Dear Readers,


About a week ago I started to make an entry here. It began as an e-mail to Flirty, but then became too personal for work e-mail. And alas, it became to personal to actually share with you who can be random strangers, so I cut it & pasted it & hit print. Thought I would just give it to him, but alas that seemed too much like a child, a teenager. My standard MO since my first boyfriend ever was in the army & I wrote him. This growing up & maturing, this changing of habits that didn't work well the first or 2nd time around, is hard.

The text was not about him & me. It was just me. He had asked me 2 questions over the passage of months, that I felt I had not answered in full, but it took me awhile to figure out the answers. I also made a comment to him that though the words were truthful, the underlying meaning wasn't the whole truth & I wanted to explain to him the difference. I don't know if he was just conversing, asking questions because he wanted to know the answers or thought that I at my age should have answers for them. I started to e-mail him to ask him why he asked the questions, but alas that is the old MO, too. One conversation did almost create an opening for me to ask, but it was after the bell rang before it happened, and he had to leave for a meeting. Some day he & I are going to have to converse when there are no bells to tell us we have to stop. Why? Because we are friends who have too many half finished conversations. But if I seem too pushy for making it a closer friendship... share phone number for example, then it does not seem as though I am respecting his relationship with his lady friend. I intend to be respectful. I am not a wacked out stalker, groupie, obsessive type person. Ok, sometimes things stick in my brain too long which can seem obsessive, but I'm not. And yes, I know that Flirty has been the topic of way too many of these entries, but I can talk about everything else in the world any time I want to anyone I want. But processing all of this that is connected to him is harder. I have had trouble thinking it out straight until I am writing it... and I don't know if it is straight even then. But hopefully it is less spaghetti and more waffle when I'm done. Why? because I like life to make sense, and waffle logic makes more sense than spaghetti brain does... and yes, I know I've a lot of spaghetti brain.

At lunch yesterday, I did embarrass him. We had lunch in my room because I had left overs to get rid of from a church dinner. Have I told you that he regularly feeds two boys lunch and that I chip in every once in awhile? I bought a chess set at the dollar store because he & the boys had been talking about teaching them the game, so we have been teaching them to play. One of them improved a lot and almost beat me when I became over confident.

So anyway after lunch was over and the boys had left, he was walking out of the room & he noticed a magazine left open by students to pictures of starlets who looked like their fake boobs were falling out of their dresses. He said, "What a waste of about $5000."
I replied w/o thinking, "Well, my friends always told me that more than a handful or mouthful was a waste."
He replied, "Well, it is, you know."
To which I had to say, "No, actually I don't know." He glanced back at me & turned beet red. You see, I am relatively flat chested [and except when breastfeeding my babies (the youngest is almost 13) I never have had much up top, if any.] He then said, "talk about annoying thoughts," as he tried to brush the thought he had away as he walked into the hallway to go to his meeting. I had told him earlier in the week that his questions were annoying, & we had talked about how the questions are annoying because they stick in my brain, not because he is annoying or that I mind him asking questions. The hallway was full of kids, or I would have asked him what exactly he had thought. It was the flirtiest conversation we've had in over a month.

I had thought of cutting and pasting part of that document referred to above into here, and re-editing it to a more comfortable level. With the computer broken I had actually written it on my son's settings, and not mine, so alas, I had deleted it. Flirty had asked me what my scene is after I had said that an outing with a friend to a place where folks just stood around drinking was not my scene. That question haunted me. A woman my age should know the answer to that question. But in truth it's a hard one.

I know that before marriage I had a plethora of scenes: student, square dancer, modern dance/disco ish bar dancing, church, friends of every economical and social status, homosexual & heterosexual, and bi & transgendered, and friends of differing races and ages, friends studying the law, friends breaking the law. Quite an eclectic group could have shown up if I had thrown a party inviting everyone I knew... people that wouldn't even like each other if they knew the truth about the others there.

I know that during marriage the scenes shrunk to church, his family frequently, my family once in awhile, my jobs & back to college to get recertified to teach, and for a while local politics.

Last year, I tried square dancing. But it just wasn't the same. Most probably because single women out number single men 10 to one. And since I'm not a skinny thing with long blonde hair anymore, I have to compete for the few men... and the few men look older and are older than Flirty. And I'm not even going to compete for him, even as appealing as he has been to me.

I like dancing, singing, hiking, traveling, reading, roofing, motorcycle riding, baking, puzzles and games. I listen to country, classic rock, jazz, classical, new age and Christian music.

I've tried what we teachers call 8th hour. It's usually held on Fridays at a diner that also serves drinks. I like the food. I have been drinking more than ever in my life... a whole 2 amaretto & 7'ups, every other Friday. Once I even had 3. But I don't feel right the next morning, even when I just had one. So, I think I'll go back to not drinking.

I like church still, but it isn't enough to keep me feeling busy & satisfied. My Sunday school class is too led for my personality. The other adult class is trying to read the whole Bible in a year, and I couldn't keep up. Choir practice is good, but isn't every Sunday. It's a small church, so there isn't something every night like larger churches have.

I was so bugged by the question that I asked my daughter how she would describe "my scene." She said that I'll try just about anything involving friends that doesn't seem too stupid, illegal, or dangerous. Which is a definition I like, but it sure sounds like I am not sitting at home as much as I am. It sounds as if I live a much more adventurous life than I have. Maybe once I get some financial issues resolved, I'll start doing the more adventurous. The daughter also said more recently that I don't like to be categorized and labelled. Which sounds possible, but if it were true, would I admit it?

I am not ready to share the other question he asked, nor my answer. But I think I can share about the lie. The thoughts and details behind it explain a lot about who I am. Ok, I was trying to explain to Flirty why Lloyd & William creep me out. I said, "I'd rather sit there (pointing at his almost sofa) beside the guy who raped me than be in the same room as either of them." Yes, I've experienced a man having sex with my body without my consent. Most of the world considers this to be rape, and they envision violence and coersion. It wasn't really that way for me, and my closest friends know the story already. I don't know if they are aware of how I dug myself out from under it.

Let me take you back to the 1980's. I'm young and, as I can see now from pictures, I was pretty. I didn't feel it. I felt ugly and powerless, but I had discovered that I did have a power over some young males. I dated 5 guys at a time & remained a virgin. I loved the power, but one day I realized that I felt pretty damned slutty even though I didn't have intercourse nor perform oral sex on them. So I quit dating as many trying to improve my self respect. I narrowed it down to just one guy. I had dated him before, and had quit and started back up. This time I was well on my way to in love. Then one day much to my surprise I realized that I had just lost my virginity. I was not drunk, nor drugged. It just was not noticable until it was over... to be truthful, his penis must have been rather small. Technically this could be called a rape, because I did not consent. But I have never considered this a rape, and since we had "made love" I fell more in love. We talked about marriage, children, the future. He didn't propose; I didn't get a ring, but we talked like engaged couples do. We had more unplanned but consensual sex, because if every one does it, it must be more fun than it had been so far... I could tell there was potential in the act. Of course then my period was late, and we freaked out. Back then a girl had to wait at least 11 days passed her missed period to take a pregnancy test from the pharmacy. It was a stressful time, and we had the "what if" conversations. He made the mistake of saying that his type of people didn't get pregnant and then married, so I'd have to have an abortion, or go away and give it up for adoption. (His family was very noticably wealthy. Mine wasn't. ) When he said that, my "in love" feelings almost completely evaporated. He had been a friend for so long that the friendship and Christian love feelings were still there. I did not fully explain where I was emotionally. I didn't know how. I was in shock; I was hoping he'd change his mind. When I wasn't pregnant after all, I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter. He apologized, and started trying to say the right things, but I was still reeling. I let him come over. I let us start to "kiss & make up." I even thought, "It's called making love, and I fell more in love when we did it the first time." But then when he was ready to make love, I knew it wasn't right. I said, "I'm not ready for this." I meant emotionally, he thought I meant physically. I started crying, but he was not paying attention to me, just my down yonder & his own. I physically felt unable to talk. I felt unable to move. He was not doing anything violent. He was in no way restraining me, except he was on top. When he was done, he finally noticed that I was crying. He immediately realized what had happened. He gave words to my feelings, by saying, "You feel raped, don't you." He tried to apologize and console me.

I went into months of deep depression. One night I took my roommates bottle of sloe gin & I just swigged it down straight from the bottle. I had cried so much that day that I had a bad headache & didn't trust myself with the asprin. I almost flunked two classes important to my major that semester. When I wouldn't go back to dating him, nor accept his apology or marriage proposal, the boy went suicidal. When he left a $10,000 bond with me that matured in less than 2 weeks, I called his parents. They blamed me for him being suicidal, even though I was the one who let them know he was about to kill himself. I never told them why we broke up.

So for about 10 years I tried the victim's mantra: " It's not my fault." Meanwhile I married a man and had children with him. I first told him through written notes, that it turns out he didn't read until way too late. Every winter I went through an anniversary depression. I thought it was just SAD symptoms, not long buried angst. When the marriage was collapsing the first time, he finally heard me talk about the experience. I finally heard me talk about it. I "got over it" for real when I realized that it was partially my fault, which is totally against the counselling rules. If I had talked, or done anything, he would have stopped. He was just a stupid boy having sex for the 5th or 6th time in his life.

I talked with the therapist I had at the time about my feelings of powerlessness & lack of voice. I started learning to speak my mind. But I was married to a man who had power issues of his own. He didn't like sharing power, and was not accustomed to a wife who would speak her mind. I tried to learn how to be the wife he wanted and still be the person I need to be. He did not beat me, nor do the stereotypical loud berating and name calling. It was usually very subtle, but it was still abusive to my soul. For years I thought it my imagination, or that I was being too sensitive, but not long ago the pastor mediated a conversation between my ex & I. The pastor heard the subtle, and pointed it out to the ex. It was like being freed. I did not imagine it; I was not too sensitive. It was real.

Sitting beside the boy who had sex with my body would only be difficult because I need to let him know that I accept his apology & that I owe him an apology, too. It would not creep me out, but actually close a door of my life and help me move on. He may have technically raped my body, but not my soul. My soul already was damaged, and it was my ex who routinely raped my soul, knowing that it was damaged. And so, it is not an easy conversation that fits into a school setting, with it's damned bells, nor company e-mail.

What damaged my soul in the first place? Years of school aged bullies teasing me and a religion that told me to turn the other cheek. Now, if I had actually ever told anybody about the teasing, they may have explained that turning the other cheek didn't mean putting up with the shit the kids dealt out. But I was raised to solve problems on my own. I was raised to believe that asking for help was bad. I didn't see my parents cry, so I didn't let them see me cry.

I don't know if I'm doing much better with my kids. We've seen each other cry. I decided when my daughter was young not to beat submission into her, and to help her learn to speak her mind... She is better at it than me, but that doesn't mean she does as much of it as she probably should. With the divorce, I've even given them an example of not putting up with being treated like shit.

I've reminded them that even Jesus got angry in the temple and was always telling people when they were wrong. He usually just wasn't throwing yelling, screaming & throwing, though he did at least that one time in the temple. But I'm certain that some day they'll let the world know just how awfully I scarred them... it is what most kids do, isn't it?

Speaking of scarred kids....

Here are some updates on those on my prayer list that I've shared with you. Suicidal is still hanging in there, but still awfully depressed. His support system is probably a little more unstable this week. His best friend though was just convicted of shoving one of my best friends (it's a small world when you all go to the same place for 7 hours a day 180 days a year). And last week his parents had a doozy of a fight... over issues spouses should fight over, not the lame socks on the floor crap.

Probably Pregnant is. She went super flighty & missed a lot of school this past month, but this week she seemed to settle down some. She is 18, but not a senior. Her mom is being helpful about it all.

Will & Lloyd: I have purposefully greeted them in a positive manner every time I've seen them. I don't have either in class, so I can't make daily contact & make much active effort beyond that. Members of my church & I pray for them regularly. Flirty has more contact with one of them, and he knows about the Bible study & that I pray for them. One of them lunches in Flirty's room sometimes, & if we are both there at the same time I work hard at normal conversation.

The conversations in Flirty's room are varied, and friendly yet guiding and full of life advice for the kids there. And though I am willing to share some of my life stories to help the kids do better in their lives, I can't share them all.

May you heal from your childhood scars, and not pass on as many to your kids.