Update (12/7/2016): Forgive this very lazy addendum to the last night (how “last” remains to be seen – I enjoy being in the cross hairs of his scope and being pursued 😉 ) I spent with my cowboy. For now, I have to write him off since my Crohn’s hit me with a double whammy: I got sick over Thanksgiving due to overly rich food, Chinese style, and was rolling downhill kinda slow until the acceleration at his place. I pride myself on being self sufficient, having a pretty frigging high pain tolerance and needing no one’s assistance when I succumb to any/all of my chronic illnesses, all the while keeping a picture of managed health. I forget how bad my situation was back in 2006 when my health has been stabilized these past 3-4 years but holy hell, my cowboy had to drive me in my car home (instead of the ER he was adamant on) and the entire time I’m doing my best not to scream with every bump, pot hole, hard brake or pumped gas pedal but some escape anyway. The cold sweat beading on my head, constant swearing (I’d been watching my potty mouth cause I could see him wince when I was a bit too happily raging about whatever topic) and agony in every breath scared him. I talk to myself in a berating manner to get myself calm and to get through every crashing wave of pain but I’m sure most of his fear came from the image of blood left on his bed and my shrunken state…
I alluded to the most pressing point of our break-up and thought I’d elaborate now that I can sit up without crying though I can’t promise this will be neat and pretty. It’s interesting how long it takes for the fine details, habits and subtle clues of a person’s mental/emotional intelligence and state-of-being to reveal themselves. I’ve been told I’m very perceptive and I tend to lock in quickly on someone’s pain, sadness and shortcomings: usually by the third or fourth date I can tell what makes up a person. I had hoped my Texan’s first bad break-up (being that his first love cheated on him with his best friend) had not completely fucked him over but what took me for a shock was the bi-curiosity coming from a very conservative good-ole boy. Call me a hypocrite but I won’t date bisexual guys: the average heterosexual guy will fuck anything with a warm pulse and fatty tissue in the right places but that comes with the caveat of needing permission from the fickle owner of the pulse. Gay men are the same but adding the understanding of the same impulsive instinct to fuck and to fuck every type that catches their fancy, you get shameless whores (though that’s a generality). Now, my cowboy hasn’t moved in the direction of anyone non-female and I’d be happy to hold his hand and guide him through the scary stages of something new and something he’s not 100% sure of but I can’t stay for the full ride, ya know? He could discover that a male partner is a no-go and I could help him move beyond the emotional freeze/safe distance he’s kept from all partners for 13-14 years; however, my instincts tell me it would be a project not worth my while.
Going forward, I know I’m going to miss his cornflower blue eyes, the way my name sounds coming from his Southern lips, the way he called me “baby” in an endearing and protective manner and the hilarity of city slang spoken with a Southern drawl. I’ll miss the security of his arms, his quiet strength that allowed me to be vulnerable without fear of reprisal/exposure, how he taught me to see me for me without the filter of my ex and to see my ex from the vast distance/pov of a stranger. It’s going to be tough to find someone with the same knack for naming things (e.g. he called himself fat-skinny… with a straight face and a wink, tehehe) and who will not only let me ramble, but will be listening and remembering. Hard to find someone who understands my need for isolation is momentary and is separate from any/my emotional connections to others. Finally, that it’s true: everything in and from Texas is bigger!
I’m lying down next to my 6’3″ man: safely cradled between his body and the backboard. He has yet to be informed about my permanent departure as his side saddle partner. I need more than the financial security, the fun sex and charming/educational dates. I can tell there’s an emotionally broken piece residing in him and I don’t want to play the part of being the missing puzzle piece or the glue that holds it together. I want the strong, whole man I am owed and I refuse to waste another seven years to find that all my time and best effort was for naught. I’m long overdue for better.
Here’s to the ways my Texan mended my heart and soul and come what may!