My Choices

By the way, I laughed out loud at the term "fuckbuddy auditions". I can just hear you laying there screaming, "NEXT!"


I don't think you intended that to be offensive. Most days I can laugh at that mental image, too.

But some days I can't ignore the soul searching that brought me to this place;

the physical pain that pushed me to the edge of my sanity;

the mental pain that was sending me over that edge without a parachute;

the emotional turmoil that I encountered when I decided to go against every single precept inbedded in me by a wealth of instruction. There were endless years of indoctrination by a string of teased, perfumed, stockinged, suit-and-tied, girdled and polyestered influences that stretch farther than my tear-filled eyes can see.

I can't ignore the fact that my choices have led me here, yet I also cannot look back over those choices and see any alternatives that would have brought me to a more satisfactory conclusion.

I can't ignore the fact that the God that has been tutored into my soul has chosen to refuse the only request I ever made of Him. I can't ignore the fact that I see evidence all around me of Revelation's predictions coming to fruition, yet I understand too clearly the reasons behind the choices the creation has made – the Goddess draws, and the lure is peaceful to me. She will not ask that I give up my Father, She truly asks nothing of me. But I feel compelled to acknowledge Her existence, mainly because I am filled with wonder at the signs I see indicating She has been there all along.

I don't like the situation that brought me to this choice I've made. I feel certain some days that it will be my final choice, that I will never be offered an option of love and companionship and somehow my choice of sexual healing will be the reason I am not offered the other. But when I sift through my choices – mind-numbing anti-depressants or full bipolar mood swings and amazing mental clarity? Pain clinic injections and possible surgery or increased sexual activity and the occasional unprescribed narcotic? Being alone forever or having a few new casual friends who can give me the physical activity that strengthens my body and relieves my mind? Hiding in my shell of anger and sarcasm or allowing a few pictures of myself to appear on the internet, where I not only see the beauty but can enjoy the appreciation of others? I look at these choices, and I must admit that I would repeat the same decisions.

Your flippant humor has long been an attraction for me, but it's also caused me pain. I have an understanding of you that you in turn acknowledge and deny - whatever best suits your current argument, whatever makes your point du jour. But I KNOW. Despite your protestations to the contrary, I know I understand you sometimes. And I know you understand me, when you choose to listen. I know my words strike a chord within you, can coax your emotions to swirl and change, to eddy about you like waves around your feet. And that's why I continue to exchange words with you. Your sporadic acknowledgement feeds my soul. And much like the sex that I've been enjoying – I'll take it where I can get it at this point;

because the alternative of silence, like the alternative of abstinence, is too much to bear.