FEAST OF MEN Page 11

  “Natalie, you’re giving me such a headache. What’s so bad about money, sex and fun?”

  “Absolutely nothing, it’s what I want in a wonderful relationship. I am sorry, but you are keeping all this talk going. You began all this with your questions. If things are always painful—doesn’t it make sense to look at yourself to try and understand and to see why?”

  He answers, “Maybe, or I don’t know. All I know is that my goal is to have fun.”

  I state a bit sarcastically, “Okay, I forgot how together you are and you are complete with no need for anything else, much less any soul-searching. For me, there must be something sabotaging what I really want. If the outside doesn’t match the inside then something must be misfiring. Although, I also wonder, if I arranged it all just so I can find myself—like I’ll stay fractured until I meet my guy because there’s an element in me needing to know that he’ll love me only for me and help me if I need help. I have a need to feel protected. Not that I haven’t and can’t fend for myself, but I have a deep-seated need to feel the man in my life will help me—care for me—protect me, because he loves me. I’ll never put myself in a situation again where I have to wait, prove myself and suffer to have love. Anyway, I believe one of a man’s primary duties is to care for the woman he loves.”

  Finally, cars begin to move forward. A white Jaguar’s being towed away just as the road becomes clear.

  I laugh as I point, “There’s my car, David.”

  Snickering, “Yeah, being towed, but don’t worry you’ll get your car, Natalie. A Jaguar is a no big deal purchase. A woman like you could have a dozen men waiting in line to buy one for her.”

  “Only if I loved him and he loved me. Cars have been symbols in my dreams. Since I like cars, it’s an appropriate symbol for moving forward in my process of becoming.”

  David says, “When I first asked, I didn’t realize you’d have such thought out and lengthy responses, but since your mind is constantly turning. Why’d I think any differently?”

  “Sorry—but you did ask. I just hope my guy is doing the same thing. Like attracts like, opposites attract, and whatever the conscious mind believes, the subconscious creates or something like that. Only I have to laugh too concerning all this psychobabble.”

  “Blah, blah, yeah, more of your spiritual shit, I’ll give this much to you—you’re full of happiness and joy. One minute, you’re a little girl wearing a ponytail, skipping on the beach. The next, a sexy sophisticated woman at a cocktail party—then an intellect delving into everything—not to mention my personal favorite, ‘a spiritual guru’.” He smirks.

  “Don’t you think most people have many different aspects?”

  “Hell no! Most women are trying to be something they aren’t, or just act the way they think they should to impress, and to get what they want. They never say anything worthwhile, much less thought provoking and certainly not with any effort to try and figure out their self, much less the world. You’re an unusual woman and not afraid to show others who you are and to say what you’re thinking. So never change and hold onto your values.”

  “Thank you—but being me, sure comes with a price and lots of pain.” As I think, some good it’s gotten me, holding onto my values. The women David describes are just like he is. Then what he says, that he likes about me, is just how I’m not like those women. It’s all too bizarre.

  “Really Natalie, do you need some help with money? I’ll help...”

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, it’s the final piece of my puzzle.”

  “Well, let me know if I can help.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but no. I can’t take money from someone unless I love them and know they love me. I am trying to learn to receive, because I’ve most always been the giver—the mirror of giving friends is a great, but receiving much of anything is a place that I’m not used to.”

  He adds, “It’s possible that I may have, maybe one good friend? Don’t trust people much because they’re always after something.”

  “Well, I never understood why I was so taken advantage of—I thought it was because I wasn’t good enough.”

  “It’s because you are too good and too trusting.”

  “Trusting everyone, but myself—hopefully now, I’m learning to trust and to love me. I’m being paid to do this book project. So, I will be fine for awhile. The universe seems to be supporting me as I go one place to another. If only I can maintain my faith that things will be fine as long as I’m on my path and in my purpose—if I could sell my house, it would certainly help. David, isn’t it interesting you offered me money when you have a fear of women wanting you for money?”

  “You aren’t like any woman that I’ve ever met.” Chuckles, “Besides, I knew you wouldn’t take me up on it because of your principals, but it’s surprising to find out you’re having financial difficulty. You don’t appear like you are. You look like you have it all.”

  “Yeah, it’s strange. For some reason, I look financially successful. It must be the way I dress or carry myself.” Happily, I spy airport lights just ahead. I so look forward to napping on the plane.

  “Natalie, it’s class and refinement and people associate it with money. You radiate a glow of happiness also attributed to money then you dress elegantly, but understated and with excellent taste. And it is also in the way you carry yourself.”

  “Okay thank you, but David perhaps you’re thinking I’m not like a woman because you have designated women as your enemy coming after you for money, or so you think? Which is why you’re trying to conquer them before they conquer you—you know, conquer thine enemy. So perhaps, you don’t see me as the enemy, since we didn’t have sex and I’m not after your money. Plus, I’ve allowed you to see into my heart.”

  “Who knows? I still wish you were a bit different in the sex area.”

  “If I were different, I’d have a different look in my eyes then I’d become the enemy. Do you really wish I’d lower myself to suit your values?”

  “No, not really. Don’t ever, ever lose the look in your eyes.”

  I comment, “After all our phone conversations, this is our only serious in depth one. Usually, we spent most of the time slamming each other sarcastically. Thanks for talking with me.” As I think to myself, thank goodness we enter the airport.

  David says, “Talking with you is kind of like being in bible class. Maybe, you should really look into being an evangelist.”

  “Oh, bite me. I knew this was coming. You say a couple of nice things then slam. Most of the traditional religious stuff I find scary. Seems to be all about control—organized religions appear mostly what they do is judge others because so many focus on and preach God’s judgment instead of his love. As a child, I was scared of God because of what I was taught in church. Now, I have come to understand God loves me and this has come about through my own searching, reading and life not having much to do with traditional organized religion. Although, as a child I did study the Bible and read it often. Today, I find comfort in its messages. My belief is now, that religion is of man and spirituality is of God and the Bible is the basis for it all. Only this is a whole different subject. Geez, I’m a yak box. How can you stand me?”

  “I can’t.”

  “David, I’ve enjoyed talking to you and thank you for this fun trip.”

  “Natalie, you’re special to me and if I could ever be a ‘traditional guy’. Whatever that means? It’d be with you. Only, I’m just what I am, an old sex fiend by the sea.”

  “Well, I really wouldn’t want you to be any other way because you’re such a charming one.”

  The line of cars moves slowly towards the terminal, I draw into myself—bored, frustrated and inquiring internally. Where are you, Mr. Wonderful? After talking about you so much, where are you now? Where’s the magic? Will I know you by the look in your eyes, your smile or your touch? Or perhaps, I’m meant to be alone and suffering. Weary of this ‘Job�
� inspired life with everything going nowhere. ‘Job’ did receive rewards and happiness in the end. Please, God, let me experience true reciprocal love with a man before I die. It’s fine to analyze, but I’m ready to be living it. Why did God give me such an ability to love then have no one in my life to experience it with? Why give such a wonderful gift, if it isn’t able to be appreciated and used? Is it some kind of a punishment, curse or a trick? To carry so much passion inside gets damn frustrating.

  Bantering with David, dealing with his morose attitudes bring out a negative feisty side of me that I don’t like. I feel like I have to be on guard and can’t relax into my soft feminine side or I’ll be annihilated. David constantly argues and I hate arguing. Interesting how different people bring out different aspects of one’s personality. David and I are mirroring each other’s fears about money for one thing and it’s exhausting. Recognizing this clearly, I want to get away from him quickly and be able to take a deep breath and relax. Always needing to defend myself because he’s uncomfortable with himself and it feels awful.

  He usually says things to get a rise out of me or withdraws into the TV, talks of sex, eating and liquor in his goal to escape. He’s so into physical escape that he’ll probably never allow himself to feel his emotions and be truly intimate with a woman. I even cuss more around him. Glad I figured it out and feel better now. So goodbye, David. I feel as if I want to pat him on the head like he’s a little puppy—so he can be on his way to sniff around for more prey.

  Geez, it’s like I’m a football being passed from one man to the next as they give me their gifts of self awareness before passing me onto somewhere else—another experience. Disgusting analogy—a football being passed and I pretty much hate that game. Perhaps, it’s really more like pieces of a broken mirror with each one reflecting an aspect of who they are and who I am in their reflection, or what I perceive they are and perceive about myself. And it just hasn’t all come together yet. David reflects anxiety and insecurity concerning sex, money and love while mirroring intellect and creativity. Scary—because he’s a bit like my father, then I wonder if all his sex talk is my shadow projecting that sultry side of me. Some of this is probably true, but I’d rather a big part of my mirror be love, connection, attraction, happiness and joy that manifests into sexual chemistry and connection.

  I wonder if—piece by piece—all the parts will be reflected back, until a fit will occur which dims the glare and edges of all the broken ones, as I process through my beliefs and life. Or is it just too early in the morning and I’m totally losing it? David’s correct, I need to stop thinking so much.

  David interrupts my contemplation, “Why so quiet? I worry when there’s too long a time of silence—no more deep thoughts or spiritual insights that we need to talk about—chew up then spit out? No more about your special prince? Hey, are you still breathing?”

  “Still sleeping, asshole or perhaps, I’ve temporarily left my body and am hovering over this crazy mixed-up world stuck in observation. You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.”

  “Doubt it because there’ll be silence. I’ll be able to think again and my head will finally stop hurting.”

  Interesting, we both have headaches. At the terminal, David opens my door, sets my luggage on the curb in front of the luggage check-in desk then gives me a hug.

  “Goodbye, beautiful Natalie. I am going to stay with you while in Dallas because that way I won’t have to pay for a hotel room.”

  Oh, to save ‘money’, huh? Well, I’d enjoy having you.”

  “I’d enjoy having you, too!”

  I chuckle to myself in disgust at his remark—give it up, David. Boring is his polarization of sex versus love. He blows me a kiss then waves goodbye. I turn towards the terminal, take a deep breath and finally feel free from his darkness and negativity and feel energized just to be leaving him. I chuckle to myself as I think, goodbye David—you funny fat, sex-fiend toad and thanks for the trip.

  Standing in line waiting to check my bags, I observe people scurrying here and there. A glamorous appearing couple passes by. I wish I could be like one of those women involved with men who buy them all sorts of goodies and take them on trips. Able to accept gifts from men whom they care nothing about and it not bother them. If only I had no morals, standards, or conscience—sigh—then I could live like that—ha! For the past five years, I’ve been living on the edge, surviving day by day and it’s tough, but what an empty life that would be. Or perhaps, I want to be like that in my next life. Except who really knows what’s going on inside anyone else or in their life? People look at me and think I have it all—and I have been left broke, devastated and even left for dead by men whom I thought loved me.

  Strange about the sexes, why do we seem to be angry for desiring what the other has to offer? Imagine a man without a heart and a woman without a brain or worse yet, imagine a world without men or a world without women—either way, it’d be a boring disaster. We need each other for the excitement of the challenge along with the tension of the polarity to learn about each other and ourselves, in order to create balance. The energy of a loving couple even brings a kind of joy to those observing their emotional connection.

  Why did all my loves go so terribly wrong and not just a little bit, but absolute total destruction? All marriages have challenges, but all my husbands made such extreme choices that took from our relationship leaving me with nothing. I was the one trying to keep it together by being the ‘good’ wife, by talking, compromising, doing without, even temporarily losing myself. Finally, arguing into becoming explosive as I tried, so full of commitment to get them to stop drinking, gambling, womanizing and lying. I hoped that if I could get them to heal themselves—to see me, see us, that we might then have a true loving intimate relationship. If I could get them to stop the hurt in their psyches long enough to see me—experience me—experience love then we might have a chance and then I could feel loved. But it was up to them—the whole time. I had no control over their choices for destruction—I was just temporarily included in it.

  Any ounce of love I did receive was savored and squeezed tightly in my desperate search to find more from where it came. All I accomplished was to empower them while unconsciously losing myself in their addictions, destruction and dramas, until something was triggered in me and I would become conscious again, but wasn’t I doing exactly what a woman from my generation’s supposed to do? Support her man and keep it all together while making him—‘us’—look good to the world.

  I’ve been a housewife, a career woman, financial supporter, even kept physically fit before the rest of the world became fitness aware. Doing it all mostly with my own resources and for what? All the while, the men were criticizing and eroding what little self-esteem I had as I tried to hold on, trying so hard to please and be loved. My mother did practically nothing, but she had a marriage with financial security even if she lost part of her brain to do so. I shiver then nervously laugh.

  I certainly wasn’t perfect, but I’ve never had an affair, gambled, drank to excess, did drugs, was romantically in love with a child or had ex’s and lawsuits controlling the marriages. I always put the man and the marriage first, while they were putting everything else before me. Why wasn’t I ever important enough to be put first? Why couldn’t they see my love and see me? Why didn’t they ever think I was worthy of love or anything else for that matter? Gosh, three divorces. How’d this happen? Was I a complete failure or was it more like—I’d been the one failed?

  Even more crazy is that I don’t believe in divorce, only I’d have died a slow death with my spirit becoming non-existent, if I’d stayed married to anyone of them for one minute longer than I did. I’d have become like my mother. Laughing at this hideous thought—perhaps, the trick to an enduring marriage is to become lobotomized.

  Disgusting thought, but is suffering what a woman must do to stay in a marriage or be with a man and lose herself? Why did I want love, marriage and the dream so much that I forgot
about me just to have it? I was put down by the very men, I desired to receive love from—was this just mirroring the relationship with my father and mother. So now that I recognize this drama, it will be different in the future—right? It must be and I must be careful about who I become involved with.

  So, driven to find my true love is sometimes a burden because it may never happen. Talking with David has made me wonder if I’m asking for too much. Except, why should I care what anyone thinks because it’s only about me and what I want and no one else? It’s okay to be me and to want what I want. Isn’t that what all my healing and awareness have been about?

  Interesting, David became complimentary at the end of the visit, even calling me beautiful and offering money. Um, his final attempt at seduction or control.

  I check my bags then walk quickly to the gate, while I enjoy watching all the people as I imagine about their lives. Are they happy or not? Do they love and have sex with their wife or husband? Some couples, I just can’t imagine having sex. Others look as if sex would be natural and happening all the time. Must have sex on my mind—um, I so want to be the mistress of the man I’m married to. Ah ha, that’d be fun. If I can ever meet a man who’s as good in bed as he thinks, says, or pretends to be.

  Just please, God, don’t let my true love pass me by without recognition. I have fear my true love won’t know me or he’ll be so full of his own fear that something will go wrong. I pray he’ll be able to see himself, so he’ll be able to see me. Except, if he can’t then it won’t be him—right? This is where my faith and trust must come in. Faith—that all I’ve been through has prepared me for a great outcome. Trust—that the universe will support me in what I’ve requested and that I’ll be aware and follow the signs because I don’t want to miss a clue.

  As I am walking to my gate, I turn to notice an airline pilot looking at me and walking a bit behind me, only off to my left side. He smiles at me as our eyes meet. Um, he’s cute with a friendly smile. Pilots—so many of them are such flirts.