Some Nights

I should have called the last one the Drawing of the Three. But it wasn’t good enough.

It was what it was meant to be, a prelude.

There was some fussing on the Facebook page about it. Chill Winston.

And I already made my decision. Didn’t have to draw anything, not straws or graphs. I might ask my girl to pull some tarot cards for me, but I am not there yet.

I don’t remember much about English class but I am sure there is a term for such things, chapters with no other purpose than to close out one sub story and introduce a new character or theme. If there isn’t, doesn’t matter, I did the thing. And as I hit publish a solitary crow did a very close fly by on the other side of my window. Uh oh.

Coulda smashed in to the window, that woulda been worse.

Ever the optimist. Maybe I just didn’t see the second. (that’s not how this works)

I have no idea how any of this works. My WordPress updated in my absence and navigating it is vexing. There are blocks now where a blank document should be. I just want to write.

If this is a test of my willpower I’ll save everyone the suspense.
No is not a word that comes easily off my tongue.
I’m failing and could use a little divine intervention. 
Please please please

This was my status the other night. My boss and my Bayne checked on me.

Everyone thought it was about booze.

It wasn’t. My other kryptonite. Boys.

Someone asked me if they could touch my butt and I had a hard time saying no. He wasn’t in the room thankfully, just in my phone. He only lives there.

In this latest installment of misheard lyrics I found some strength. This song is on heavy rotation in the soundtrack of my life. Radio, mall, Brian’s jeep, at work and because I just put it on YouTube so I could quote it.

Some Nights. Fun

That’s alright, I found a martyr in my bed tonight, stops my bones from wandering away.

That’s not what it says

It’s wondering who I am

S’okay. I will keep it the way I heard it. I am the martyr in my own bed and my bones shall not wander, even if my mind wonders. And I know exactly who I am, so that’s a good thing

See also…

And some nights, I’m scared you’ll forget me again
Some nights, I always win (I always win)
But I still wake up, I still see your ghost.

I do see his ghost, often, walking down the street at night, picturing him under me when I so much as take an extended blink. The time I said he was the worst idea I ever had and he wouldn’t let go until I took it back. I was on top of him then too. Climb on the beast and ride.

He is a beast of a man. Good thing I am a lion tamer and the queen of everything.

I kept that moniker even though I had to give up being a pistachio. I had to. I am so sorry sexy peeants.

I had a thought last week, I was in the kitchen cooking and tearing up because I was missing him, but this was a good thought. So good in fact that I couldn’t help but laugh and grin a stupid, cheek hurting grin. It lasted a few days. I still have the occasional doubt, who wouldn’t, but this thought is whatever the light deer was to Harry Potter, specto patronus. Fuck that took me a long minute, I actually felt my brain cramping. This thought is keeping my self-doubt from sucking all the happiness out of me.

To explain this thought I must return to my 24^th year upon the planet. I had an impossible crush on an impossible man. Such a pain in my ass, and 21 years ago I was nothing like I am now, well maybe a bit, but my self esteem was rock bottom, my superstitions were high and this crush was HUGE. All consuming, there wasn’t much of me to be consumed at that point, but still.

And here, I sadly admit that I stalked the fucker. Not one of my prouder moments.

You must remember 21 years ago we didn’t have the technology that we do today wherein I know what so and so had for dinner and my phone pings when my friends are nearby. I knew where he would be on certain nights and I went to there.

Some nights, we’d go home together and some we didn’t.

Some nights I called it a draw.

This went on for the better part of a year.

I would try to stop and start seeing someone else, and he’d waltz back into my life and that would be that. I would drop my treat of the week and make the quick fall back into limbo with him.

I had never had a not boyfriend before. This was also way back before I began living in the land of friends with benefits and other such arrangements.

And it felt like limbo. Sometimes it was heaven and sometimes it was hell, and a whole metric fuck ton of limbo.

I tried to change to fit him. Not a fun thing to admit either. I wore more black, became a stripper, went to bars I didn’t particularly care for. Back in the day I was constantly morphing to suit whoever I was around/dating. I didn’t know myself one little bit. I kept the stripping and the witchy wardrobe, still a witch.

The point of the story is. After 10 months of martyrdom and metamorphosis. We ended up together, proper. He was my first marriage proposal. And for a long while, we had a really good relationship.

Lion taming takes patience, strength and fortitude. I am perseverance personified.

You’re the king and I’m your lionheart.

Of Monsters and Men