This time, it's a girl.
In my NJ workplace, there's a girl--a woman--who I've mentioned before. She's a full-figured director of one of our programs that I've had the occasion to visit on work-related missions, and she's always been so flirtatious and effervescent with me that I love her company. She has freckles spinkled across her nose like flecks of cinnamon across the skin of a latte. She growing out her hair in locks. And she has polished apples for cheeks, which always seem in full blush because she always seems to be smiling.
Now, before anyone pitches in to tell me to go for it, let me just put out the disclaimer. I'm not single and alone fer nuthin'. I'm describing this crush so I can get it out of my system. Because this dear cherub of a woman has another side, and I've seen it too. With the same energy she gives her joy, she clouds over and expresses her displeasure temptestuously. This is the downside of passion. The fear I wrestle with. The passion in a woman ignites my own, but the fiery anger that comes with it incinerates me.
The holiday season is upon us and I invited myself to MFTD's parents for turkey (it was originally scheduled to be Prime Rib for some strange reason, but he informed me that his brothers, of which he is the oldest, revolted). Yes, I invited myself because last week I left a successful series of sessions and decided to follow some advice I gave, and went proactive on my holiday plans. Why B Lonely? Because I knew I had a standing invitation, as I believe I may also do with Childhood Bud, and Childhood Bud II, and their mom down in Atlanta. (Right? :-) ).
And everyone's so very wonderful for having these doors open to me. It's completely to their credit and the benefit will go straight to their souls. Charity and love. Nothing finer.
As for me? It's just kind of miserable and sad. Watching other people's families. Knowing that my own shortcomings may just affix me into this position forever. Watching holidays slide by with alarmingly accelerating frequency. Being 44 for the first time in my life and no longer being able to believe that I'm not really middle-aged, and that "age is just a number". Age might be, but my time on Earth is not. When I now say, "In my day, we never thought we'd live to see a Black president of the United States"--it's actually true. Along with the fact that there are touchscreen computers the size of your palm in existence. Back in "my day" the only computers that existed where the size of city blocks and there were maybe 8 in all the world. Until there wasn't.
And too, I'm feeling a little heavy-hearted about the job opportunity of yesterday not turning out to be a good move. The vaccuum of energy I had for this chance leaves an echoing, hollow pit. It's not a real good time to be me, at the moment. But that's only "at the moment."
This too shall pass.
Edit: Upon the readback, I discovered something odd. Why is it that I love the honesty and absence of facade in my clients, yet fear the same thing when it comes to a lover? Why can't I appreciate the same passion in My Her as I do in my clients and my friends?
You know--maybe I can. because if they love me, they'll love me. It won't matter how mad they get at me. It won't matter. As long as they respect me and love me, they won't say horrible things at me. And if they do, well then, that's my limit. It's a dealbreaker. But the anger--I can deal with it, can't I? Don't I?
Yes I do.
So why wouldn't I do it in my personal life, for love?