Sumitted by Delaine Moore
A close male friend of mine, one whose opinion I value greatly, keeps telling me: Gypsy (his nickname for me), you are so afraid to fall in love. You’ve built walls to protect yourself and keep men out, but you must be careful not to become your own prisoner.
Immediately I get angry at him. Don’t talk to me about fear, I say. You have no idea how much strength and courage I’ve had to summon.
I’m just living my life on my own terms, I’ve told him. Gone is that foolish girl who believed in fairytales.
But he has said this to me so many times over the past few months, I’m starting to see the truth in it…
(sigh) Why is that so hard for me to admit?
I don’t live in the past. I’ve offered and felt my forgiveness’s. I’ve really moved forward these past couple of years since my divorce. Immensely. Bravely.
And I have dated. And I’ve taken lovers. I’ve done what I needed to do to survive AND to satisfy myself physically, emotionally and spiritually.
Yes, in a way, I guess I’ve kind of ‘used’ men. Not maliciously. Not with any ill-motives. Just…cautiously. Protectively. And sometimes – in the sex department – aggressively. I shouldn’t have to justify that, right?
I just haven’t met anyone who really interests me. Or at least, that’s what I’ve told myself.
I guess the truth is that I haven’t let anyone get close enough to me to really know. But I figured that if I met the ‘right’ guy, he would somehow intrigue me – get under my skin – despite my being so closed.
“I see through your walls,” my close friend says softly. “You don’t fool me Gypsy. I know how much love you have to give …”
And when he says that, my anger dissipates; I’m no longer pissed. Instead, I feel…vulnerable. Teary.
And maybe, just maybe…a little bit relieved.
Delaine – www.iamdivorcednotdead.com