Mon Roi
First of all, he is tall, he is smart and educated. A half-blood prince, if you will and he was exactly that. This man, proved to be more of a barbarian, came into my life, not charging as one might expect. Instead he was subtle. He took me by surprise. My behavior was quite out-of-character for me. Yet, for him I changed. Much like a 16-year-old experiencing her first crush. I found myself doing things, that I would adamantly tell you, “Oh no I don’t do that.” He inspired me, he excited me, he made me laugh with his kinda corny humor and annoying laugh. I found myself thinking again. We talked for hours on end, yet the next time we spoke we still had things to discuss. He’d read and quote poetry. He’d speak to me in French. Armed with my translation app, I’d respond. So much of who I am said, “Get the fuck outta here FAST”. Yet at the same time I said, “There is nothing to be afraid of.” He will protect me; he will take care of me.” In turn I will do as he says/asks. I’d tell myself,” You are a strong, independent lady…” Then I was preoccupied with pleasing him. I look and feel different. I was told by people who had not seen me in months, I was glowing and giggly. People who saw me all the time said the very same things. Being with him taught me what was/ is really important, what it is that I am actually looking for.
He said we were in love, and he saw the change a few weeks ago. In love! I was not tryin for that scenario. It all happened so fast, so unexpectedly. Then I started thinking and chit got real! The problem with thinking is thoughts of all types come blazing through. “Not tryin for that”, well I saw to it ending. Why couldn’t I just “ride the wave.“?
As I sit here listening to Barbra Streisand sing a duet with Don Johnson (“Till I loved You”, it is like eating filet mignon and potato chips, not a bad combination but way outta place. I smile because for a little bit of risk (this being subjective and gaged by my perspective as well), I might have been clueless and blissfully happy. On the other hand, I may have met with my own self-inflicted destruction. This condensed piece took years for me to publish. I suppose I am finally done with all the feelings attached to the experience. In his very words, “C’est La Vie”.
hafacenturyncounting 