The Dance

I've never been in love.  I'm almost positive about that.  I may have romantically loved another person, maybe.  I still don't understand this love thing.  My only understanding of this is that I know I care for my dog more than anything.  Maybe I love my dog.  She loves me unconditionally.  No matter how I feel, she is happy with me, she is sad with me, she is content or worries with me.  She is my best friend, but when I talk and ask her questions on life, she can only listen, intently as she can, but never imparts any of her wisdom.  I know she has it, but she cannot speak.  Her eyes tell me, her paws pat at my knees.

I was watching couples together the other night out at the beach on a literal dance floor.  I saw lust.  I saw joy.  I saw emotion.  It is hard to hide emotions when you dance, especially if you really let go and open up.  I watched this one couple on the floor dancing throughout the night.  They were comfortable.  They were...in love?  When they passed by me, I asked the glowing woman if they were married to each other, or if they had just started dating.  She told me that it was their 20th Wedding Anniversary.  Beautiful.  Love.  Love must be the comfort one feels with another.  It must be the feeling of confidence, knowing you are with your best companion.  It must be joy.  It must be fulfilling.  Is love happiness?  I think it may sometimes be pleasure or joy, and happiness is not constant, so what is love?  Is it the ability to stick around when the tough is tough and the simple is easy?

It takes work to be a partner or companion to another.  I just don't believe it should take too much work.  If it takes too much effort and a person has to try too hard, it's not a good relationship.  That's not love, right?  That is a fight.  That might be co-dependency.  Many people live on co-dependency.  I don't need anything but the necessities.  I need air, water, food, and some sort of shelter.  I do not need a man.  I desire many things, including a companion, but I won't settle for less than a great friend...not again.

Hormones and brain chemistry try to confuse us into thinking we are in love.  I've read that eating chocolate releases the same chemicals in our brain that are released when we feel like we are in love.  In either of these instances, we are not in love.  We may love chocolate, or the idea of doing something pleasureful, but love is not what is happening.  Our bodies are telling us that we need to procreate and propagate our species.  That is just nature.  In this time of the world, we have somewhat surpassed just the natural instincts of our species.  We have evolved into more of a pack type species than we were before.  We need each other for different reasons.  We feel we need long-term partners.  It is a mixture of instinct and learned behavior.  It is different than the time before when we (or the species we evolved from--the Australopithecus) slept in trees, procreated, used violent behavior to communicate with the opposite sex, and just lived by our basic natural instincts.  Do not misunderstand me, some humans are still in that phase.

As our species' life-span has grown longer, the partnerships we have or desire to have has changed.  Our society has changed.  The basic desire to be loved, accepted, wanted is still there, yet the motivation to actually pursue it has evolved.  Lots of people are waiting  for the perfect mate, or select the first one to come along.  We might be missing the point.  Are we looking for perfection?  We have to be able to understand what perfection really is.  That definition is up to the individual.  It is no longer the dictionary, literal term.  There is no perfect human.  We all have flaws, secrets, baggage, traumas, and aftershocks of relationships gone bad. 

I had a list once of my perfect man.  I found one that fit this list.  I should have been more specific and put the definitely-do-not-wants on this wish list of mine.  It almost killed me.  It made me realize more of what I really wanted.  I am pickier now.  I can be.  I need no one to take care of me.  I need no one to make me happy.  If I cannot find happiness within myself, how can some other person make me happy?  Enjoyment comes from finding that person you can share your excitement or happy moments with, and one who will be there when the joy is not as well.  Maybe one day I will fall in love, whatever that may be.  Maybe I won't.  If I love who I am, that is good enough.  I'm complex, but extremely simple. 

Some of the answers I seek when I meet someone are from questions like these:
Will you be caring, honest, kind, compassionate, passionate?  Will you dance with me?  Will you kiss me in the rain?  Will you be considerate to me and the people around us?  Will you do your best to be conscientious?  Do you listen and remember?  Do you respond in kind?  Do you get me to laugh?  Do you want me or need me? 

I have no desire to be needed.  My desire is to have someone want to be with me.  If he doesn't, that's okay.  It's not worth the fight.  I know I am worth the risk.  The risk I speak of is heartbreak and reality; what happens in life.  Everyone leaves.  I have said it before.  They may leave by choice or they may leave by death.  Everyone leaves eventually.  We must not worry about the leaving part.  We must enjoy the now. 

Some day, if I live long enough to be old, I wish for someone to sit with me on the porch, maybe in silence, maybe to listen to my random thoughts.  If dementia hits us, I want to be glad to re-meet that same man on the porch that knows every little thing about me (or did at one point) and still wants to be by my side.  I desire a partner, a best friend.  I know all desires are not met.  Just call me an idealistic realist.  As for now, I'll just dance.

My 21st Birthday

One of my favorite actors when I was in high school was John Corbett (the radio DJ from the TV show Northern Exposure, later to be the groom in My Big Fat Greek Wedding).  I came back to Seattle to visit a friend and some family for my 21st birthday.  I knew Mr. Corbett had opened a club downtown Seattle and I had decided to go on my birthday with a friend of mine (He shall not be named. You know who you are.)  The club was The Fenix Underground.  I didn't like alcohol and didn't drink, but I had heard the he was in his club quite often.  So, I really wanted to go on the day of my birthday. 

I'm not a celebrity chaser and I have only asked for one autograph in my entire life. It was from the Vice President of the United States of America.  So, my purpose was just to listen to music in a club and hopefully see John Corbett.  Easy enough, right?

There was a long line at the door, so when my friend and I get to the bouncer, we were ready to get out of the cold rain.  My friend (who turned 21 six days before me) gave the bouncer his ID, pays for himself, then disappears into the club...not knowing what was about to happen. 

So I smile and hand the bouncer my ID...here is where I digress (I do that a lot)...I got my drivers license when I was 17, so it hadn't expired yet.  AND since I got my drivers license at 17 AND at age 17 I looked at most 12 (for instance, on my 16th birthday, I was automatically charged the 11 year old and younger rate for my movie ticket).  So the ID looked suspicious to the bouncer.  The bouncer stares me down, hands back the ID and says, "Yeah, I don't think so."  I was confused. "Why? Today is my 21st birthday!?" I proclaim.  He told it was a fake ID and there was no possible way I was 21.  Arrrggghh! Okay, I could handle it, but the line was backing up. I told him my friend just went in and he is only 6 days older.  The bouncer laughed.  I argued, politely of course, that in no way could the ID be a fake.  "Why on earth would I say TODAY was my 21st birthday on a fake ID?"  It didn't make any sense. 

After about  a half an hour of trying to reason with this very large laughing man, I look up.  My jaw drops, and there HE is.  He's walking towards us.  Oh, my.  He's even better looking in person. I think, "how embarrassing." So, Mr. Corbett comes over to find out what is holding up the line.  The bouncer says, "this little girl is trying to pass off a fake ID to get in."  The owner takes the ID from the bouncer, looks at it, smiles, and says, "smile for me, April." 

If you know me, you know at least two things: one, I blush the color of a cooked lobster...even the part in my hair turns red; and two, I have a goofy grin.  So I immediately blush, try to stifle the goofy grin and try to put on a pretty smile instead.  It doesn't work. The goofy grin shows up anyway.  So, I get the biggest grin of my life.  He looks back at the bouncer, shows him the ID, and says, "This is definitely her...look at her beautiful smile."  Could I get any redder?  The bouncer still proclaims that it's a fake and the owner says (which I smiled even more and scream "HA!"--in my head of course)...he says, "If it were a fake ID, why on earth would it say 'under 21' and why would she put that TODAY was her 21st birthday?"  I loved this man's reasoning. 

So, JC, my new best friend, asks me to come in, no cover charge, and says he wants to buy me my first drink on my 21st birthday.  "I don't drink alcohol," I say. He looked at me strangely, laughs, and wants to know why I stood in line in the rain, argued with the bouncer for 30 minutes to get into a club if I don't drink.  My mind races..."Think fast, April! Reason one, I wanted to see you. No don't say that.  Reason two...think, April, think. Damn it!"  "Umm, I knew you owned the club?"  I blush, again! Uggh.

He said, "well, what do you want to drink?  Anything you like, it is on me."  ...hmm, I love Shirley Temples...do NOT say that.  Ask for a virgin screwdriver, no that's just a stupid way of asking for a glass of orange juice (thanks, mom).  Executive decision...I'm going with the Shirley Temple.  "Shirley Temple, please."  More chuckling from him.  Thanks.  "Do you want anything else, it's on me." (I wished he would stop saying that, I'm way too literal)..."extra cherries?" I say.  Oh my God, please let me die!  As a great bartender, he pours me the best Shirley Temple ever, and gives me an entire glass of extra cherries.  Awesome. 

Later that night, when I finally found my friend, who had been drinking quite a bit, I took his keys away from him after much argument.  To this day, I'm the only female to ever drive the truck he called Black Beauty.  My 21st birthday was a great success.  I enjoyed myself, met John Corbett, he bought me a drink, I got to drive the Black Beauty...good stuff.

P.S. I was carded for every rated "R" movie I went to until I was 36.  That's okay, I can live with that. 

Women's Bathrooms at Bars

There is a reason women take forever in the bar bathrooms.  Sometimes there is a really long line.  Lots of times they are "adjusting", reapplying makeup, checking their teeth, smoothing out their dresses or outfits, or just plain putting everything back in its place.  Oh, and they go in there to gossip...about everything. It's almost as if the bathroom is a secret world where they think no one else can hear them. 

If it weren't a bathroom, I would stand in there taking notes of the stuff I overheard because it is entertaining.  I feel for those bathroom attendants who hand out hairspray, mints, hand towels, and such while they have to listen to the various noises and smells emanating from the users in the bathroom.  At lease they have some sort of amusement listening to the patrons?

But I digress.  Women don't necessarily dress for men.  They think they do.  They try short shirts, tight shirts, low-cut tops, but in reality, they really just don't want to be judged by the other women. 

Some conversations that can be over heard are, "Do I look too skanky?" "How does my cleavage look?" "Can you seem my underwear line?"  "How's my hair?" "Do you think so-and-so noticed me?" "OMG, did you see what so-and-so was wearing?"  Sometimes there are questions and comments to improve upon something even so simple as, "Your tag is showing." What type of lip gloss is that, it is great." Other times women just compliment each other without prompts.  It goes on and on. 

The women's bathroom has many purposes at a bar.  One is to definitely relieve oneself, meaning urinating or just taking a break, gossipping, rearranging...and planning.  There is a lot of planning that goes on in a bar bathroom. So, guys, next time a woman says "the line was really long," it might have been the case, but that just might not be the only reason.  They had a plan.

Everyone's Journey is each others

Everyone's journey in life is connected.  We may not each feel it as we stand alone in this over-populated world, but if you sit and listen you can hear the loneliness, the pain, the anger, the joy, the pleasure, or the gladness of life.

Most of us want to feel something different than how we already do, but somewhere, even in the same room, someone is wishing they felt like you.

I've been going to new places, watching people, learning from them:

The lonely man smoking and drinking in the corner with all his burdens out for all to see, even in his silence.

The young woman with the shrill laughter that is filled with an unmistakable insecurity and phony fun as she complains about anything to anyone who will listen to her grating and unsettling voice.

The small groups of young men out on the prowl for something they think they desire as they brag about their meaningless accomplishments to each other if no females will listen. 

The young women are out for attention in search of some idea of this elusive falling in love with a man at a bar who sounds so accomplished and looks pretty in his neatly pressed clothes.

There is the bartender doing her job, smiling, putting up with the irate drunks who hound her and bother her, yet she puts on the face of a professional, works hard and fast.  She listens, multi-tasks and gets the job done.  The bartender's job isn't just to serve drinks.  Her job isn't necessarily to listen to sob stories, but she gives people what they ask for without outward judgement.  She is like the figurative psychiatrist dispensing the liquid drug to her patients. In this case, the patients just tell her the concoction they think will do the trick.  I find this woman to be impressive as I watch her work and deal.  She has her own story, yet it doesn't show. Steadily she works in her friendly manner as the patrons make demands.

As the night wears on, the real faces, without the masks, start to show on the customers who just don't want to go home, or haven't found someone to go home to.  Sometimes the people just give up, walk away, and leave to go back to the world they were escaping from.  Sometimes they leave because the lights come on after the final last call and they go somewhere else to locate their wishes they have for themselves.  When they don't find it, probably because they don't know what the really desire, they come back night after night. 

The same people in the same place makes it almost like a family that is accepting of them as they/we go through our journey making turns and getting lost along the way.  It always feels good to walk in and be given a warm friendly welcome.

No matter where you are in your journey, someone else is right there with you.  Your journey is theirs and their journey is yours.  We are all connected.  We just hope to connect to each other on a deeper level and really feel the way we desire.

The Mimic?

Is there a place in this world for me?  Will there be time for me to see? I am afraid.  Frightened.  Petrified to the core.  I am useless and forgotten.  In this life is there more?  Am I missing the point by looking so hard?  I am confused and alone; sad and unknown...to myself.

I stare into the mirror.  The reflection is not me.  Who is that? Is that what they see? "Who are you?" I ask aloud to the person in the mirror.  I am not proud.  She is older and different. A stranger is looking back at me.  She mimics my movements, but I see no thoughts.  When there is no mirror, the thoughts are surrounding me, vivid for all to see.  Transparent? Not me. 

My body has a mask.  Walls built up in a flash.  Over the years rebuilt and repaired.  Stronger than ever, I do not dare to break through the walls to find out who's there. 

Sleep Evades Me

Without pain
you do not know life. 
Without love
you do not know life.
I do not know life.
I only know the half of it.
Pain comes and goes.
Life is fleeting,
yet seems so long.
I cry at the beauty of life.
I cry out in pain.
I still see no future,
yet I have been living my own for all these years.
Time floats before us
and passes by us.
Constant is time.
Constant is pain.
Consistency is permanent
as we float on by.
I try as I might for
a positive foot holding.
Suffering is holding me here afloat.
Let me be gone.
Gone amongst the wind
to the multitude of stars in the sky.
Let me see from far above
to find my way in the land without love.
I search, not to be in love,
but to live around love...
Compassion, passion, desire, and hope.
Seeking clarity.
Holding on to the tendrils left on my rope.
Climb as I may
float as I might,
the end is near.
Fight through the night.
Sleep evades me.
Thoughts invade me.
Let it rain and cleanse me.
The guilt of sin betrays me
through the restless nights. 
Walk on through life.
Keep laughing, keep smiling.
Pretend to see what is right.
We are all lost and afraid.
Society is dismayed.
Civilization has an end
because man has no friend.