it wasn't staying with John. If I let him come over tonight, I'd feel a bit sluttish (2 nights, 2 men) and I know I'd be paranoid about making sure all evidence of Jose was eliminated, and that felt too much like cheating, even if John and I never spoke of being exclusive, or not dating other people. So when he called to finalize plans, my response was, "I don't want to make dinner or watch a movie. I need to talk."

Cliched as it was, I listened to Beyonce's "Halo" over and over on the way to his house. Yes, I'm still on my Beyonce trip, months later than the rest of the country, but hey, she's been a bit of a lifeline this past week, so I'm not ashamed to admit it. It fortified me, tweaking the lyrics as a I sang, so that it spoke to me about being in love with Love or the Universe or the best of who I am, and finally, just trusting that my idea for Love in my life is so much smaller than what I am actually blessed with. There's some cosmic energy stronger than I out there and singing Halo on my way to speak my truth, I took great comfort (albeit a cheesy, high school, GLEE-like comfort) that this immense, benevolent energy,

it's my saving grace
everything I need and more
I know it won't fade away
I'm letting the walls just fall away
They didn't even put up a fight
I found a way to let You in
I've been awakened
I'm never gonna shut You out
Everywhere I'm looking now
I'm surrounded by Your embrace
Hit me like a ray of sun
burning through a dark night
You're the only one that I want
Think I'm addicted to Your light
I swore I'd never fall again,
but this don't even feel like falling
Gravity can't forget
To pull me back to the ground again

I parked in front of his house, took a deep breath, holding on to the vibration of my version of Halo, and said out loud, "I know You've got my back," as I walked in the door.

I could tell he knew what was coming by the concern in his eyes.

I told him I don't like the woman I am with him, always trying to figure out which page in which book he's in so I can be there, too, neglecting that I have a perfectly wonderful book to hang out in, forgetting even, until it's too late, that I am not here to accommodate his every whim or mood. I told him that his desire to buy me dinner for taking him to the airport was revealing. You buy dinner for a friend that takes you to the airport, but you take your lover to dinner the night before you leave because you're not going to be with them for five days. I told him that I'd wanted him to take me to a nice dinner, like he had offered, not ending up in casual clothes at a casual restaurant. I told him that I want to be treasured, I wanted his actions to be evidence of his affection for me.

I told him that he'd been pretty clear with what he could offer (essentially a "one foot out the door" relationship) and that my responsibility was in hoping that he'd wake up one day and realize that I'm it, that I'm the one he loves. That's just no way to sustain me or him or us. I told him that I couldn't make enough onion bread or cashew cheese (recipes of mine he loves) to make him love me, that if he isn't sold in three months of dating me, then I'm not it.

He told me he understood where I was coming from, that it's true that he hasn't been able to meet me in my world as much as either of us wanted, and that he's been pained by his inability to embrace all of what I have to offer. That was the hardest thing to hear, the thing that in the end, made me weep once I was in the safety of my car: For the first time since we've been dating, I finally get that he does see who I really am, that in his way, he's awed by me and by how right we are for one another in so many, many ways. He simply doesn't have the emotional capacity right now to love me, to adore me, as he said, he knows I deserve. Our timing was just off. We should have met five years ago or in another year. That a healed and whole John would have been grateful for a chance to honor me with the best of his love, that? That's what made me cry.

In the end, it was a simple calculus, but the answer offered none of the comfort of a well executed formula. In the end, we were two people who needed to take our first few steps away from one another in months, and it was hard.

So we stood in his living room, just before I left, holding each other, and he began to cry. I gripped tighter, not wanting to let go, but prepping for the inevitable, trying to steel us both for the coming, final separation. I think of him now, his sadness, his regret, his not understanding why he couldn't muster enough love for me, and I ache for him. And here I am again, trying to be in his shoes, in his book, living his words. This stops here.

With hours between the conversation and now, I'm sad, tired and weary, but also relieved and even proud of myself. I get it like I haven't before that my needs aren't too big, too needy, too much. It isn't that I'm not worth loving, and I finally (finally!) see that that's never been it. I'm not going down that road this time. I drove right past it, without even a sideways glance. I'm looking at that old lie and seeing the big "t" Truth right there in the middle of it: I'm worth loving me. The only person I ever had to prove it to was me. And there's not anything that's going to get in the way of dedicating myself to loving me the best I can from here on out, because, fuck, I am a spiritually empowered woman and it's about time I start living like one.

Here's to a new beginning. And thanks, John, for helping deliver me back to myself. I'd been away so long, I almost forgot it's a really great place to be.

R&B, how I have missed you...

Last week, I re-discovered my abiding love of R&B while trying to find just the right music to get me through my last hours at work before my much needed two week vacation. Whether old school Marvin Gaye or Curtis Mayfield, standards like Mary J, or pop-leaning Beyonce and Rihanna, I'm a sucker for it all.

In high school I loved Boys II Men as much as the next girl, but for the most part, I was an aspiring indie-rocker (I'd been in unrequited love with a friend for years who had an encyclopedic knowledge of all things indie-rock; I was trying to score points). But in college, most of the music in the office I worked in was R&B or hip-hop, and this is when my love affair began. At work, I was the only white person, and not knowing much musically about anything but white rock bands no one had ever heard of, I often felt like I stuck out more than I wanted to, but my fall for R&B was quick and hard, and my desire to somehow fit in wasn't a necessary condition. There's something in the drama of it, the sweeping declarations of love, the plaintive sing-song wailing of heartbreak, the often sexy as hell sensuality, the wanton disregard for self-care in the name of wild devotion to another, that registered on a cellular level. Those same qualities later drew me to Spanish music and even Gospel, but coming back to R&B after several years of neglect was like recalling a first, sweet love.

So, I've been hitting the R&B hard this last week. It really was an accident that I had an R&B playlist on Pandora playing when the new guy I met last weekend came over to hang out while I did some food prep and holiday knitting. I wasn't trying to set a mood. Yet, it weaved a subtle web in the background as we talked and got to know each other, and as the hour progressed, I found myself feeling more and more drawn to him, despite knowing that I don't have it in me to date two men at once or the desire to dodge my integrity around honesty and forthrightness.

I'm still trying to pinpoint what it is I find so maddeningly attractive about this new guy. He's shorter than me, not in the greatest shape (though his self-deprecating humor about it and willingness to be active anyway is endearing). He lost his job a couple months ago and is now working as a busser to get by. He's an artist with work exhibited in a local cafe. He is not, like most men, used to getting what he wants (in his words, "Would I be bussing tables right now if I got what I wanted?"). He is used to dreaming big and working hard and has overcome much. He shares about his life and asks about me in equal measure. There's a way his lips move around his crooked teeth that sharpen his words and make his laughter both resonant and bright. He's considerate and kind. Long, dark eyelashes sway languidly over happy eyes and his long, dark hair frames his face pleasantly. I find myself distracted with visions of holding back his hair while kissing him. All in all, he's not conventionally hot, but there I was beholding the beauty in him. 

And this confuses me. I'm invested in another man. True, we haven't had the conversation about exclusivity, but I think if our situations were reversed, I'd think his attraction to another woman was telling. I have this sinking feeling that I am attracted to this new guy because right now he's uncomplicated and it's all confident flirting and bold moves. I know this territory so well and I'm so good at it that I slide into it without much intention. I'm not good later on, when the "just what is it we're doing here?" begins to form between me and whatever man. I don't know how to navigate those waters well, and that's right where I am with the man I've been with.

So, just what is my attraction to this new man telling me about my feelings for the man I'd be with exclusively if it were up to me? I'm frustrated with him, and there's nothing I can do to make things go my way. I have someone who is so close to exactly who I want, and the only option is to let go. This new guy reminds me that there are interesting, kind, available men out beyond the morass I've made of trying to hold space for a man who's on the fence. This new guy is an opportunity to press pause on all of it and get clear again on what it is I'm looking for, on what I want and need.

A couple days before the man I've been seeing left for the holidays, he called and said, "I'd like to take you out for a nice dinner tomorrow night." So, I'm thinking Soif or maybe even Oswald's. I decide on my highest, sexy heels and lowest cut shirt in blues and greens and golds that make my eyes sparkle.

When we speak a couple hours before meeting the next night, I decide to ask where he's taking me, and he mulls it over aloud, throwing out sushi, Thai, Malabar, all casual dining and not one of the nicer-type restaurants in town. He asks me what I'm interested in. Instead of saying, "I'm interested in you taking me out to a nice restaurant like you'd suggested yesterday," which looking back would have been a perfectly acceptable response, I say that Malabar sounds fine. I ask about what he's wearing and he says casually, as if the invitation to a nice dinner hadn't roll off his lips, "Nothing special." Again, inwardly disappointed, I mentally re-adjust my outfit toward the casual.

The dinner was pleasant enough, and we decided to sleep at his house that night. Once we've settled in bed, my arm resting on his chest, I start to nod off. It wasn't long before he says, "I like feeling your hand on me, but can we settle into our own spaces right now?" in other words, no touching. I withdrew without surprise or protest, I was too tired to care, or so I told myself. I tried to sleep again, but found myself smoldering, filling with resentment, and I began to wonder what the fuck I was even there for. A raw scratchiness crept into my throat at this point, which begged for the relief of a cough or two, which I stifled so as not to disturb his even breathing. I told myself to get up and go home, but I stayed, and suddenly the absurdity of the situation hit me.

He will always feel justified and comfortable in asking for what he needs, and he's accustomed to having them met. I rarely feel that way, and (shocker!) I rarely have my needs met. The very thing I was resenting so much in him that moment is the very thing I need to be doing myself. I have actually been dating a man who is a good model of self-care. And he's attracted me to him, a good model of how to care really well for others.

I'm learning that I can be the loving, need-meeter person I am, but I also have to be comfortable (and feel justified in) stating my needs, and expect that my needs are taken seriously and honored where possible. I'm also getting real clear that the man I end up with does need to take good care of himself, but he also needs to be curious about those needs in me that he can meet that make me happy or make me feel loved and supported. I must take better care of me not just because it'll make me a less resentful, more fulfilled partner, but also because I have nieces who look up to me and, Universe willing, a child one day who will learn from me, and I don't want them to grow up with the message that women are supposed to care for others needs first, and that men's needs are more important to meet than anyone's else.

I'm not sure I can learn to self-care better with any man around. I've already laid the foundation of my relationship with man number one with my sacrificed needs and willingness to try to meet his. The pattern's been set, and I don't know how to break it without breaking all of it. But I guess I don't need to know how, I just need to say "yes" to the change. "Yes" to speaking up when my needs aren't being met, "yes" to being clear about what my needs are. "Yes" to more sleep (well, not tonight, but soon...). "Yes" to me. The how will become clear.

On a hike with the new guy today I told him that I needed to get clear on what it is I want and what I'm doing with this other guy, but that I'd really appreciate his friendship right now. It wasn't so hard, stating what I need. It was a little hard to let our attraction hang in the space between us with no outlet, and we struggled with the weight of it for a while. But by the time we parted ways, we resolved to offer our friendship to another, and for now, I'm not going to let this blip of attraction to another man mean the ruin of my relationship with the man I'm seeing. It's a chance to re-assess and see anew.

As I wrap this up, If I Were A Boy by Beyonce is playing on Pandora. How comically apt:

If I were a boy even just for a day
I'd roll out of bed in the morning
And throw on what I wanted
And go drink beer with the guys

And chase after girls
I'd kick it with who I wanted
And I'd never get confronted for it
'Cause they stick up for me

If I were a boy
I think I could understand
How it feels to love a girl
I swear I'd be a better man

I'd listen to her
'Cause I know how it hurts
When you lose the one you wanted
'Cause he's taking you for granted
And everything you had got destroyed

If I were a boy
I would turn off my phone
Tell everyone it's broken
So they'd think that I was sleeping alone

I'd put myself first
And make the rules as I go
'Cause I know that she'd be faithful
Waiting for me to come home, to come home

If I were a boy
I think I could understand
How it feels to love a girl
I swear I'd be a better man

I'd listen to her
'Cause I know how it hurts
When you lose the one you wanted
'Cause he's taking you for granted
And everything you had got destroyed

It's a little too late for you to come back
Say it's just a mistake
Think I'd forgive you like that
If you thought I would wait for you
You thought wrong

But you're just a boy
You don't understand
And you don't understand, oh
How it feels to love a girl
Someday you wish you were a better man

You don't listen to her
You don't care how it hurts
Until you lose the one you wanted
'Cause you're taking her for granted
And everything you had got destroyed
But you're just a boy

Release

I (want to) free what has been in my clutches so that it can evolve into its greater yet to be.
I (want to) release to liberate my mind from relentless repetitiveness.
I (want to) release to cultivate the soil for right action.

I want to be willing to drop the "want to's." What will it take for me to drop the "want to's"? When I read these lines Sunday, these sparkly, little gems, wedged into the affirmation at church, I longed for them to be true of me the way I long to be in love. As though it'll never happen.

This morning he called. Told me he's thinking of going to San Diego for Christmas with his father. Then asks me what my plans are, saying, "You probably spend the whole day with family, huh?"Uh-huh. Sure do. He arrived at work and we hung up. Later, making my bed, I thought, Wait a minute. Was he feeling me out to see if I would be able to come with him? He didn't outright ask me, but the conversational proximity of the San Diego trip and my family holiday plans made it seem plausible. Confusing, given our rather up-in-the-air status at the moment, but still plausible.

Later, chatting with my sister in law on-line, I told her that he might have invited me to Christmas with his dad. She said that was great and we'd work our holiday plans around it. It is great, I remember thinking. Tonight, I asked him if he was asking about my plans because he was thinking of inviting me or because he was just curious. The pause was long enough to know he hadn't thought of including me at all. I felt like an idiot. For hoping. For wanting it to be a sign. For actually having asked my family if it was possible to move our holiday plans around to accommodate a trip he'd never even thought to invite me on. For having the thought that I would get to visit my friends who just moved to San Diego while he got in some one on one time with his Dad. Granted, it was his vague communication style that left it open for interpretation, but I chose hoping against the odds, hoping against evidence even that we are so not there yet.

I cling. I fear he'll all go away, because all the other men I have loved, or tried to, always have. So, I try to be the best they've ever had. And usually, I am. Usually they tell me I am. It's always them, unavailable. And here I am again, really liking a man with one foot in the door. The whole rest of him may be in the room: sweet, sincere, smart, goofy, attractive, clearly into me, clearly so much more than I would have expected to find in a man. Mostly. But. He's got one foot in the door, not letting it close, an escape route, an excuse out. For whatever reason. It's a good reason, I can't deny him that. But, if I continue to see him, as he has said he wants, even if we slow it way down, I'll still be waiting for him to stop thinking of me with a "but" somewhere in there.

It doesn't matter that his best friend told me he's said great things about me.

It doesn't matter that he told the woman who introduced us that I was the kindest, most compasisonate woman he's ever met.

It doesn't matter that one night after we talked about books and writing for a good long while, he texted me, "I like that you're a lit-critter."

It doesn't matter that he made a list of what he wanted in a woman and I am who he described.

It doesn't matter that I see the way he looks at me from time to time, eyes dancing and pulling the corners of his mouth upward just a bit, as though he's just amazed.

It doesn't matter that somehow I know we're supposed to be together. 

Because the timings off.

I'm ready; he's not ready yet. Me sticking around won't change that.

Rev D this Sunday said we don't release because we don't trust that our deepest heart's desires will be fulfilled. Truthfully, she said we don't release because we don't trust that there's a Divine Order. And really, I guess that's true enough. I do believe that I'll have my needs fulfilled. But my wants? My deepest desires? I want to believe, but I doubt. If there's one Bible passage I can relate to it's in Mark 9, when a father brings a sick boy to Jesus and says:

 "... if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us."

" 'If you can'?" said Jesus. "Everything is possible for him who believes."

 Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"

I so need to overcome my unbelief.


If I release him now, and tell him, "When you know what you want, and you're ready; give me a call. If I'm single and still interested, we can give this another shot," I fear he won't ever call. If I hold on to him, I fear I'll smother this new sprout of a relationship with my insecurities.

I have a hunch that someone less prone to dramatics and romanticism and wishful thinking would look at my options and call it a no-brainer. "Tell him 'goodbye'," they'd say, "Light a fire under his ass by taking the goods away." But honestly, the fear of not hearing from him again, the fear that can only be assuaged by more trust in the Universe than I currently have, feels much scarier and less reliable than getting as much of him as I can for as long as I can because in the end, I have always ended up alone.

The only question now worth asking, and answering, is "Am I willing to trust that if not this wonderful man, then someone better?"