I've spent the last three nights, talking to my ex, Sonny. Not trying to kindle old flames or even embers, I am careful what I say. A part of me would run back to familiar ground in a heart beat. The wiser part of me knows that it's the dumbest thing I could ever do. Thank God, I am full of more wisdom than stupidity these days.
Twenty some years ago, I watched as Sonny bent straight over to tie his boots, not bending his knees, just straight down and my eyes fell on his muscular backside. A few minutes later, my eyes fell on "The Package" and I had to take this Stallion for a ride. I spent upwards of 19 years in that "Sold" stance, in my mind. He took my breath away when I looked at him sometimes. Other times, he was the ugliest Son of a Bitch, I'd ever met. I suppose his looks didn't change. It was a culmination of his and my demeanor that could or would cause it to change. I think he felt the same way about me. Sometimes he really loved me and other times, he would prove that he hated me.
He really didn't want to talk about the physical fights we had. But it was good for me, to know he remembered the injury that I caused him too. I didn't want him to feel he escaped "Scot Free." He would stop short of saying, "Well, but when you shot me..." we danced around it. Is it hardcore passion or insanity or both to be with a person, come back to a person, take a person back, after you've shot them and it was not an accident? That was January 1986, we'd been together, a hot 2+ years, when they took him away,dieing from a point blank, rifle shot in the stomach. I think we loved like nobody's business and hated just the same.
I slept with my make-up on, so he could not look over and see me for who I really was. I kept up appearances, kept my weight down. I brushed and cut his hair and gave him pedicures. I plucked and picked, preening like a good primate. I fought for his love, literally, with him and the bitches that taunted me. Why?
We were both addicted to Heroin. Does that give us common ground or the horrendous multitude of indignities we suffered together, in the name of addiction? I found myself, talking and talking and rehashing things. I was looking for validation of some sort? Did you not love me? Why did we fight?
I finally said to him, what his masculinity would not allow him to say. It was something that took me many, many years and a Prison sentence to figure out,
"For every single thing that you were attracted to me for, you hated me with equal intention." He agreed and this was huge!
I was ballsy and he loved it and he respected my ability to step up, no fear and just do it. At the same time, he wanted some timid little ballerina at home.
I was built like a "brick shit house," his words. He loved that I was strong and sturdy except when I didn't just drop in a fight with him. I knew when to be a lady, always have but we fought like two men and he wanted a delicate, quiet, soft spoken woman. I was not that, by any means. Although, I did try. My answer to that was to shut up completely and it drove him crazy.
I was intelligent and knew when I was being snow balled. He would have much preferred a woman that was seen and not heard, never questioned anything and just went along for the ride. I bucked the system, he even called me "Buck." Actually, he called me "Buck Moe."
He admitted for the first time, that it was not me but him. He told me, that he didn't realize what he had, a good woman, who'd go to hell and back to bring him the fire. His ego aside, he told me that he didn't know what to think when I cracked a bottle over a guys head that he wouldn't have tangled with. Or put a knife to a guys throat that no one dare do that to. I intimidated him and he set about proving who was bigger and badder, who could be uglier and inflict the most pain. Who could put who, in their respective place.
I was a contradiction in terms and I still am. I realize that I can never be what he wants me to be. I also realize that I am who I am and I should not have to change that to fluff another man's ego or build his esteem. I will not change who I am, ever again. It took me so many years and a lot of hardship to arrive at this person. I will speak my mind and say what needs to be said. I will never cower in a corner and bite my tongue, it is scarred from biting it and is just now healing.
If I have to spend the rest of my life alone, I will before I will ever work so hard at pleasing a man, that I loose my own identity along the way.
He wants me back. Don't you know, at 47,and I'll be 48 in February, a girl doesn't have too many chances at love any more, does she? Maybe, he's changed, just as I have. Maybe, he's wiser in his old age and just wants to co-exist?
Maybe, when hell freezes over.
OLD LOVE / ERIC CLAPTON
To you Sonny!!