Sunday, March 8, 2015

One way to celebrate International Women's Day

You are in the town of Davidson. In an area referred to as Colonial Square. You wonder why this area is called Colonial Square when there is no "square" and merely a burned out gazebo with police tape wrapped around it? Well back in the day, 1867, when the township of Davidson was founded, this was the gathering spot for all the townsfolk. And for lack of creativity of the Davidson townsfolk, they named it Colonial Square. According to the plaque, which stands erect and unscathed beside the dilapidated gazebo, this was the place to be if you wanted to watch gunslingers have duels to the death. It was the place to be seen. People will always like to watch a good fight.

As you wonder how many people were killed right where you're standing you think back to what got you here, to this moment. How is it that you are standing right here, right now in this place of historic bloodshed?

Simple answer. You started dating again that's what started all this. One day you were living your single, independent life as a strong, fearless woman- complete all on your own-and then, you met him. And yeah, he was a really good match for you. He was nice, he respected your opinions, he didn't sexually abuse you. Yup he was able to give you the intimacy you needed in your life. That unconditional love you craved and never had. The type of love that is warm, that you snuggle up to, the no strings attached type of love. He genuinely cared about you. Also, he was really good in bed. You are a woman after all, you have needs too.

Anyways, so you had a good year.  Seriously, it was pretty fucking awesome. You had fun together, you shared your stories with each other, you had mind blowing sex with each other, you were both in love with each other. And then it happened. Not all at once, it wasn't exactly gradual but more insidious, like hiding underneath the surface the whole time, waiting to slowly rise out of the depths and make itself known. That completeness you had on your own had become redefined, your conceptualization of completeness now included him.

You came to this revelation earlier that morning when you both were eating breakfast together in that roadside diner bordering the township of Davidson. That roadside diner where you ordered the "traditional breakfast".

Yes, you chose that generic menu item because you were sure that even the most incompetent of humans couldn't fuck up a traditional breakfast. After all, it's eggs, toast and some sort of meat product. How hard is that to throw on a plate and serve to a customer in a timely manner?!

You think of the work it will take to make this meal (which turns out isn't a lot, as apparently the cook made an extra traditional breakfast 10 minutes before you arrived and then decided to serve you that thinking you wouldn't notice if he just threw it in the microwave for 30 seconds beforehand). You then contemplate the numerous health code violations you noted as you followed the waitress as she led you and your boyfriend to your table.

Yes it is never a good sign when the menu they give you is actually two because it is stuck to another menu and the staff can't even be bothered to separate them. Actually stickiness anywhere in a restaurant is never a good sign. For instance, it's never a good sign if after you order you move your arm that was resting on the table and instead of silence you hear a sound that resembles the noise one makes when ripping tape off a cardboard box. It's loud and you kind of feel like gagging. You look up at your waitress, who snaps her bubble gum in response to such uncleanliness, and then says she will go wipe that down for you, only to never return with that promise of proper sanitation.

You look across at your boyfriend, how long have you been with him? One year. That's 365 days where this guy has been linked to you. And you stop and think about that fact for one moment and then you feel the urge to gag. And not gag in a fun sexy "put a cock in your mouth" kind of way but in a "what the fuck was on this table to make it so sticky and why the fuck can't I peal it off my arm?!" kind of way.

You feel your chest tighten and your breath get rapid and shallow, you think you are hyperventilating and are about to have a panic attack when he says:

It's going to be really nice to be able to spend this weekend with you. No outside world, no distractions, just you and me alone for a full three days.

It's fair for him to say this, you rarely make yourself available to him. You're always doing something, like working, going to school, training for marathons, etc. And really, these words should be music to your ears but instead they sound like a death sentence. Actually it's worse than that because you don't actually get to die you have to be alive for every moment of this experience.

Your response:

What do you think the plural word for moose is?

He laughs. He loves your tangents. He accepts you for who you are, not for who he would like you to be. He doesn't answer you, just smiles at you.

You say:

I'm serious what is it?

You discuss the possibilities for a bit while you wait for your food. But nothing is sounding remotely plausible (e.g., moosi?!). And of course this frustrates you because you really want to know what the plural of moose is. So you announce that you are going to find out by checking your iPhone, which you left in the car, so you have to leave but you assure him, that you will be right back.

You almost knock your chair over as you make your exit. When you get outside to the parking lot, you look around and observe a ring of mountains that should look majestic but feel instead suffocating to you. The air is crisp and fresh not like the city air, the city air that you secretly prefer but feel somewhat ashamed admitting to because you are surrounded by all this natural beauty. Shouldn't you prefer nature?! But you don't, you like the city, you like its logic, its process, the control it has over the environment. Out here, it's every man for himself! It's wild and untamed and it scares the fuck out of you and you want to crush it.

You take several deep breaths trying to tap into your meditation practice to help you calm down and get out of your rising panic.

Two words keep floating in your mind: Keeper's Hideaway

That is the name of the place you will be spending the weekend at. A lovely rustic cabin nestled in the mountains surrounded by trails for you to run on, and hot springs for you to soak in. It sounds perfect. Like the perfect place to torture, rape and murder someone. A place where no one will hear your screams.

Then you think, 2001 a space odyssey, wasn't that the tag line for that movie?

You stop your meditation and look around the parking lot. You see a liquor store and contemplate taking up drinking again, if only to give yourself the option of drinking to blackout if you feel uncomfortable this weekend. And then you see it, a store named: Fast toys for boys. And you laugh and walk over to check it out.

Of course you think it's probably only going to sell the usual selection of male-centric commodities but instead it surprises you when you find out it is a sex shop for men, specializing in homosexual themed products. And you think, how progressive, you should support this local business. So you purchase some vanilla lubricants (aimed to make sucking dick more tasty?!) and a strap on (because wouldn't it be fun to fuck your boyfriend for a change?!) and you head back to the restaurant with a smile on your face. 

Your boyfriend looks up at you with adoration. And you feel elated, powerful even, and most importantly the panic is gone. He notes your happy exterior and how he was worried about you earlier because things seemed off with you.

You sit down and you say:

Moose. That is the plural.

***
Things to think about...

The World Health Organization estimates globally:
Happy International Women's Day!!

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