I can’t believe I have finally finished school. This has been the longest few years I can remember. Well, except for the first few years of raising Dani myself, which has been rewarding if scary. I had no idea if I could be a mother. Wait, that’s not exactly right. I knew I could be a mother… I have all the working parts to make a human life. I didn’t know if I would be a good mother because I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to be someone’s mother. Dani wasn’t a well thought out plan with all the makings of a permanent relationship such as marriage, but things happen when you give up virtue for lust. I don’t regret having her but if I could have a do-over, I might have her at a later time in my life when I might be more secure in who I am. I wonder- does that happen? Do people really ever learn who they are and feel comfortable about it? Or do we spend our lives in search of something that is elusive and not for us to know? Sometimes I think it’s the latter… the gift of the Gods… the purpose for living… trying to figure out who I am and why I’m living.
Now that school is done, quite successfully I might add, I can get on with the business of living with some flair. Somehow I have managed to find a cute little house for Dani & I to live in that is within the meager monthly means I earn. The owner is actually giving me a wonderful discount on what the standard market rent should be. I have to wonder what he might want in return for that. It has come to my attention that usually, men want something. There goes that virtue again. I’ll scratch your back if you scratch my… itch. That’s the golden rule of men these days. Has it always been that way? I haven’t figured out why it is they come after me like that. I’m not cute, I’m pudgy, a frump of no real class or taste. I have plain brown hair and brown eyes, not particularly tall or lanky and I have absolutely no fashion sense at all. Maxine of cartoon fame said it best, “The best bra ever invented is a sweatshirt.” I much prefer sweatshirts and jeans coupled with some beat up sneakers and maybe a bandana on my head to the sexy black dress and heels. I can’t walk in heels to save my soul. The ankles wobble and shimmy eventually causing my ass to hit the ground. Maybe that’s what makes me a safe lay. I’m the girl who will be so grateful to get laid that the reason why wouldn’t really matter. Unfortunately, they fail to realize that it does matter. I want love and affection, not just sex. I want to be important to someone, be the reason they start each day skipping to the beat of MY drum. Let me tell you, my drum is one hell of a piece of tympanic wonderment that no one has had the opportunity to learn about.
The house is a cute little two bedroom wood frame relic from the 1800’s I think. Gas heaters in each room, gas stove, window AC units. It’s all good though because it’s mine. Just mine. I can decorate it in the manner that best suits my taste even if that means hanging Led Zeppelin posters on every single wall in the joint. I won’t do that though. I’m trying to grow up here… maybe. Dani has her own room that is not only a place for her to sleep but has enough room for all of her toys including a playground if we wanted. She loves her new space as much as I love mine. I imagine what it would be like to entertain friends and family here in the backyard with lights in the trees, and meat on the grill, maybe some nice Willie playing in the background. But that won’t happen. I don’t have any friends. Okay, that’s not exactly true. I have some friends but I don’t get to spend time with them.
I spend my time sitting and waiting. I wait for Kevin to pull into my driveway and I don’t make any other plans because I don’t want to miss an opportunity to spend some time with him. Let me just say that a great deal of this waiting time, I try to examine what a fool I must be. I talk to myself telling me that this is just the most idiotic thing I could be doing. I’m missing out on life for what? A perceived love that is greater than anything I’ve ever known. Fool. There is one aspect of this lifestyle (is it fair to call it a lifestyle?) that I see as a huge benefit – for Dani. I am spending huge amounts of time with her. We read, we color, we play games, and we use our imaginations. There is no television or telephone in our little house. We listen to music. Her favorites are the classic rock songs of the 60’s and 70’s. I don’t know of another 4 year old child than can sing every word to Proud Mary.
I listen to stories of my co-workers who have gone out the night before and how much fun they had. I try to participate in conversations about things going in the community, but that doesn’t go so well since the only community I belong to is the one inside the walls of my reduced rent house. And I can’t talk about my relationship with Kevin. It’s important to him that we keep our relationship just between us. That’s okay with me because I don’t really want to share him with anyone. I don’t think it’s weird or strange that we keep things quiet. This is a very special and intense relationship that many people wouldn’t understand. You see, Kevin is a little more than twice my age. Actually, I think he’s a bit older than my father. Somehow I think I would be judged or ridiculed for that. Unless you’ve been in a relationship with a much older man, you just don’t know what you’re missing out on. Older men like Kevin really know how to appreciate a woman, much more than the men my age. There is no wham bam thank you ‘mam in this relationship. Not at all, ever. Kevin is all about me, what I want, need, like, or desire. I’m so completely obsessed with this man that I am unable to think of anything other than when I will see him next.
I realize this is sick, a sick and very twisted obsession with another person. Surely it cannot be healthy. Perhaps if I could talk to someone about our relationship they would tell me about exactly unhealthy it is. Maybe this would help me know in my heart that this is wrong on so many levels, levels that I don’t even know about yet.