A love story
At a party I’m in, there’s a guy desperately wanting to connect, yet committed to sabotage every single one of his attempts.
He uses the same shtick again and again. He darts towards a person, really fast, and immediately starts talking a lot.
As he pierces my invisible boundary and berates me with an inane monologue about chakras, I energetically call a friend who promptly whisks me away.
I dance, avoiding him a few more times until I begin to feel ready.
He’s droning next to a woman playing pool when he spots me. Next thing I know, he is sitting next to me and going into another monologue.
I feel the trigger. My body is activated and I can hear the menacing growl of the animal inside me.
I want to make snarky remarks and maul him to repel him for good. I want stand up and leave him speaking to the air. I want to punish him for his clumsy ways.
I can feel my claws coming out, yet I wait.
I keep reminding myself he’s a human being who hasn’t elicited enough love to be carefully adjusted on this spot.
I remind myself of the many times that just like him, I was unskilled and wanted connection, intimacy and to be seen.
I remind myself that unlike him, I am now a well trained woman possessing a vast arsenal serving what he so much craves.
I sit in the discomfort of not knowing how to kindly pierce my own identity in this spot so I can pierce his.
I nod politely, the music drowning a lot of what he says.
Then, he mentions something where I do want to interject but he talks over me. I look at him, raise my voice a notch and I ask him, very firmly, if I may speak.
He’s startled, very lightly disregulated. He nods and lets me speak. From that point on I know I have been given the reins of the conversation.
He says something about addiction and the animal inside me lights up. I state that addiction is a path to connect with the divine.
He says he knows that. I ask him if he’s an addict and he admits recently going cold turkey from a drug habit. I tell him I’m an alcoholic.
The animal inside me frolics, chases and leaps. The conversation moves forward and reveals him and myself more and more.
He says I’m good hearted and wise. That’s my cue.
I ask him if I can give him a suggestion and he says yes.
I tell him he should ask people more questions.
He is startled again. I can tell that a novel idea has landed on fertile ground.
He ponders and asks me “questions about what?”.
About themselves, I say.
He drops the ball and returns to dronning, the impact of it all needing to be digested.
In the hubbub he admits that a dude recently told him how drained he felt after talking to him.
I chuckle and I point him back to asking more questions.
He is willing; he immediately begins to ask me questions. At some point he asks about my job, he asks if I work in care. I tell him I’m a life coach.
He starts telling me more about his life problems. I can feel his hunger for answers, answers he is not yet ready to receive. I notice; and I have boundaries.
As I calmly stand up I tell him that tonight, I’m not in session.
