With or Without You

     





     Every woman has been the star of her own romance, her own love triangle. We have our Romeo's and Paris', Ashleys' and Rhett's, Jacob's and Edward's.   The terrible thing? What we really want is to create a mash up of the two to create our perfect man. 


 I remember one such summer. Only  in this story,  the gentlemen have the most common names in the modern era.  I had been greedy, I had wanted and hurt them both.  One of them was a gentle giant I could take into the city, take to museums, blend into polite society without worry of his committing a faux pax. He gave my intelligence more credit than I did. I saw with him a comfortable life,  blonde children, and snow.


 The other?  A cowboy as simple and ernest as the mud on his boots and the pearl snaps on his shirts. He understood my need to breathe country air and  drive  old back roads. He understood and loved cans of beer drunk from aluminum cans in dive bars. With him I saw a future of  cotton dresses worn on porch swings, humid nights and  dark eyed babies . 


 I had discarded them for another chance at the wedding ring that had never fully left my heart. After shattering that illusion I chucked the ring , and  now I wanted my  true loves back. I didn't care  which one.I was grateful for whatever they gave me.  Funny thing was I more faithful to the both of them my last single summer than I had been when I was with them.  I had behaved badly , and they were  giving it back to me in spades.  I thought I was going to die , as I slept on my own bed of nails every night.    The pages of my  diary  bled with my shredded dignity. My hands were tied and my heart was torn.  I waited. 

 I waited longer as that summer  turned to fall, then winter.  The human heart can only take so much.  I gave up on the cowboy and settled for being friends.  Summer came round again , and my giant was leaving for  the Black Hills and a future  where I could not follow. I wondered how I would live, his ghost was everywhere .

     Salvation came in a dive,  clean of the ghosts of lover's past.  He had been reared in the city, but could not hide his country heart. Suddenly I realized he was the perfect match for me.  He combined the qualities I loved most from my former loves . He brought qualities I could not have dreamed. He folded me into his life until I could not remember my life before him.  The wait was over. No more stony eyes, no twisting thorn in my side.  I was  whole .

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The pretty girls are listening.....

I went  to my favorite karaoke  bar last weekend. I wore my "Jack (Daniels) Lives here"  T shirt, some flats and a pony tail.  It was a spur of the moment decision and I did not feel like making a fuss.  I wanted music,  friends and an ice cold Wood Chuck hard cider.


   Around  eleven thirty a group of girls having a batchelorette party came in. They were young and gorgeous and fun.   Their vibe got the party started. Soon other people started coming in and the place filled . Being on my own for the night, I  drifted from group to group and eventually found myself  in the courtyard of the bar.  I sat down to talk to an acquaintance.  On the low brick wall by the entrance was a group of  guys . They were watching and commenting on girls as they walked in.  We heard an odd sound coming from the wall as a group of girls came in.  The cause for the noise? A very tall girl came in wearing jeans and flip flops  was causing a stir.  She must have been at least  6' and was not rail thin. She stood head and shoulders above her  high heel wearing friends.  As they  passed the wall, I heard a string of negative comments directed at the girl.

   I've seen  this and worse in the form of  banners on trucks  saying " No fat chicks"  and facebook status'  asking why  ugly girls are convinced that they are beautiful.  I see  and hear these sentiments and it pisses me off.  But  I would be lying if I wrote  that this was new behavior.


   I had a similar experience  in the  last days of the gay 90's.   I remember going out almost every night with  my girlfriends.  We would spend  hours getting our hair and makeup just right. We bonded over  the requisite  manicures and pedicures.  Who could forget the necessary disco naps?  I remember our  air kisses blown at our reflections and our  exclamations that the guys we would meet that night  were not worthy of our beauty!

 We cruised the floors together and separate, with my main hangout being the  Karaoke part of the club.  I was friendly with the dj's  here, even having  my own nic name.  I felt as comfortable  there as I did my own living room I remember seeing  a couple of very attractive guys one evening. I approached them with a smile and flirted with them for a few minutes.  We found out we had a couple things in common.  Everything seemed to be going well until one of the men pulled a napkin from his pocket. Written on  it was a telephone number and a girl's name in swirling  script.  The  "I" in her name was dotted  with a heart.  My  face fell a little . The guys at the table assured me I was prettier than the girl who had given her number  and I knew, a piece of  hope.  I watched him shred her number into little strips into an ashtray.  To my horror he grabbed one of the club's matchbooks, lit one and  tossed it into the pile of shredded napkin.  Both guys laughed at the silly girl who had thought she was pretty enough.  I knew then that my number , if given. could meet the same fate.   At the very least  I was no longer interested. In trying to be  funny I saw  thier true colors.   I left thier company  as quickly as  politely possible.

 Even though this happenend over a decade ago I'm still shocked  and saddened.  But as a warning to  all the foolish  and mean  guys in groups of more than one : Remember the pretty girls are listening. We  are not impressed by your behavior.

 

BFF Cant Buy Me Love?

      Money can't buy me love.  But it can allow me full immersion into this  smoky club, where  I can be  enveloped by this throng of bodies. The sound coming from a baritone sax  can reach my bar stool from a hundred feet away. It can fill my ears to take me  to another place where the music is loud enough to create pockets of isolation , allowing me the privilege of looking into my long stemmed martini glass and not having to make conversation with those around me. 

  It is too loud to force  more than a shouted plea for an acid green appletini, no sugar on the rim of the glass please... no grenadine or cherry. I want a  twist of lemon .  I like alcohol flavored alcohol. This is a smooth, silky goose. I need that tiny citrus kick.  After watching my bartender flamenco with his shaker and watching the flourish of the liquid lust  swirl into a glass chilled to be as cold as my heart. His lifted brows ask if the first sip was good enough.  My lowered  eyes and raised glass answer the question as I smile my reply.  He leaves to answer the next shouted drink order. The  the smell of limes protruding from the neck of" dos Coronas, por favor" tickle my nose and cause me to lift my eyes and take in my surroundings.

 These exposed brick walls soar high above my head to reach a punched tin ceiling. They anchor the iron staircase with it's ornate railings and it's narrow mezzanine that swarms with a human parade going from the main floor to the throbbing dance floor on the second level. I see ingenues with their  belted a-line dresses and tiny sparkling clutches. I see the danger girls in their skin tight leggings , exposed shoulders and high platform caged shoes.  Interspersed with these era spanning girls are the popped collar boys in their fitted  graphic tees  with velvet burn out and too tough sneer.  The occasional hipster with disheveled hair , thick black framed glasses and  skinny jeans weaves his way through with a studied nonchalance , edging towards boredom.

 I sit here, on this bar stool, perpendicular to the bar and  let my senses feast . My tart cold drink, slides it's way down my throat as I inhale the perfume of bodies, smoke and the mingled cologne of the surging human mass.  The smoke of countless cigarettes fills my nostrils and clings to my hair and clothing.  It will one  of the few things to touch me intimately tonight.  It's  only competition is the urgent pounding of the music.  Being easy, I let both of them have their way.  With my pocket of isolation, I may as well be the only one in the room.

 Another appletini later, the band packs up and the atmosphere changes. I draw the last drops into my mouth. I pay my tab and thank my  kind host for a  lovely evening.  So , no money can't buy me love. But it  can afford me  these moments to be alone in crowded places. It gives me  this unexplainable peace and enjoyment.  When your love is miles away ,it's amazing what 12.50 will get you.