The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

human behaviour

Slept in this morning and woke to the sound of the wee one playing with M. They are playmates, much moreso than she and I are. She and I are best friends, mutual admirers, hand-holding, Gilmore Girl watching soulmates. She and he are rough-housing, sarcasm-filled, slightly winded ruffians. He's the one she goes to with questions, because it's a way of drawing him in, of learning something valuable. She comes to me when she needs a hug, when she's overflowing with love and happiness, when she's hungry. Both of us are okay with the structure of things, because she is wanting for nothing right now. Two parents who are here to adore her. What more could a kid want?

So, I woke to the sound of this and immediately felt guilty for being in my bed. It was past eight, I should likely have been up, until I questionned myself why. Are you a bad person if you stay in bed past the crow of the cock? I've never been a morning person, not in my entire life. I remember spending whole summers in my early teen years, watching a tiny black and white television in my bedroom until the wee hours of the morning, or reading some forgettable pubescent book until I came to the final sentence, and never once did I plan for waking at sunrise. I like to be awake at night. I suppose it's because there are no expectations then, no place to be. I am myself, I am surrounded by what I love and need. I like the nightlife.

Last night, I nervously worked up the gumption to email a woman I know casually through the wee one's class. A mother of a young boy, A.M. is a very quiet, but sunny-faced woman whom I usually find myself having small conversations with. She is timid looking, but there's a kindness in her that is visible without searching too deeply. I've been looking for someone to share girl talk with, because my friends live far away and often we forget that a phone is within arm's length. I miss having someone to chat with about silly things, which is probably why I've been journalling so much. M. is great for conversation, but he's not big on meaningless conversation. He wants the eye contact, the depth, the revelations and the wisdom. Sometimes I just want to gossip about things like how Angelina is wearing some pretty unflattering gowns lately, or how a mashed banana is a great way of exfoliating your skin. I haven't considered yet whether or not she's into writing or books or movies. It's too early to get specific. What I want, essentially, is someone to meet for coffee with, someone I don't have to worry about impressing. I want someone nice in my life whom I can call with good news on occasion.

I composed a short, hopefully 'breezy' email. I tried to explain why I haven't signed up for that computer course she and I discussed (I was afraid if I got a job I'd have to drop out), but that I am always available for some coffee or tea and conversation if she's available. I kept it simple, and I left the next step in her hands, something about 'let me know if and when you're free!'. And yes, I used an exclamation point. I don't speak in them, so I though I might as well type one in for effect. I then squeezed my eyes shut as I hit 'send', and I went to bed and pretended I hadn't done it.

To the 'normal' person, this is not a very big deal at all, but I am proud/ashamed to admit that socially, I've never been particularly normal. I am the person who waits for you to make the first move, because I am shy, painfully so, and I am still blistered from adolescent rejection. I have friends, yes, and I was the favourite manager at my old job, but the old friendships took time to marinate, and at work I was the one with authority, so I lived the role and rejected my shyness. Now, though, I am a thirty-something looking to find a married, kind female. I want a friend I can go shopping with, someone I can share cheesecake with in the middle of the day when no one is around. A relationship without responsibility or sex. A kindred spirit to depend on when I need someone to vent to who hasn't heard it all before. And I want to return the favour.

So far, no response, but I'm hopeful. Of course, if she outright rejects me, it will make for some uncomfortable morning drop-offs at the school, but I don't think there's much danger of that. She is always sweet and chatty. Maybe I'm worried about nothing.

What I don't have in my life is a friend who loves books, film and poetry like I do. I wonder what it's like to spend time with someone who is equally enthused about losing whole afternoons in book stores, or just sitting in a backyard on a summer day reading, chatting or dreaming. I want someone who will get me involved in something, like a book club or a yoga class. I need that person to be the bridge of comfort to a world I've been dreaming of visiting. I have been inside so long that I will need a helpful hand to lead me out. I'm not ashamed to admit that.

Yesterday, I asked M. to go with me for coffee. I had just dropped off a resume at one of the local hospitals for a ward clerk position (the woman didn't seem particularly impressed with me and I was instantly pessimistic), and I asked him if he wanted to leave his work for a bit and actually be 'out' with me. He hesitated before obliging, but we ended up at a Starbucks (I had a coupon for a free beverage), and we sat and talked for about two hours, maybe slightly less. I sipped on my 'Signature' hot chocolate, even though it had whipped cream which I'd specifically said I didn't want, and he sipped on his coffee, and we had an actual conversation that had nothing to do with how much we love our offspring, or how the plumber still hasn't called us back. He tried to hold my gaze with his eyes, because I'm the sort who looks all over instead of directly into them, and I was stunned by how blue his eyes are, particularly when the sunlight hits them. He smiled when he saw how hard it was for me to keep the connection, despite six years of loving him and making an actual person with him. Eye contact is one of the more difficult things for me to do. Timid, little flower.

I told him how frightened I am about the future, how stressed I've been about the job situation. I said that it feels good to be 'trying' for once, but that I'm worried I'll always have to do something I don't want to do. It won't help, I said, to mention the past year in which I actually had some money and opportunity. I know it, but at the time, it didn't seem right. Now, I said, I'm trying, and I'm hoping, and I'm moving. He told me that I have a tendency to think I'm all alone in this, that he can help if I would only ask him, but I said I couldn't put it on him, all my hangups and fears. Plus, I knew he couldn't afford it. We're a couple, he said matter-of-factly. I know, I smiled, not sure if I actually did. I am terrified of being an anxious, depressed semi-lunatic once more, just as I was the last time I returned to work after some time off, and he said it made no sense to worry about this yet. There is no job at the moment. I'm projecting, as is my usual habit.

Mother Nature didn't design us to be weak, he said before sipping from his cup. We are each created with the intention for survival. We are expected to try. Too many people allow themselves to be weak without realizing they're not supposed to be. It's as though they are rejecting Mother Nature in favour of what? Being sad? Being depressed? We are also designed to feel, but our intelligence should be enough for us to know what's real and what isn't. He smiled as though this has been common knowledge forever and I remained silent. Cowering from life is like backhanding Mother Nature. We're supposed to survive until age takes it away.

Oh.

I guess this conversation is what compelled me to send an email to A.M. It is what has me wondering if I should go to that information session at the local employment office today. I talk about how much I hate feeling weak and the only strength in me is my death-grip on being miserable. Fancy that. He's smart, is my M. It annoys me and makes me wonder what he ever saw in me.

I need to keep moving.