Stupid Girls

Saturday, July 03, 2004

she knows

You are reading

repost: You are reading

I tried to tell her today. But I needed to protect myself. I mean, it's theoretically possible she might have gotten back in her car, driven off, and left me and Porkchop at Petroglyphs Monument. I doubt it, but I'm street; I take care of myself.

It was a beautiful morning: sunrise over the Sandias, hiking with the dog.

She came back here and showed me a film she'd made. It was very interesting. It told me a lot about the inside of her mind. I was encouraged.

And, as was the plan, once the movie ended, she got up to leave.

Oh, I was hoping I'd get to ask then. But she was already standing and packing.

I walked her out.

She stepped over my fence. That boundary between us: don't follow; stay on your own side.

My heart was screaming, "TELL her! Don't do this to yourself!"

But I let her go without asking my questions. It was too late. She was too determined to continue her day and her plans.

I felt tested: don't cling, Rogi. Don't demand.

She edited one of our future plans: we won't have a picnic before we attend an event next week.

Ouch. What does that mean?

I came in and sat down, still slightly in shock from the power of my own emotions.

I sent an email. I said there are things I need to ask her; could she find some time, so I could do this in person, rather than by email?

I came to this blog and reread my questions.

With some MINOR editing, I sent them to her. I sent her Wild Women, too.

I haven't been this affected by a woman in fifteen years, I told her. It makes me shy around her. And I apologized for not being honest. She deserves that.

I'll take care of myself, whatever happens. I always have.

I wish I'd told her today. But I don't regret taking as good care of myself as I know how.

I love a woman! That's so precious to me! It means I have my courage back. It means I can be authentic again.

This is a nervous thing, of course.

But it's also the greatest blessing I could have been given.

I feel complete. I feel healed. I feel whole.

However she chooses to deal with this is hers.

But I love a woman. I'm Home.