Lay Your Armor Down

“Don't wait
The road is now a sudden sea
And suddenly, you're deep enough
To lay your armor down…” --DC

I’ve hesitated terribly to write about him. Because despite all of the things I do not know about him, I do know that he may be one of the first to happen upon this. But then I’m compelled by the kind of overwhelming GIRLNESS, that all of the men in my life claim imbues me. And anyway, not writing it would be contrary to one of the primary things that I believe him to be fond of. Either way, I can only know in its failure if it was wrong. And then if it was, then I am sorry. (Truly.) It occurs to me that Paul Auster was correct when he said, “No one wants to be part of a fiction, and even less so if that fiction is real.” And this, in my opinion, is as real as my fiction ever has become. But for that reason alone, I can’t help but write it down.

I’ve heard my whole life that when you least expect it, a most perfect-for-you person will appear suddenly out of nowhere and sweep you off your feet. This is the fairy tale. This is the crank on which we raise our little girls. Supposedly, the following then goes something like this: blind love, happiness, abandonment of reason, self-sacrifice, heartbreak, loneliness. (Either loneliness alone, or together.) That is the pattern we have watched all our lives, and the one that every couple vows that they will shatter. That is the pattern of love as I’ve seen it. And despite all the criticism of my observations, I’ve yet to be proven otherwise. It isn’t sad, I’m not whining, that’s just the way that it is.

As all of you who know me know, I have been resistant to the cycle all along. Fiercely independent or just fucking stubborn, the idea of loneliness together, or sacrifice for others has never really appealed to me. It isn’t to say it doesn’t work for some people. It’s never been something I was interested in trying. So the wall I’ve been working on for the past- oh, decade- has become rather sturdy. Resistant to the urgings of family, friends, and especially the poor guys who have tried in vain to date me. (“What’re you, a fucking cyborg?” Is still my favorite.)

And then he appeared, from somewhere. And all those years of defensive training, I suddenly can’t remember what I was defending against. It could be heart break, and he sees it in my eyes. “You don’t trust me, entirely,” he said. “I wish you would.” And I don’t, he’s right. But before I could say anything, he laughed, because I don’t think he trusts me either. And I like that. It makes me feel less helpless.

And every time I worry about abandoning my power, he gives it to me willingly, with few words, or even a gesture, that I didn’t have to fight for. And I remember how it was before him.

And when I’m trying not to miss him, and I hope he misses me, suddenly, somehow, there he is. And I didn’t have to ask. And I don’t have to apologize for wanting him around.

And when I am lying to myself, staring, anywhere but at his eyes, because in moments it all scares me absolutely to death, he says the most perfect, flippant thing. And I’m laughing. And I forget why I was afraid.

And it all might end tomorrow, if it’s even really begun. And that would be OK. Because my wall is still in place, for when I need it. For now though, for the first time, I don’t want to fight at all.

And in an effort, to spare you all some time and energy… YES, I know you told me so.