in other words

It takes me time to figure out how I feel. Most people can name that tune in three notes, however even with full Nelson Riddle orchestration and three part harmonies, I have no idea how I feel about most things. I need to let things sift, to swirl a thing around my gelatinous brain and let the silt drift slowly to the bottom and see what floats. Then I call someone and see if I guessed correctly.

(name withheld to protect something or other)… has sent you a message on Facebook: “i would love to sleep with you. it would satisfy a fetish that i have had for at least 15 years. i am d&d free what do you think/ no one knows /think about it…..its just a sport. i figure you will either say no or be cool enough to romp for a day and call it quits…

Not that long ago I’d’ve said yes, I didn’t know no. And it would’ve been fun — I’d fantasized too — there were rumors of piercings I was aching to know. I would’ve if I could’ve but I never got the chance. That was then, now I want a slice of pie at the end of the meal. I want to be walked to the door. To hold hands. I want to be danced across the floor, not wedged between then & now, between first wife and next wife.

Granted it’s a short list and sometimes it was simply that the opportunity never presented itself, but I’ve never regretted not sleeping with someone. I used sex recreationally, much in the way Joan Rivers uses plastic surgery–to make me look like someone else. My life aspirations began and ended with being an Unforgettable Piece of Ass. I had the proverbial notched bedpost.  When no one wanted me, I was no one, I was invisible. The more men I got, the more me there was. It was mergers and acquisitions. I fancied myself a lover, but I was really only a conquestador.

Sergio’s joke:
What does the Jodi say when you tell her you love her?
“Dude! Get the hell off me now. You’re done. Time for you to go home.”

These days, when I open my legs, my heart opens too and I get all scared. I want that tender hearted space so much I’m afraid to want it at all. But I do. I want the heart, the music and the melody. I want to be Sam Cooked until I’m tender. Fill my heart with song, fly me to the moon, I wanna be someone’s Harvest Moongirl, to be Frank and Dino’d till I die. Nat King me baby. You can even Harry Connick me if you do it right.

L. said: “You’re the perfect mistress, you know the rules”. The rule say don’t need, don’t want, don’t ask, and keep the secret. I was the secret all my life.

I figured out how I feel. I’m not flattered that someone wants to bang me, but not date me. I’m not flattered that someone offered to bang me once and walk away. There’s a Creep flag flying and I am not saluting. It took me all day, but I recognize that Creep flag and the flagpole he’s trying to run it up. Not saluting. Not today, baby, not today.