On Why Life Is Not Fair

It's not fair, to be writing only at the beginning and the ending.  There was so much inbetween.  A heaven sandwich, with a bitter nut hidden in the cream.  She said she knew at the beginning, when she was trying not to start.  That's what she said.  Maybe if we had had this conversation then, instead of the one we did....  Maybe if things had been different, things would be different.  Maybe I never woulda had that sandwich.

Maybe that's why.

Still.

So, post-mortem details of the cream are: hours at a bookstore, reading and talking excitedly; walking in the cooling air amid trees beginning to turn; reading more and more talking, good discussions; drumming; a lovely assortment of passion-filled encounters; luscious days in Hershey, full of patience and sweetness.

That sweetness, asked for again instead of the pushy drive, got the response about "my needs too." "Really? Really?" I thought driving through the rain, taking her home for the last time.  I was appalled at the assumption, at the entitlement.  Let me introduce you to the idea of My Body and also What I Say Is What I Mean.

This vicious streak was a raspberry syrup to my delightful creamy heaven sandwich.  I hate raspberries.  It was new and now it is gone.

Ah but the nut, the nut of truth (what is truth?) and justice (is there ever justice?).  I didn't care about the American way, but I am committed to the Jewish way.  Like, directly, purposefully, this thing I will care for, I will not give it up.  It's the basis for my breath.  It's my guide, with whom I argue and question, to whom I give thanks. It's my reason for loving, the reason I can love. I have the ability to fall in love so so quickly.  I'm easy like that.  I give my love away for free.  And having decided that alone is not so bad, I am ratcheting up my selection process and filtering out what is not good for me.  I gained this super power directly after my first and only mikvah.  True.

Yes, my reality is woven together like this.  Yours may be different.  And that is awesome.  I would love to hear the story of your weaving.  When we try to make a cloth out of us both, and maybe add another, we all have to give -- in order to weave you have to go under.

But my reality, my underpinnings, what I believe -- there's gotta be room for that.  And yes I will choose my faith over passionate love for an individual, if that's the choice I have to make.  That's how I roll.  That was easy.

It's easy to fill in the gaps in the story.  Even what I write isn't complete.  Making whatever assumptions you're making in your mind right now not true. There is another side to the story and I can hear her protesting now.  I can see her in my mind and the vision makes me smile.  I know her like this.  It's not all bad, at all, even really a little.  It's just not going to work.