Roasting on the Coast

It is Christmas morning, and I am not roasting in the literal sense. I am roasting in the spiritual, emotional sense, if one is able to do that. Surrounded by my childhood/youth hood things...a doll stared at me as I was falling asleep (which might have something to do with my crazy dreams), I tried on my old prom dress again (JUST squeezed it on) and found some cool, clunky 1990's mary jane shoes. And so, for protection, I put my boyfriend's photo on the bedstand, read a book I am reading for a book club out West, shoved the creepy doll in a drawer, and tried to sleep. Okay, here is a moment of confession...i felt a little, well, spooked. I was the only one sleeping up there, and the last thing I found while rummaging through my old closet was a well-preserved wedding dress that I assume was my now-deceased grandmother's. I also must confess something else. It wasn't my prom dress that I squeezed into: it was my mother's wedding dress. It's different coming home now. With ghosts and hopes.

Lips and Fingertips

I can't keep my lips off you, she says
And he lifts his hands to her face
Erasing the pain of her past
Bringing her into the present
With his fingertips.

Flying in Circles

The first few days he was gone, I felt like I was walking around with shoes that didn't quite fit. They were two big: they kept falling off, but I didn't have any way of fixing them. I was stuck with these shoes for a while and stuck with not having any clear path or direction. How is it that after living my own adult life for a decade, directing my life and making a billion daily choices, he is gone and I forget how it's all done?

After he flew off, back home, for a two week stay, I lay in a hot bath and tried to read a magazine to keep my mind off the gnawing emptiness creeping into my belly. I tried to relax enough to let the warm water soothe the ache that threatened to suck up any peace I had left within. Instead, I closed my eyes and visualized exactly how I felt. Somehow, putting it to words grounded me. One line came, and I sang it to the steamy tiled walls of my bathroom:

It feels like I'm flyin in circles
When you're gone I have only one wing
It feels like I'm flyin in circles
Still, I'll fly till I see you again.

Sugar = A Poem

Hand on my back
I arch to reach
And take in
What he offers

Honey pours on my lips
The creme de la creme
The slow molasses
His licorice tongue
His red bubblegum lips
His sugar-dappled chin

Sweep me up like a part
Of your recipe
Fold me into your mix
I am a goner to this sweetness
This is no saccharine
No imitation sugar
Splenda, Sweet & Low, Equal
No.
This is the real deal.

Roll me in it,
Douse me with it
Don't let me get enough
So I can dream the promise
Of more to come
Only this will keep my sweet tooth
Satisfied.
Memories linger sweetness on my tongue.

You are my sugar
My sweet addiction
Take me
And fold me in.

Stair-stepping Phases

My boyfriend and I really really like each other. As in, one of us is always touching the other when we are together. Hand on knee, holding hands, even barefoot touching leg, it's crazy, it's like we are one of those underwater creatures that is all connected, depending on the others for survival...what is that, coral?

Anyway..we were recently at a local deli getting dinner and the young man behind the counter commented on our honeymooning, blissed-out decorum. "Wow, you guys are really happy. That's awesome." To which my lovely (if not faultless--okay, remember, I am in the honeymoon-stage, and I'm gonna enjoy it, dammit..) boyfriend replies, "Even on a bad day, it's a good day with her." (Altogether: "AW." Or "Blech," I suppose, depending on your own personal situation. If it makes you BLECH, perhaps you can move on to another blog. It isn't too late.) He motions to me and I beam my Fourth of July sunshiny smile at him. And he blushes. He is always blushing and I am forever finding ways to make him do so. It's so fun (beam).

Anyhoo, we have been, over the last couple of weeks, meeting for coffee in the early hours of the morning. Now, I must say this is a WONDERFUL incentive for getting out of bed, but we were also locking lips until late at night each night. Which means, basically, we are both EXHAUSTED. He was the one to realize that I was worn out. I went for a walk after work yesterday and my thoughts started out with, "Oh, isn't it nice that things are going so well with us" to "Oh now I have found a major red flag and I need to talk to him about it right away!" What started as a stroll ended up a death march.

All he asked was, "Are you tired?" And it all broke loose. As our conversation unfolded, we both realized that we cannot keep up this marathon of emotion. It's just too much. It's been fun, but honestly, I am ready for the next phase. And he agrees. What I need to really believe is that each phase has it's beauty, it's fun, it's emotional depth. The kisses will be sweeter because we know each other better. Our time together will be more precious, because we know what it's worth. I am ready.

Purple Jelly Boundaries

So, as you may have read in one of my recent posts, I was hitting some uncertainty about the current guy I am dating. And, while I am still in the blended stages of Attraction/Uncertainty, I have taken some steps to help me move into a place where I feel more safe, more cared for, more well-oxygenated. There is a little thing called Boundaries that I have learned about during this past year. Something I never knew a whole lot about, and something that felt cold and like a hard, metal, barbed wire barrier. My boundaries are pink, and cheerful, and healthy and made of bouncy, spongy material. If you hit one, you will know that you have hit it, but you won't be too scarred. The thing that helped me through the obsessiveness about being uncertain about this guy (who is so great, by the way, and so worth all of this...at least so far he has been!) has been to figure out some boundaries (pink, jelly-filled and smelling of roses and lavender) that will give me some room to breathe. In the past, I always was honest with the guys. And that is great. As in, "I had a great time kissing you last night but then I woke up this morning and had a panic attack." And I have always dated very nice, polite guys. But I always, always assumed that it was just ME. That I just GOT anxious a month into the relationship. What I learned this time around was that I had OPTIONS. I didn't have to feel crazy. I could be honest, yes, but also DO something about it. So, I set up boundaries. And he was understanding and even obliging, though I know it was hard for both of us. The thing was, I was feeling smothered; too much too fast. And so, the pink and purple jelly-filled walls went up, and for a week, we both stood behind them, on tip-toes, seeing what the other person might do. And the funny thing was, I like the boundaries, but I also started liking HIM more. I suddenly missed him. I wanted to be with him. I wanted the weekend to come as soon as possible so I could see him. One boundary was no hanging out on weeknights in order to respect my need to adjust to a new job. Another one was less phone-chatting. I am not big into the phone; never have been. Well, excepting the inevitable junior high telephone-pasted-to-the-ear epidemic. He lived five miles from me. Why shouldn't we be sitting across from each other talking. But, after telling him this, I inevitably wanted to talk to him. I called him every night last week. And though I was afraid he would think me as much of a flake as I felt I was, he was mostly just very glad I called.

Intercultural Relations

This weekend I attended a picnic with Beginning Guy, and I got to meet his siblings and niece and nephew. And, I have come to realize that when you bring together two people, you are also bringing together two cultures. Yesterday, I found myself in foreign territory.

I knew we had different upbringings. I knew that his family would be very different from mine, and that he is very different from his family. Let's just say that he has evolved BEYOND some of the less-attractive qualities of his family, at least less attractive to moi. Although I did not get to know his family members very well, I did meet them, and observe their interactions with others, and with my companion. And here I have listed a few family cultural norms.

LANGUAGE: Lots of teasing; shallow talk, coarse joking, lots of physical affection with the kids.

HISTORY: Fraught with failed father, much of male siblings' behavior is because of how they were treated as children.

LAWS: Much more conservative in their thinking. I found myself wondering if they had an option would they actually want me teaching their children? Scary thought.

Another law: FAMILY comes first. This can be a positive quality, as long as it is in its proper balance. And this in his situation, I know it has been out of balance. A lot of pressure. Like my family, in fact. And here, I felt like an outsider for sure. No one made an effort at integrating me into their culture, except perhaps the 10 year old nephew and the elder brother, who stood up at one point from his drum set and yelled, "Hey Kate, I hear you sing! Wanna join us?!" Which I felt was very inclusive and kind.

I suppose I knew most of these, from hearing about them from him, but experiencing them was a different story. Would we be invited to beer bashes and football games? We might be. Will I be the token Hippie Liberal among Political and Religious Conservatives? Perhaps. Here is where I see Boundaries coming into play. The boundaries will be needed between the two of us and each of our families for sure; my family is not much easier to abide.

After that exhausting day, it was so comforting to come back to my place, to hold his hand and watch a movie and laugh. And to think how grateful I am that I am dating him and not his family.

Or, am I?