I’ve been down that road. Not as publicly. But I went there in some of my darkest post-breakup hours.
I thought, what if those guys are right and I’m the kind of woman who will only ever be a pump-and-dump? What if my past makes me so broken that the choices I now have for companionship are limited to trolls in (their mothers’) basements? Who don’t have good reasons for being there? Because I could see saving money by living in a basement apartment at home as opposed to wasting it on rent — provided the apartment in question is otherwise up to ordinary adult standards.
And see, if I had gotten a new boyfriend who espoused ideas that maybe I didn’t agree with all the way but I loved him, I might try to understand his ideas better. And I might go overboard. Especially if, charitably speaking, I had been down interesting roads by the time I was 25.
I’ve been spared a lot of difficulties, for all my sins.
I don’t think any of my family would thank me for getting involved with a person whose views denigrated, well, anyone. Not my grandmother, who was the most peaceable person except if you tried to serve her the paltry senior portion from the menu. Not my aunt, who has literally been crapped on multiple times just to earn a buck and who went back for more (geriatric nurses, y’all are heroes). Not my mother, the first one in the family to earn a four-year degree, some of which was accomplished with this particular babe in arms. Not my dad, who stayed in the military for 20 years, many of those as a counselor. I grant you, he was (is?) a crack shot. He just… found a different niche. The people he saw. Whooooooeeeee.
Maybe my half-aunt. But not my auntie-in-law from Canada. Somehow they manage to travel together without murder happening, so.
I know, at least, that I am grateful my every move doesn’t inspire blog posts and YouTube videos. I am grateful that all these discussions are happening in not my space because I do not have the energy for them; I would rather focus on getting my own world in order. And I was never a fan to begin with, so my personal investment is low.
I only know that in her shoes, I’d be tempted, too.
But I came back to myself.
I came back to a self that had strayed into a thought adventure and come out — different. One of my favorite words for myself is “heterodox” because I really don’t seem to be able to buy wholeheartedly into anyone else’s movement. Mari Going Her Own Way. I can’t even bring myself to deny squires their sprinkles, if they’ve been good squires. I think God is a brilliant white light that lives inside all of us and we live inside God. I think Jesus had great things to say just like a lot of early philosophers, and I won’t throw him out of my life because he has some nasty followers. I think you have the right to do what you want with your body and I have the same right to not do anything with mine. I am okay with your bikini and I hope you are okay with my knee-length shorts and one-piece suit.
We none of us know who we’ll be next year. (Except I think I’ll be more conventionally attractive owing to the hair growth.)
So if I don’t understand, I understand that it’s not given to me to understand. If I don’t know, I may not be meant to know. I know that people have already been hurt, and I don’t want any more of that. But I’m a bit of a coward in that I’m not even saying her name. I don’t want the heat. I just want to get these thoughts down in blogspace. I hope the end is better than the beginning I’m seeing. I hope. And that’s how I have to be right now.