The First Time...
I was a child. Fourteen years old. I didn't know what I was doing. Though I thought I did. I had grown up fast in a lot of ways. I had been given responsibilities beyond my age range and without an understanding of what they meant. And with those responsibilities I had been given entitlements and privileges. For better or worse, I believed I was ready to have an adult relationship with a man.
Let me backtrack a bit...
From a very early age, five years old, I dreamt of being in love. I longed for "The One" and to live happily ever after with my "One True Love". For many reasons, that has been a life long desire of mine. Pretty much my only desire. And the most elusive.
Back to the summer of 1980
I had a woman's body at 14 years old. I had a child's heart and an adolescent mindset. I did not understand the first thing about love, relationships or how men and women interacted. I did not have positive role models in my life. The best information I had came from romance novels, love songs, television shows, movies, Cosmo and my own families' brokenness.
I discovered that summer that my body was being admired by men. At the time, I thought this meant that they wanted to love me. In my naivete I believed desire equaled love. I developed a crush, an infatuation, on a man 7 years my senior. I don't know what it was about him, perhaps it was the attention he gave me, but I hung around him, and in hindsight I realize I was blatantly flaunting my wares at him. I might as well have hung a sign on myself that said "take me". He, being a young, red-blooded, male, read the signs I was clearly emitting and eventually took me up on the offer.
The day of The Event began like any other day of my life. I woke up, ate breakfast, took a shower and got dressed. I walked to this young man's apartment and prepared myself to be "changed forever". I won't go into the details, but pretty soon after coitus started I realized I didn't want to continue. The pain was excruciating. He was not having it. I was reluctant to resist as I desperately wanted his affection and wanted him to love me, so I conceded to his wishes (a habit I would continue for decades to come) in hopes that he would love me. Afterwards, with blood having soiled his sheets, he seemed much more concerned with the damage to his sheets than the damage to me. He shooed me off his bed in a brusque manner and then got to the task of taking care of those darn sheets. He then said casually "I guess you were a virgin". He pretty much pushed me out the door to be left to my own defenses and ignored me thereafter.
For a week I was completely disconnected. I disassociated from my body and was in a state of shock. I froze emotionally in that moment in time. It was horrible, on many levels, the damage to my body, soul, psyche. I felt unwanted, shamed, rejected, dirty, ugly, disgusting, foul, and mostly - completely and totally - unlovable. I was good enough to f*ck but not good enough to love.
Not to be a drama queen, but this experience had a traumatic effect on me and my life. Because, even until last year at 48 years old, I was still able to be swayed by a man who said he loved me but only wanted to have sex with me. Inside I was still that 14 year old girl trapped inside of an adult woman's body. I "should" have known better. I felt shame for my naivete at my age. Yet, clarity had still not come to me. I was repeating that cyclical pattern.
I grew up in an era of "Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll", where Women's Lib was a movement and perhaps misunderstood, at least by me. I learned how to have sex, but I never learned how to have a relationship with a man. I have not had any long term relationships but I have prided myself on my self-sufficiency and independence and the ability to "not need a man" to take care of me. And while those are admirable qualities, that I can procure an income and maintain a home, it says little of my ability to communicate and interact with the opposite sex. That's where I feel I have let myself down.
Not to throw myself a pity party....
In the years I was not having relationships, I was working hard, gaining an education, raising a wonderful, loving and intelligent child, and developing strong friendships with my female forces. Now I'm taking the time to get to know me on a deeper level. It's a strange and odd thing for me to experience. I don't find it unpleasant. Just odd. And strange... :)
And where do I go from here???
I feel adrift at sea most days. In this maze of the dynamic between men and women. What the hell is going on? Why does it seem so difficult to me? I don't want much, I don't require much, and yet it (a loving relationship) has been the most elusive quest of my entire life.
I wonder if I just quit? A part of me certainly wants to. I feel weary and tired and DONE as in D.O.N.E. Just done with it all. The games, the pain, the runaround, the patterns, the unknown, what feels like a mind f*ck to me. I mean, not to say I haven't spent a good time of my adult life alone, because I have. I have spent many years alone when I was raising my daughter. Perhaps those years of solitude do not count.
So I go back to the drawing board and begin yet again.
Lucky for me solitude is not a scary prospect. I don't mind it. I kind of dig it.
Frankly, in a few more years any interest in men is going to be gone anyway.
At least I have that to look forward to.
Always an upside.
All that aside...Love remains my Soul's Purpose. To Be Love. Not to be IN Love. Just to BE Love. To spread Love, which I consider the Cosmic, Magical Fairy Dust of Life.
That I can do...
And THAT...is the Sweetest Thing....
picture :
Maya Angelou
