So, my new leaf I was all kinds of turning over... Yea, about that...
Wait, let's back up a bit. I decided a few months ago to start connecting with the men who came in my life, to stop being so distant and guarded. Oh yeah, and to stop sleeping with boys.
This is hard for me. I'm not running around hopping on every pop that pops up, no, no there aren't any slut baggers in my camp, but for those who do get lucky, I'm a complete wall. For example, my current man friend or lover or whatever actually called me out post-coitus the other day, asking why I was so far away, both literally and metaphorically. I was genuinely sleepy and we all know how I hate cuddling anyway. The truth is, I learned a while ago to just shut that valve off. One too many heartaches and you just sort of say, "how can I keep this from happening? Oh, I could just not care." And it was hard, I think, I almost don't remember, but I recall realizing that I didn't give a crap. At least surfacely I didn't. I was hanging out with this one guy for much of the earlier part of this year. I knew him from college, but didn't know him. One night we were blowing each other's backs out when I decided to ask him if he had pledged while we were in school. Like while I was bouncing around on him. I'm pretty sure it wasn't the most appropriate time to ask, but I had cum a few times and was starting to get over it. He laughed and told me he had pledged, that I knew this. Maybe I did, but I don't think so. It was in that moment I realized how bogus the situation was. What am I doing, what am I doing. Oh yeah, that's right- I'm doing me and not giving a cat's cradle about anyone else. This could be a problem. This can't be normal.
There's something freeing and refreshing about being the one not to call, the one to roll over and not spoon into the night, the one asking if your're staying or going home while secretly hoping you'll roll out like Luda. But at the same time, it's not admirable to be so apathetic or to have suppressed feelings for so long, you're not sure if they ever existed; almost can't remember the last time you cried yourself to sleep because he dumped you. Told you he didn't want you, pulled the rug from underneath you. This can be a lonely place, not caring. I guess this is when you realize one of two things: you're jaded and love has knocked you out too many times or you've grown up and know what deserves tears and what's just spilled milk. You learn what's worth your time and what is not, what deserves attention and what is better left ignored. The issue, in my opinion, is at some point all that catches up and you say, "Hey, what does it feel like to love someone, to care about someone, to want to be with someone longer than a few nights, to fall again?" I just have so many non-feelings on the issue that I don't even know. It all feels like vulnerability which equals weakness in my brain these days. Obviously not true. I think it takes true courage to put yourself out there, to fall and soar or crash and burn. It's the coward who does otherwise.
So, I guess I'm the cowardly lion in this tale, but at least I'm aware and even though my leaf has blown away down 5th avenue, it's still in view. I can still grab it and start anew, learn to care again, be honest with myself and others. And now I have to stop because this is getting too mushy and emotional. I haven't grabbed the damn leaf yet, back off.
Blackie Collins is a Manhattan turned LA girl with a big heart and a closet full of girly things like skirts and heels. She loves laying on the beach, dogs with people names like Linda, hoop earrings, and sky-high platform heels. When she isn't writing, she can be found scouring blogs, brunching with friends, or enjoying happy hour at any hour of the day. Her true passion is boys. It is perhaps the reason she can't get anything done. She lives in a great, rent controlled apartment with a great, uncontrolled dog. She has quite a few parking tickets, and dreams of the day DVF or YSL decide to slum it with a line in Target. Get it in with her at http://thatbitchstolemyline.com, email her at firstname.lastname@example.org, or follow her on Twitter @blackiecollins.