Make Love, Not War

Everything is moved. I'm so done with that! And I'm so happy to be here with Steve.

Several people, friends and family, have expressed concern over my seemingly hummingbird of a love life (as it has appeared lately). All y'all, please... rest assured that I do have a sound mind and that I do know how to use good judgment. Also, for all intents and purposes, my relationship with What's His Face has been over with since the end of May. We remain friendly... friends even. I never deluded myself that our relationship was going to go on forever. We were two people equally reaching out in a time of need and we were there for each other. It worked at the time. It doesn't any more. C'est la vie. I have no regrets.

Sure, I'll admit that I haven't known Steve all that long, that this whole romance has likely set some kind of land speed record, but I know what I know. Really, who out there has the right to set up a timeline? I know better than most just how fragile and short life is. We're all getting older, and we're all heading toward that metaphysical finish line. Why wait? And just what is there to wait for? When it's right it's right. I'm 47, he's 54... I keep thinking, John died when he was 47 and Dad died when he was 54. See where I'm going? It's not that I have a doomsday outlook (however, we already know that the gods are not to be trusted), but who can say how much time Steve and I will get to have together? I will take whatever time I get. All of it. Say you haven't eaten all day and someone lays a glorious banquet in front of you. Do you simply rub your belly and think, "Hmmm. Think I'll wait until I'm actually starving." Doubt it.

Me...? I'm divin' in. Both feet, both hands, full heart, open mind, eyes wide.

And if I'm wrong about all this? Well geez... then I guess for the very first time in my life I'll have to admit that I made a mistake. Oopsie... careful not to slip in my oozing sarcasm. Really, c'mon people. Quit judging. Be happy for me. Or at least stand down. You're making my overly protective pit bulls look like newborn kittens.

Also, as evidenced by some of the "noise" I got (static, y'know?)... I guess it's time for me to reiterate that just because I have found new love does not mean John has ceased to exist for me or that my love for him is in any way diminished. I loved the man, heart and soul and I will always love the man heart and soul. This was his wish for me (and I daresay he probably had a hand in setting it up). We talked about it. He wanted me to find someone who would love me for all I am, and who would give me the kind of love that John felt I deserved. Fuck. John made me promise, made me promise, that I would keep myself open to that. Any idea how painful that conversation was? Still is?! To sit there with the man you love, the man you love who is dying, to look in his eyes and hear him say, "I want you to keep yourself open to love. I want you to have even better than you had with me. I never felt like I gave you enough." Any idea how absolutely fucking painful that is?! I was the one all alone and holding his hand at the end, having been through it all with him. Me. I know exactly what I've been through up until now. I have all but taken a surgical knife to my heart and mind to keep tabs on what runs through both.

So. Don't you dare judge me. Don't you dare presume to know. These are my fucking shoes. They are tattered and all but falling apart from the path I've been on, and it's about damned time I met someone who cares enough to rub my feet.

So. Knock it off. Quit taking swipes at my happiness. It's mine. I get to.