boldly being stupid since 1985

When I first opened up a new post window and put the cursor in the title field, the only thing I could think to write was "oi vey." Eventually I settled on the title you see above, but the runners-up were "oi, oi vey," "oi" and "dammit." A little less eloquent than what I finally came up with, but they all convey the same basic emotion.

Oi.

Last night Mr. Risky Business came over, we went to dinner at SoulFish and then came back to my place for homemade Not-Blonde-Brownies, Bailey's and a few episodes of Weeds. And at some point we're kissing and instead of my mind being all overwhelmed with his good smells and the adrenaline and endorphins and hormones and ACK!, all I can think about is this very obvious, very glaring piece of evidence of his past that he wears around his finger. That he still wears around his finger.

And so, figuring that no time will really be the best time and remembering some hackneyed expression about there being no time like the present, I blurt it out. I ask him why he still wears it.

There's a long silence. And instantly I regret asking it, but am simultaneously relieved it's been said out loud.

"To remind me," he says finally, "that it's technically not over. And not to go too far."

I don't know quite what I'd expected him to say. I don't know that I had any expectation, actually. I hadn't imagined he was going to say something that was going to devastate me, or something I didn't already know or hadn't already intuitively perceived. And actually, his answer almost made me laugh -- not like "ha ha" funny, more like ironically funny -- since that voice in my head that wouldn't shut up while we were kissing just moments before had mostly been yapping on about how having sex with someone who still wears that around his finger would not be the best investment in the future of my self respect.

So in a way I guess it was serving the same purpose for me.

And after another episode of Weeds and a little cooling off, and a few spins through some Bob Dylan records, we got to talking. About life, about stuff, plans, interests. Things. Things you talk about. And he said some things that he's said before, or at least sentiments he's expressed before, but for whatever reason they struck me and stuck with me in a much different way.

After he left I just felt conflicted. Part of me -- this very small, very logical part of my brain that almost always gets ruled out by the much bossier, louder parts of my brain dedicated to sex and romance and being held and feeling comfort -- wanted to write him an e-mail right that second and say, I have to stop this before I get too emotionally involved. I have to protect my heart.

But then I realized that my heart is already vulnerable. I'm already emotionally involved. The car is in drive, it's on the road and turning around now won't change the miles that have been driven. And the fact is, regardless of those feelings I do want to see where this is going. I want to see where the road might lead. But I worry that what I'm hoping for is the cardinal sin of womanhood: thinking you can change a man. It's not that he can't change. It's that I can't change him. And I can't invest in something based on the idea that he might.

But, whoops. I already have invested in him. And I knew what I was doing when I made the initial deposit. Shit, I named him Mr. Risky Business for a reason. And the thing is, we could keep going like we are, seeing each other, enjoying each other's company, talking about music and books and life and god, I love all of those things. I love spending time with him. But what is this leading to? Not knowing what something is right this second is not really too hard for me. I can take the slow forward motion. But what if there is no forward motion? What if I don't have a flying clue where it could ever be going? Ever? That gets a little stickier.

So, I like him. But I don't know if he can give me what I want. And I'm not even talking big picture here. I mean, yes, I do want to be married and have babies and all that, eventually, and I'm going to need to be with someone, eventually, who wants those things, too. But even in the very present tense, the very small picture, I wonder if there are things that I want that he can't or won't or isn't prepared to give me -- even down to calling me his girlfriend or introducing me to his friends.

I think in the past my tendency has been to ignore red flags and let that logical part of my brain be drowned out by the others -- they're flashier and prettier and say things I like to hear far more often. And though I'm certainly still listening to them more than I do the logical stuff, I'm not ignoring the red flags. I haven't put the brakes on this thing, and I don't want to. I want to see him, I want to see what could be. I'm cautiously optimistic. And maybe I'll use those little red flags to build a makeshift fort around my heart.

Just in case.


cheers,
elizabeth