Nothing to Write

I have nothing to write about. Or so I thought.

Then I remembered how I felt on Wednesday when Mr. Intrigue shared his excitement about an upcoming date—his first real date since we started talking several months ago. He and I have not met in person, yet I’ve come to depend on him for emotional support in so many ways. Never once has he let me down as a friend and confidant. Due to distance and some other factors, I doubt I will ever know the joy of being in the same space, breathing the same air and touching the face of this man. But that does little to negate my feelings. I care for him deeply. Which is why, upon hearing about his date—with a sexy little twenty-five year old nurse no less—I felt ugly, green envy rise from my chest. Mr. Intrigue should date. He deserves a relationship with a wonderful local woman. I know all this. But inside I was stomping my well heeled foot and throwing china against a brick wall, a picture of bratty, juvenile defiance. Because I wanted to sit beside him, listening to the band play while sipping margaritas. I wanted to tentatively reach out and hold his hand. I wanted to be the one he kissed goodnight.

But no one wants to read about my temper tantrums. I still lacked a reason to peck away on my silver-toned keys. Or so I thought.

Then I remembered how I felt on Thursday when Lover pulled up beside my convertible at a red traffic light, the top off his Jeep, wearing jeans, boots, an old Van Halen tee shirt and a tattered baseball cap.  He looked to his right and shot me his wicked crooked grin. I smiled back, winked, picked up my phone and waved it at him before making my turn. It was ringing before I could get it back in my cup holder.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey to you,” I laughed back, memories of hot nights with him flashing through my mind.

“I’m single again,” he drawled.

“Oh yeah? You busy tonight?”

“I’d like to be,” he chuckled.

“What time?”

“I’ll be home around 8:00.”

“See you then,” I said, lowering the tone of my voice so the words sounded like both a threat and a promise.

As I speed away, the anticipation of rough, raw sex foremost in my mind, I felt strong, like a conquering warrior. Several hours later, after Lover and I had slipped back in our easy routine of meaningless talk, ravaging kisses and ball-slapping coupling, I drove away feeling calm and recalibrated, but hollow. The emptiness of our sex made it little more than the colliding of two animals in heat.

But no one wants to read about a hook up with an old flame that is going absolutely nowhere. I still had nothing worth posting.

Then I remembered how I felt on Saturday night when, after a day of welcoming company in my home, one of my dear out-of-town friends collapsed on my couch and pulled me close. There we sat, him with his whiskey, me with my red wine, listening to songs stream through the house from his iPod. I could hear the thud, thud, thud of his heart under his white linen shirt and smell his Creed cologne as I nestled against him, soaking in the intimacy. He spoke of work, fast cars and mountain lodges while I listened and wondered, is this what I want? Do I just want the safety and security of companionship with a mild mannered man? Is it enough? I wrestled with those questions, the wine warming my belly, tempering my fiery nature. Maybe it would do, I thought. Perhaps I could be content with buying into the expected routine. But then the next song in his playlist began.

“Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night,” sang Stevie Nicks, “And wouldn’t you love to love her? Takes through the sky like a bird in flight. And who will be her lover?”

The lyrics continued to wash over me, reminding me to own what I am, to admit that I feel caged when I attempt to adhere to a conventional relationship, to confess that fidelity has never been my strong suit.

All your life you’ve never seen a woman
Taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you Heaven?
Will you ever win?

She is like a cat in the dark
And then she is the darkness
She rules her life like a fine skylark
And when the sky is starless

All your life you’ve never seen a woman
Taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you Heaven?
Will you ever win? Will you ever win?

Rhiannon

She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn’t you love to love her?
She was alive like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?

All your life you’ve never seen a woman
Taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you Heaven?
Will you ever win? Will you ever win?

Rhiannon

Taken by, taken by the sky
Taken by, taken by the sky
Taken by, taken by the sky

Dreams unwind
Love’s a state of mind
Dreams unwind
Love’s a state of mind

I don’t promise heaven, but I do take flight. I’m in love with loving. I’d expound on the evening, but I’ll put people to sleep with tame tales of friendship, sofa chats and Fleetwood Mac serenades. So you’ll have to wait a little longer while I find something to write about.

29 thoughts on “Nothing to Write

  1. gotta love Stevie. Since we were 15, Adrian and i have always planned to name our first daughter Rhiannon.

    Looking at everything you wrote my thought is: you have options. Explore them. You put yourself out there, and I think that’s wonderful!!!! You’ll know what you really want, absolutely, when you find it.

    The lyrics are right: Love’s a state of mind.

    Or.
    It’s only right that you should play it the way that you feel it.
    When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know.

  2. That song didn’t speak to me like others of theirs. But as time goes in Ive encountered many – in person and virtual like u – that it held meaning for. I’ve really come to appreciate it more. So I’d say u wrote a lot.

  3. I have been truly wresting with the idea of passion recenly. How important is passion and great sex in life. Is it worth throwing away security? How much is it worth to risk? Or is it just fleeting anyway? What say you, Passionate One?

    • I think the importance of it varies from person to person. I have found it to be fleeting, but I can only speak out of my own experience. But that doesn’t mean it value it any less. I just understand it will have to come from a series of people throughout my life. And what is security? An illusion. A comfort zone. I can see the rational for those safety hedges that fence one in and keep the scary parts out. I just don’t always choose that.

  4. I bet you have some fun driving around with the top down and your hair blowing in the breeze flashing promising smiles to dudes.

  5. Nice post. Interesting inner conflicts.
    Relationships are illusions you start and then need to maintain. Nothing related to security, on the contrary…

  6. Pingback: Best Laid Plans | Creative Noodling

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