LJ Idol Season 5 Week 7 - Love Remembers
o/` "You can't forget what love was wearing
When it walked out your front door
Where you fell down to your knees
And can't forget the kind of suitcase
That was packed out on the sidewalk
While you cried there beggin' please
But love remembers
"You can lie and tell yourself
You're over it and someone else will take love's place
And this is for the best
You can lie in that bed
In a stranger's arms reachin' for comfort
Close your eyes and still get no rest " o/`
----- "Love Remembers" performed by Craig Morgan
Love --- the kind of fairytale love in which you live happily ever after --- isn't something for which I held out much hope.
Growing up, I was both the fat kid and the gal all the guys treated like a sister...but didn't want to date. At the grand old age of twenty, in that small rural farming community, I was considered a spinster and as such expected to move in with my mother so that I could take care of her in her dotage. The marriage offer, when it came, seemed a miracle. For $2000 and a side of beef each season, my mother agreed to allow me to wed my first husband. His family, in return, got what essentially amounted to an extra ranch hand they didn't have to feed.
This marriage ended five years later when, in a fit of rage, he broke open my skull in the emergency room. It took three deputies and two EMTs to drag him off of me but because of his family's influence there were no charges filed.
During my recovery I had the chance (the first I'd ever been given in my life) to explore my own needs, hopes, and desires outside the strangling social context of a gossipy small town. I moved to a somewhat larger city, took a few college classes, and socialized in the coffee shops. One of the on-campus groups was the local GLBT alliance. Through interacting with its members, reading suggested literature, and doing research I discovered something new about myself: I was bisexual with a strong preference for females. It put the failure of my first marriage in perspective. I had hope, then, of finding that fairytale relationship even if it wasn't with a man.
I dated off and on but there was always something wrong with the women. Did I have 'sucker' written on my back or something? The first ended when I found out that she herself didn't have a stable living situation or job and that her married roommates didn't know I would be joining her. The second turned out to be not a thirty year old woman but a nineteen year old male runaway who claimed to be transgendered. That ended when s/he figured out s/he couldn't wheedle any more money out of my family.
They say the third time is a charm, and it was. The man I would end up marrying was a tall, gangly creature with long, beautiful hands and thick curly eyelashes. His general behavior and energies tended to come off as more feminine than masculine, which is probably why I fell so hard for him. Given an absolutely level playing field (personalities and heart attachments aside) my ideal forever mate would have been a female. Though I can admire the male body as a wonderful work of biological art, it does not appeal to me sexually. My husband remains an anomaly in that respect as he is the only male I have ever found sexually attractive.
We have a wonderful life together; he devotes himself to me and lives only to fulfill my every desire as he can. It's an unequal partnership; I was already sick when we met but I wasn't an invalid and was still capable of doing most of the household chores. Now, it's a rare day when I have the energy to do anything but basic pick-up to keep the house from becoming a garbage heap. I can't wash his clothes or put away the dishes, but he still loves me. My needs are simple: a roof over my head, food on the table, a quiet place to spend the rest of my days where I'm loved and cared for. He provides all of that.
Yet we both recognized something to be missing. We talked and I came to realize that both of us were polyamorous (NOT the same as swinging, please do not even go there!). Our boundaries matched perfectly; he understood I was interested only in finding a woman to share our lives with and he was comfortable with that arrangement as long as it didn't involve a male partner as well. We essentially put ourselves back out on the dating market.
It was an unqualified disaster. Those we met fell into two basic categories: baby mamas who wanted a baby daddy to support them and would happily edge out the original female partner if that's what it took; and those who were jobless, 'looking for a change', or seeking to room with other but not willing to make any kind of contribution or commitment. Still others would happily have had a relationship with me but didn't like the idea of a man being involved.
Sometimes you're so busy looking and hoping that you miss what you've been wanting because it's right under your nose the whole time.
One summer, the entire spirituality track for my favorite science fiction convention except myself quit. In a panic I called up Dorie*, a fellow English major and amateur folklorist, and asked her to help me with the panels. We had only six weeks to gather all the information we needed, get it into a usable format, and present it. To save on room costs, we also decided to share a room. I'd never met her in person before but we'd been talking via IM, e-mail, and journal comments for years.
It was love at first sight. Through the door walked a little Cajun gal with a thick accent who barely came up to my shoulder. She and my husband began chatting, getting to know one another, while I was still mutely staring. I loved everything about her --- her personality, her accent, the little gestures she used when she talked, and the way she moved. Though I couldn't understand either of them when they were talking, I could have listened for hours. She told me all kinds of stories about the bayous, about New Orleans culture, about the people and the animals who lived there. Really, she could have been reciting the alphabet and I'd have listened just as raptly.
Reality check. None of the other relationships had panned out so I didn't hope for this one to be any different. Knowing my luck, she was probably straight or wanting a one night stand with my husband.
We roomed together for years as the co-leaders for the spirituality track. I'd catch myself stealing glances at her as she was getting undressed at night and then quickly avert my eyes before I got caught. The level of formality fluctuated as we got more familiar with one another. I stopped dressing in the bathroom after my shower (a hot, wet, sticky affair I was only too glad to dispose of) and she dropped sleeping in her clothes in favor of pajamas. The husband went from a tee shirt and underwear to boxers only. Once, I saw a crop in her suitcase meant for bondage and I wondered but hadn't the courage to ask.
It might have gone on forever like that if it hadn't been for an incident last year. That year, she didn't room with us. She stayed with someone else and I only saw her at the panels. It broke my heart and I thought I'd lost her forever. I gave up all hope on ever having a female lover --- of having her --- and simply hoped that when Dorie did remember the friendship, there would still be a friendship there. I put away my books about polyamory, bisexuality, and lesbianism. After all, I'd found true love once. I really shouldn't hope for it to manifest again.
Who said there's no such thing as second chances?
We did patch things up and the event which almost tore us apart made us closer. One evening, chatting with me, Dorie blurted out that she loved me and my husband and hadn't known how we would feel about it. What? She loved me? She wanted to be with not only me but with my first beloved as well?
Dorie's part of my family now. I plan on taking her home and introducing her both to the lands in which I grew up and to my mother, just as I did my husband. She's my co-wife, my confidante, my fiery little Cajun gal, my lover. Where once I barely dared to hope I'd find love once, I've now found it twice.
*Dorie is obviously not her real name. Because it would greatly disturb mutual friends who don't understand bisexuality, lesbianism, or polyamory we are currently keeping a low profile.
This entry has been written for season five of therealljidol. If you liked it, please consider voting for me when the polls go up. I'll post a link and a reminder later.
When it walked out your front door
Where you fell down to your knees
And can't forget the kind of suitcase
That was packed out on the sidewalk
While you cried there beggin' please
But love remembers
"You can lie and tell yourself
You're over it and someone else will take love's place
And this is for the best
You can lie in that bed
In a stranger's arms reachin' for comfort
Close your eyes and still get no rest " o/`
----- "Love Remembers" performed by Craig Morgan
Love --- the kind of fairytale love in which you live happily ever after --- isn't something for which I held out much hope.
Growing up, I was both the fat kid and the gal all the guys treated like a sister...but didn't want to date. At the grand old age of twenty, in that small rural farming community, I was considered a spinster and as such expected to move in with my mother so that I could take care of her in her dotage. The marriage offer, when it came, seemed a miracle. For $2000 and a side of beef each season, my mother agreed to allow me to wed my first husband. His family, in return, got what essentially amounted to an extra ranch hand they didn't have to feed.
This marriage ended five years later when, in a fit of rage, he broke open my skull in the emergency room. It took three deputies and two EMTs to drag him off of me but because of his family's influence there were no charges filed.
During my recovery I had the chance (the first I'd ever been given in my life) to explore my own needs, hopes, and desires outside the strangling social context of a gossipy small town. I moved to a somewhat larger city, took a few college classes, and socialized in the coffee shops. One of the on-campus groups was the local GLBT alliance. Through interacting with its members, reading suggested literature, and doing research I discovered something new about myself: I was bisexual with a strong preference for females. It put the failure of my first marriage in perspective. I had hope, then, of finding that fairytale relationship even if it wasn't with a man.
I dated off and on but there was always something wrong with the women. Did I have 'sucker' written on my back or something? The first ended when I found out that she herself didn't have a stable living situation or job and that her married roommates didn't know I would be joining her. The second turned out to be not a thirty year old woman but a nineteen year old male runaway who claimed to be transgendered. That ended when s/he figured out s/he couldn't wheedle any more money out of my family.
They say the third time is a charm, and it was. The man I would end up marrying was a tall, gangly creature with long, beautiful hands and thick curly eyelashes. His general behavior and energies tended to come off as more feminine than masculine, which is probably why I fell so hard for him. Given an absolutely level playing field (personalities and heart attachments aside) my ideal forever mate would have been a female. Though I can admire the male body as a wonderful work of biological art, it does not appeal to me sexually. My husband remains an anomaly in that respect as he is the only male I have ever found sexually attractive.
We have a wonderful life together; he devotes himself to me and lives only to fulfill my every desire as he can. It's an unequal partnership; I was already sick when we met but I wasn't an invalid and was still capable of doing most of the household chores. Now, it's a rare day when I have the energy to do anything but basic pick-up to keep the house from becoming a garbage heap. I can't wash his clothes or put away the dishes, but he still loves me. My needs are simple: a roof over my head, food on the table, a quiet place to spend the rest of my days where I'm loved and cared for. He provides all of that.
Yet we both recognized something to be missing. We talked and I came to realize that both of us were polyamorous (NOT the same as swinging, please do not even go there!). Our boundaries matched perfectly; he understood I was interested only in finding a woman to share our lives with and he was comfortable with that arrangement as long as it didn't involve a male partner as well. We essentially put ourselves back out on the dating market.
It was an unqualified disaster. Those we met fell into two basic categories: baby mamas who wanted a baby daddy to support them and would happily edge out the original female partner if that's what it took; and those who were jobless, 'looking for a change', or seeking to room with other but not willing to make any kind of contribution or commitment. Still others would happily have had a relationship with me but didn't like the idea of a man being involved.
Sometimes you're so busy looking and hoping that you miss what you've been wanting because it's right under your nose the whole time.
One summer, the entire spirituality track for my favorite science fiction convention except myself quit. In a panic I called up Dorie*, a fellow English major and amateur folklorist, and asked her to help me with the panels. We had only six weeks to gather all the information we needed, get it into a usable format, and present it. To save on room costs, we also decided to share a room. I'd never met her in person before but we'd been talking via IM, e-mail, and journal comments for years.
It was love at first sight. Through the door walked a little Cajun gal with a thick accent who barely came up to my shoulder. She and my husband began chatting, getting to know one another, while I was still mutely staring. I loved everything about her --- her personality, her accent, the little gestures she used when she talked, and the way she moved. Though I couldn't understand either of them when they were talking, I could have listened for hours. She told me all kinds of stories about the bayous, about New Orleans culture, about the people and the animals who lived there. Really, she could have been reciting the alphabet and I'd have listened just as raptly.
Reality check. None of the other relationships had panned out so I didn't hope for this one to be any different. Knowing my luck, she was probably straight or wanting a one night stand with my husband.
We roomed together for years as the co-leaders for the spirituality track. I'd catch myself stealing glances at her as she was getting undressed at night and then quickly avert my eyes before I got caught. The level of formality fluctuated as we got more familiar with one another. I stopped dressing in the bathroom after my shower (a hot, wet, sticky affair I was only too glad to dispose of) and she dropped sleeping in her clothes in favor of pajamas. The husband went from a tee shirt and underwear to boxers only. Once, I saw a crop in her suitcase meant for bondage and I wondered but hadn't the courage to ask.
It might have gone on forever like that if it hadn't been for an incident last year. That year, she didn't room with us. She stayed with someone else and I only saw her at the panels. It broke my heart and I thought I'd lost her forever. I gave up all hope on ever having a female lover --- of having her --- and simply hoped that when Dorie did remember the friendship, there would still be a friendship there. I put away my books about polyamory, bisexuality, and lesbianism. After all, I'd found true love once. I really shouldn't hope for it to manifest again.
Who said there's no such thing as second chances?
We did patch things up and the event which almost tore us apart made us closer. One evening, chatting with me, Dorie blurted out that she loved me and my husband and hadn't known how we would feel about it. What? She loved me? She wanted to be with not only me but with my first beloved as well?
Dorie's part of my family now. I plan on taking her home and introducing her both to the lands in which I grew up and to my mother, just as I did my husband. She's my co-wife, my confidante, my fiery little Cajun gal, my lover. Where once I barely dared to hope I'd find love once, I've now found it twice.
*Dorie is obviously not her real name. Because it would greatly disturb mutual friends who don't understand bisexuality, lesbianism, or polyamory we are currently keeping a low profile.
This entry has been written for season five of therealljidol. If you liked it, please consider voting for me when the polls go up. I'll post a link and a reminder later.