Boldly going

This morning, while thinking about the potentially stupid way I may have acted last night, I decided to do one more potentially stupid thing.

 

I read that sentence to my breakfast partner, and he says that stupid is not a good descriptor.  Reckless, and serendipitous (there is a wonderful word in Spanish that I can’t even begin to pronounce that this is the best translation for, I am told), but not stupid.

 

Okay, so after drinking more than I should have, and putting faith in someone I should not have, I get this gift. 

 

Guiermo sits next to me, reading over my shoulder periodically as he types away on his laptop and watches the soccer game.  He is from Brazil. And only in Monterey last night and today for a few hours before heading off to LA.  I vaguely remember giving him my email, and potentially a phone number, though if it is mine I cannot say. (He is looking at the slip of paper.  Yep, mine. The fact that he had it in his wallet is shocking and makes me smile at the same time).  I completely remember the kiss (oh, I just made him blush, which got another kiss, so not so bad).

The reckless, serendipitous, potentially stupid part is that I did not go home with him last night, and instead hunted him down this morning where he was staying and brought him donuts. (He laughs). This could have backfired in a ton of different ways.  It didn’t.

 

This is new.  When I was writing yesterday about moving into the unknown without fear, this was not what I expected.  I was totally thinking about someone else, and trying to fit an open friendship into a space where none exists.  Sitting next to Gui, (a man I have now known for about 2.5 hours), as he checks his email, and drinks an Americano (he thinks this is a funny name for coffee with milk), is already more intimate and vulnerable than I have been in years.  He is 15 years younger than me, has beautiful green eyes, and when we kiss good bye after breakfast (he just asked if it will really be only a kiss?), we will more than likely never see each other again.  The conversation has been about love, and adventure, and being present.  It has been about risk, and about the benefits of actually being open to anything, in a way that is not words, and not selfish.  Donuts, it seems, is a very open gesture.  And the same thing that made talking to him last night amazing, is what makes me miss him already.

 

He makes me promise that I won’t forget what today feels like. That he knows that I know this, but that somewhere along the way I pushed it aside.  This part that is life, all flaws and unknown.  A kindred spirit. 

 

No rocks anywhere.

 

It is time for him to go.  I am excited for what the rest of my reckless day may bring.

Becoming Captain Kirk

I have some amazing friends in my life.  I cannot deny how grateful I am for them, daily, for love and support.  They constantly challenge my beliefs about myself, and, when necessary, make me think about it when words won’t come.  At least not words that make any sense while I am saying them for sure.  I am a pretty articulate woman, so when those times happen (and they are not explained away by the half a bottle of wine sitting on the counter), I have to go back and figure out why I could not explain what I really meant.  Did I actually mean it at all?

This happened the other night while talking to a friend. Granted, I had been drinking wine earlier in the evening, but I drove myself home, and hadn’t had any more.  So when he and I were talking, and the topic of relationships came up, of course, vulnerability was part of the conversation.

Vulnerable is one of those things we all have to be, while also being strong and in control.  It is the process of trusting someone else to not fuck you over if you share a part of yourself.  

So the conversation went something like this:  

“What keeps you from being vulnerable?”

“Fear.”

“Fear of what?”

 “The unknown.”

 (Yeah, he and I probably need to get past some of our one-word responses.  It is a process.  We will work on it.)

This is what had me inarticulate. 

Sure, we all have fears.  I am not a really big fan of snakes, or being in really really enclosed spaces (that might have snakes).  But the unknown?  I am not so sure.

So I thought about it.  Like, a lot.  And what came out of it (besides this blog) is that no, I am not fearful of the unknown.  I am completely and totally afraid of the known.  Not all the known.  Just the painful known.  Of the known, happening again. 

Imagine this scenario (because we are talking about vulnerability in relationships, right?).  You are on a date.  Maybe you have been on a few already, and getting to know this person is going well enough.  And then something is said.  Maybe it is something about a childhood trauma.  Maybe it is something about the way a former relationship ended.  Maybe it is a comment about weight or exercise, or parenting.  Maybe it is about alcohol. Or drugs.

 Whatever it is, all of a sudden, in my head, I know everything about this.  I have done all this.  Don’t like museums?  Yeah, one of my exes didn’t either.  Don’t have the patience for children being sick?  Yep, a guy I dated before didn’t either.  Been in rehab, had a “fat” wife, won’t get on an airplane, passed out at a cousin’s wedding, can’t read a novel, allergic to chocolate, hate cats?

I get lost in all this noise.  I hear all the things I already know spinning in my head.  I write the story before you tell it.  Have the questions and the solutions to any problem you have, and you don’t even need to ask me about it.  I got this.  I know what is going to happen next.  I have already been there.  In the cases of things I have no desire to repeat, the big red flag I threw for you without you even knowing it has just made me shut down.  Vulnerable? Oh hell no.  That giant pile of rocks you see in front of you?  Yeah, that is the scrap left over from the monstrous wall I just built.  You are not getting in, because I know how this ends.

So this makes the unknown my friend, right?  What is so scary about having something brand new? 

The known, for some, is a comfortable place to be.  It feels warm, and homey. Settle in right now, and don’t worry about the shit in the corner.  I don’t like that place (read some of my other blog posts if you need specifics).  The place most people feel comfortable, for me is lonely.  I know it too well.  I have lived in it too long.  It is not an old pair of jeans that fit all the curves, that you love.  It is pair of shoes with holes that keep getting pebbles.  I can throw the pebbles away, but the pain from having to do it over and over is old. I don’t want those blisters anymore.  I think I may have already run out of Band-Aids.

So, back to the gratitude I feel for friends.   They are showing me a new way.  Challenging me to think about it in a way I haven’t before.  The unknown.  It is actually a good place to be.  I am not fearful of that.  Creating a new world, one small blog post at a time.