It seems that I’ve been chasing angels
for what seems the entire of my life.
Amber, Run Heaven
See also “angel came down from heaven yesterday, (s) he stayed just long enough to rescue me”.
Jimi Hendrix
Hot Neighbor brought pie and wine the first time he came over.
We were both kinda awkward, didn’t know each other very well.
My how things have changed. We now eat cheesecake.
We do however, still call sex ‘pie’.
I re-posted The Dress a few weeks ago, and contained within is “An Ode to Hot Neighbor” wherein I hadn’t met him yet, but he looked at me like I was a goddess even in my sweatiest sweats. He still does that. He came over last Saturday right after the Hulk apartment incident. I opened the door, crying and he lunged forward and caught me in the best hug, he then drove me and my Sunshine to work.
I looked at her that night and said “I am not doing right by him, making him listen to me cry over other boys when he is right here and treats me like gold.”
“He doesn’t seem to mind” she said. And for a second I believed her.
He was here through the Giant recovery, just holding me and listening. Giving me pep talks and much needed perspective.
I’ve been standing in the forest screaming at the trees again.
I fucked up.
Is no bad. I make fix now.
I wrote an article yesterday about all this wonderful unconditional love I get from my girls, and I do. We all deserve a love like we have for each other, as messy and strange as it is and we are.
But, um wait. I have boys in my life like that too. Men actually, good ones.
Hot Neighbor. The one I call Home. And a new one, the Blue-collar to my Ballerina.
Blue-collar messaged me shortly after I put up the aforementioned article.
Him: I just wanted you to know I love your newest writing….and I know you’re still having some good and bad moments….but I am enjoying seeing you with that fire in you more….very proud and happy for you Flash….
Me: It’s you too. You treat me like gold.
Him: Love you’re more precious than any gold.
Me: As are you darling
Him: Thanks sugarpants
He calls me Flash. He is the factory worker to my stripper and together we make the premise for Flashdance. I could spend the rest of the article explaining the subtle private language we have begun to develop, but it’s ours. He makes me smile and giggle and sigh on the regular. Yesh, yesh he does.
He is also making an 11 hour pilgrimage to buy me tacos in Chicago whilst I have a two hour layover. That is the stuff memes and dreams are made of.
The one I call Home maintains vigil. Popping in every now and again when my Facebook statuses or profile pics get too morose. He keeps up with this blog. (Hi honey). He was with me when the false soldier/bouncer debacle happened, offering advice and keeping me from beating myself up too badly. I came to peace with that horrid situation in lightning speed thanks to him. Actually the article I wrote about him called Sexual Healing was the catalyst that launched me out of that relationship. Thank you honey.
And what of Hot Neighbor?
He was here last night for proverbial pie. We broke in my new We-Vibe.
I had a mini epiphany while we were talking and smoking in the afterglow.
“I can sex friend like a champion” yes, I meant to put the R in there. “But if I get an inkling of ‘relationship potential’ I turn into a retard.” (The way Zach Galifianakis says it in the Hangover)
I do, I become less of myself, I start pulling back and trying to be what my idea of what they want, and I am normally wrong, because um…THEY PICKED ME IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE. Old conditioning makes me feel like they want a watered down version of me, but I don’t like me watered down, neither should any man I want around. Its science.
I slipped up and cited the Giant again, after I promised myself I wouldn’t.
I apologized immediately to Hot Neighbor. Said I felt like I misused him and took advantage.
His response? “Sarah, you treat me like a prince.” And here I was thinking I was being douche aka myself, my messy crying self.
Geographically speaking it is impossible for me to always look cute when he is around. We live across the alley from each other, he does see me in my sweaty sweats, morning hair, racoon eyes from the night before. He has held me while I cry and shake and get boogers on his shirt and he just keeps coming back, checking in and serenading me.
Also geographically speaking it is impossible for me to be around the other two, but if they were here I think we would make fine sex friends.
So basically I have 3 men in my life who actually love me as is. Why was I sad again?
I am smiling as I eat this piece of humble pie, washing it down with good coffee and good karma.
