Can You Hear Me?

I’m discovering that people really don’t listen anymore. They don’t really hear what you’re saying, only what they think you’re saying, or even what they want you to say, but they’re not listening.  We’ve become such a selfish society, including myself, where everything we want and do is to satisfy ourselves and our desires.  That’s all good and well, but I’ve learned something over the years – true happiness isn’t wrapped up in what we can do and achieve for ourselves.  It’s often found in what we can do and give to another. Can you hear me?

I’ve achieved a lot of great things in this life.  I’ve accomplished many great things, but my most proud achievements aren’t in the awards, the degrees, the possessions, or in anything or anyone I possess.  My greatest achievements have been those moments of love and inspiration that I’ve been able to pour into someone else.   It’s in love – love given, love received.  It’s in real love; not sex, not affection, not adoration, and not praise, but love.  Can you hear me?

God said that there is no greater love than a man lay down his life for his friends.  That love is patient, kind, etc.  I look around at this crazy, selfish world and I weep because of what has become of love.  I am often naïve to the desires of this world, and I’ll get into some examples of that in a moment, but I’m not stupid.  It’s not that I’m simple; it’s that I put so much of my heart in the hope of what I want to see and receive from the world – that I take chance, after chance, after chance… and keep meeting and experiencing the ugly side of love, the empty selfish side of desire, and the disappointing side of hope.  Can you hear me?

I’ve been honest with everyone I’ve spoken or meet.  I’ve recently had two encounters that frustrate me to no end.  I’m single and I’m lonely.  I have all this love inside and no one to share it. I have friends who love me, but I am missing that one friend that I can share everything inside me.  I had that once, and it was beautiful, and I was so happy despite any trouble we had to face.  With him, I could face anything.  I wanted to give him the world, but he didn’t want the same. He wasn’t in the same place as me. Love frightened him, so he ran, and left this gaping hole inside.  He was my bright spot, my warm sun in a cold, dim world.  He seared me, burned me, and left a everlasting scar, but he also showed me that the kind of love I’ve been hoping for my whole life is still out there, that it does still exist.  I thought it died with James on that Somalian battlefield, but it didn’t.  I again thought it died in a Puerto Rican smile, but I hold onto the hope that it’s out there, somewhere for me.

But, hanging onto this hope in this buffet world of instant gratification and self-indulgence is very hard.  I’m a single mermaid in a sea of sharks.  I’m trying to be open to meet someone, to make myself available to find another sun, another bright spot, a best friend, a soul mate.  I don’t need to be saved, I’m not desperate, and I don’t suffer from low self-esteem where I need the attention from predators in order to feel beautiful, sexy, or accomplished.  But, I am lonely and I’m a natural flirt.  That seems to send the wrong signal to these sharks. 

I met a man online recently and was very open and honest about what I hoped to find. He agreed and told me he was looking for the same thing.  So, I gave him my number, believing that I might have found someone who could swim in deep waters.  But, it wasn’t long before the messages turned to sexual innuendo and offers to cuddle.  I cried, probably for an hour, angry at myself for being so stupid and naïve to believe he meant what he said.  When I didn’t respond to his advances, he got defensive and basically told me that if I’m not opened to cuddling that I should enjoy being single.  I LOVE cuddling, with MY man, not a man that hops from woman to woman, to woman, to woman.  Yet, this sentiment seems to be the status quo.  Can you hear me?

I want all those wild, crazy, sexy, kinky, funny, adventurous experiences with a man – one man, My man. It seems men are too afraid these days to put their hearts out there on the line for a woman.  I understand, I see the types of women out there.  But, that’s not me. I want to share my whole heart, my whole soul, my whole being with someone who wants to share the same with me. If it makes me an odd duck.. quack! quack!  And If I end up being a lonely spinster… I’ll get a fucking cat.  Can you hear me?

I’m a mermaid and I swim in deep waters, down where there is no light to sparkle off your hooks. I have to be met where I’m at if a man wants to capture my heart.  If he can hook my heart, my body will follow. My heart is the center of my being; it’s what holds my Siren’s song.  Wound me by trying to grab me or my fins, and you’ll only get a Banshee’s wail, and I’ll disappear into the depths you can’t swim. Can you hear me?

Till next time,

T.L. Gray 

Beautiful Classic

Talking with a dear friend this morning, really about nothing significant, I somehow stumbled onto something that’s really been rolling around in my heart for a while. I just haven’t been able to put words to it yet, well… not until right now.

Those of you who read this blog on a regular basis (which I appreciate – and thanks again for the Leibster Nomination) know that I’m on an ever-changing emotional journey that has taken me to some really high points and very dark low points.  Sometimes those emotions can change in a heartbeat, because I’m now at a point where they’re all clashing together.  Old things are falling away, new things are showing up, and somewhere between we find the chaos that is my life.

Well, this conversation I mentioned above was a metaphor for the function and maintenance of a woman’s vagina… (yes, I have very interesting conversations, but that’s not the story I want to talk about at this particular moment) which turned to the topic of finding a good Mechanic.  (I can see some of you right now skimming down a few paragraphs to get back to this subject of a woman’s vagina… *shakes my head*… but stay with me here.)  The Mechanic in this metaphor, of course, is a good man - a man that fulfills not only a woman’s sexual needs, but takes care of her, takes pride in her, loves to show her off, loves to pamper her, loves to take her everywhere (even sometimes finding excuses to go just so they can be together), loves to take her for a spin and get her motor humming.  I could really go on and on and on, but I think you get the picture.  

Unfortunately, I’m finding there’s a huge shortage on good Mechanics, ones who don’t really appreciate the beauty and complexity of a good, well-made engine and the sleek style of a classic body.  They’re into simplicity, easy, fast, economical, compact, and often the latest model that just rolled onto the showcase floor.  They drool in their excitement and their fingers itch to press those start buttons and listen to her young engine come to life.  But, a good mechanic knows that there are lot a bugs that have to be worked out of a new engine… it’s not been tested… it’s neither weathered the storms nor found its stride.  It most often doesn’t even yet have a purpose… driven recklessly by some young inexperienced yelp out for a thrill… often crashing her, damaging her, or completely destroying her.  They don’t understand – the simplicity requires no imagination and effort, which leads to a lack of appreciation.  They get bored and ready to move on because the thrill has run out.  So, they go from model to model… never being satisfied, because they’re not being fully stimulated.

But the beautiful classic… ah… the sound of her engine is strong.  Her body may not be new, have a few patches here and there, but it’s solid, it’s sleek, and it’s still beautiful as hell.  She’s got moves.  She’s got curves.  There’s a confidence in a classic… knowing she’s been through it already and made it… she can do it again.  A good mechanic knows that a beautiful classic, if well-maintenance on a regular basis, won’t need much more than a regular tune-up and a steady coat of wax, because she’s already got a purpose and her kinks had been ironed out years before.  She’s got style and grace and a beauty that never fades.  She’s complicated, but something a good Mechanic appreciates, adores, loves and respects.  He knows her intimately… all her parts and how they work together.

So, this classic beauty would love to find a good, smart, wise Mechanic.  Let the boys have the little plastic hotrods… and let the real men dare to try and bridle the pure power of a classic. It’ll be the ride of their lives.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray