“She was at that crucial age when a women begins to regret having stayed faithful to a husband she never really loved, when the glowing sunset colors of her beauty offer her one last, urgent choice between maternal and feminine love. At such a moment a life that seemed to have chosen its course long ago is questioned once again, for the last time the magic compass needle of the will hovers between final resignation and the hope of erotic experience.” ~Stefan Zweig~When you're a young, married twenty-something woman, and your life stretches out before you, it doesn't dawn on you that you may become single later. That the life you chose won't be yours anymore. That the person you think you'll share the rest of your life with was the wrong person in so many ways...
I wasn't always the best wife. I admit that. But, he wasn't the best husband. That's no excuse. I had every opportunity to leave and find something better when I was much younger. I should have. I resented my husband for leaving me alone all the time, always putting me on the very back burner to simmer in my own reservations about our relationship. I didn't like him as a person. That should have been my first clue. I ended our union with absolutely no respect for him. He hurt me in ways that no husband should ever hurt a wife. The constant infidelity. The daily belittling remarks. Blaming me for his every failure and sabotaging my dawning successes. The absolute control with which he ran my life. The humiliations, some public...mostly private. The drinking. The disappearing acts. And for not supporting me in such ways a husband should. Emotionally. Mentally.
Some of that I could say is my fault. In how I chose to behave toward him. But he also chose how to behave toward me. So, I can't take all the blame. I will say that the longer we were married the easier it became not to care. The longer we were married, it became easier to stray farther away from who I really was and lower myself to his level. I drank more. I stopped caring about my appearance. I did things I wasn't proud of. It also became easier to forget my own needs, wants or desires. Most mothers will tell you that they put their own needs last. But I got so bad that I forgot what it is I actually liked. I couldn't even make a meal without asking him if that's what HE wanted. I was constantly afraid of his displeasure. I spent my life walking on eggshells. Pathetic.
At the dawn of my 39th birthday, after approximately three years of being alone without a husband and raising three children on my own, I have found myself coming to some conclusions about myself, my own eroticism, romantic love and how the choices that I make now are not determined by my heart, but my head. I've thought long and hard about it. It's been on my mind a lot, as you can tell by my blog posts. For me, it's all about family. My short people. Love I have. Romance? Not so much. Romantic love? I give up.
I've determined that this will be the last post I make about this particular subject.
Why? Because it's counterproductive to think about something I have no hope of actually understanding, accepting or finding for myself. I know I'll get a lot of flack for saying so, and people will encourage me not to give up hope, that I really can find it, that I've got too much love to share not to share it with someone. But I really don't want to try. I have no confidence that I will find what I need in any man. I also believe I'm far too much myself for any one to handle.
I remember during the divorce, I created a list for myself of the things I would accept and not accept in my life, and I remember creating a list of those things I would accept in a potential partner. I've found a lot of those things in different men I've become involved with, but there is always something...unavailability being the largest one. Apparently, I'm not the only one who has had bad experiences with previous partners. And I'm not the only one who has obligations to others or self, and reservations about finding a romantic and spiritual match for ourselves.
Men don't typically like strong women. That's not true. Some men really do. But I'm not just strong. I can be intimidating. Obstinate. Immovable. As a friend of mine has carefully and lovingly described my attitude toward relationships and men, I have no gray areas. It's clearly black and white for me. That's hard for men to swallow. I have a lot of expectations, and a lot of rules since I've been a single mom. Those are hard too.
I'll never subject my children to anyone that I don't feel is the most conscientious person, one who firmly who lives by values and morals about family that I share. Someone who will respect my need to provide my children with the best upbringing I possibly can for them. Someone they can respect, count on and love as well. Someone they see that respects me. All of me. Someone that I can respect and care for.
As far as the finding an "erotic experience" I am so over that. The things that I found in myself again after the Dreaded Ex and I split, are the things that people are drawn to. The positivity, the good nature, my natural exuberance and affectionate nature. I tease, good naturedly. And as the Dreaded Ex so aptly described me in a moment of clarity, I can be walking sensuality...*chuckle* ME. Walking sensuality. It's laughable because I don't think of myself that way. But he may have had something there...
If I wanted to have an "erotic" experience...one that borders on romantic, and just have it be physical, I could. Easily. I just don't want to. I'm not built for casual, "disposable relationships". I am tired of being looked at as an object by men. Powerful. Intoxicating. Addicting. An object of obsession. Those are descriptions I've heard about myself over the past few years. Me... I'm still laughing! Bless their sweet infatuated selves...
I can't say that my experiences haven't been good for me. It was amusing to be thought of as someone to be desired. For someone like me, who has never had any illusions about who I was and wasn't, I always thought that I was just a plain, ordinary girl. Just like everyone else, wanting to be loved and accepted. Quirks, control issues, freakiness and all.
Eroticism is something that doesn't have to be shameful.We are all erotic creatures. Like the photos I allowed myself to sit for. They were beautifully done, tasteful. Classic. Never in a million years would I have thought that I could do that. Never would I have thought that I would look at my battle scarred body and see beauty in all the imperfections, the stretch marks, the breasts that nourished three children, the softness that I've acquired by living as the most innocently erotic of all figures. The mother.
“Eroticism is first and foremost a thirst for otherness. And the supernatural is the supreme otherness. This is perhaps the most noble aim of poetry, to attach ourselves to the world around us, to turn desire into love, to embrace, finally what always evades us, what is beyond, but what is always there – the unspoken, the spirit, the soul.” ~Octavio Paz~
Ironically, the key to my own happiness has lived in myself. In my acceptance of myself. Wholly. Good and not so good. To share my joy, my love of life, my love and loyalty of family. To share the gifts I have without qualm, without condition. To share my experiences. Good and not so good. I've heard from quite a few people that the things I write about and share help people. That's nice to hear. My confusion, my epiphanies, my heartache and heartbreak. They're not unique to me. That's very comforting.
The erotic experiences I'll have will have to be on the more sensual side. The things I'll allow myself will be more of the mind and spirit; and less of the heart. What do I mean? Fall in love with life. My passions. My work. And possibly myself.
Therein lies my true erotic nature. Embracing everything about me that makes me a sensual, spiritual being. Loving of everyone, doing what I do best-making others feel good about themselves. Entertaining the ideas and things that make me happiest. Because all I've ever hoped for was a modicum of happiness and peace with who I am. That's the thing that's evaded me my whole life. My aim is to be free. Unencumbered of guilt and shame. Removing of sin from my being. And putting no conditions on the love I have.
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