i'm falling in love and it scares the shit out of me. that and its absolutely delicious. like sucking (freudian?hehehe)into mombasa mangoes in a hot, january afternoon. i've spend uncountable amounts of logged wo/man hours: deciphering. deciminating. de-constructing. dreaming. of and about love that i should have my p.h.d by now.*s*
& i realize, to my astonishment that whatever i've learnt from others
even though is great practise, cannot be applied in this case. so there i am, rumbling though archives of conversations from girlfriends, ex lovers and recently, with my mother.
my mother. i love my mother very much. i value her more now, not that i didn't when i was younger. nowadays, we are both transitioning into a more organic and verbal space in our lives together. i look at her as a wise crone. oozing with wisdom and sensuality. & practical advice. she is also non threateing. (phew. there i said it. )she is happy for me.to her, companionship is a healing balm. & also, as far as she is concerned so long as it's not a girl, she's fine. (hehehe) not that i'm all out to her..ohh no. its those unspoken things. no confirmation.i pledge the fifth. it's not in my place to do so. especially when we are separated by an ocean and a -9hr time zone.
the committment to continiously wife myself is the best choice i've ever done. & the most hardest. i'm those types of people who mold themselves to suit the relationship. i've always been afraid to be present in relationships lest i come off as being too much. you know, the too much syndrome. the you think too much. or scream to0 much when coming. or you cry too much. or laugh too loud.
last year was a defining time for me. with the re-current illness
& the demise of my status quo as a mistress for 2 years, i felt like shit. and feeling like overal shit. i was so ready for a change. & so tired of being so malleable. like water, taking any shape of whatever form.
i've always panted over solitude, cloistered lifes. like nuns' lifes with accessorized stuff (bath tub surrounded by shells. books. fancy writing paper. and music)& from time to time, i delve into the throes of silence. i even imagine myself living by myself, in the woods ala carte thoreau with books, dogs and a small garden to grow veggies and eggplants. then i get the urges. you know the urges to cuddle and spoon. to gaze into someone's eyes other then a dog, to fight and make up. to fuck for endless hours & to fix dinners that backfire. so, i'm not sure whether i can have my cake and eat it, although, i can't bake to save my self.
obasuyi is a gift to my senses. a sparkle of light & an immense sense of annoyance from time to time. reminds of me my brothers all the time. i wrestle with him & thats how i know i like him. african men are a strange breed, & especially those that are raised by their mothers and sisters. there is a deep trenched sense of respect for anyone female. i like the fact that he loves his mother & sisters. also, he adores alice walker. (extra brownie)
what terrifies me is i cry. i cry every tuesday since we started dating. thats weird right?it's like clock work, he says something, or doesn't i say something, he replies, i retort back and in between that, tears. uugghh! though its cool eh..! i'm like if he can deal with my tears (essential tears i must add), then he is a keeper. don't you think.