Meanwhile I Keep Searching For A Heart...

"They tell me love requires a little standing in line and I've been waiting for you, lover, for a long, long time. I've been pacing the floor, I've been watching the door. Meanwhile I keep searching for a heart."

Well. Zevon, obviously, was a freaking Genius. Lyrically and possibly definitively. I have heard the lyrics to the above mentioned song on many occasions. I only recently understood (as in, was able to verbally understand, the lyric 'a little standing in line') parts of it and Holy freaking shitsnacks did it happen at a inopportune time. I am at a point in my life where I am divorcing the man I have been with for 10yrs. Ten. Mother. Fucking. YEARS. Time enough to decide what qualities are important in a spouse, or mate. Qualities that...when you are 17 fucking years old you can NOT decide are things you HAVE to have in the future. I have been making a list, mentally, for...years probably, about the qualities I MUST have in a future partner. I have been planning a blog post...pros vs. cons...on this topic for a while as well.

So. Here I am tonight and there is A LOT on my mind. And about 4 sentences prior to this, I received a text from a man I enjoy ALL-too-much. And it just...ugh!!! It is all too freaking annoying, cruel, imperfect and horribly...just...fucking...BULLSHIT. Really. It is. If you knew me, my life, my wants, my desires, my hopes, dreams, lustful thoughts....whatever! You would know. You would be as completely frustrated with life that you want to smack the hell out of anyone that tells you love is real. Tells you happiness exists. Tells you it takes a long time to find the things you want. My friend, that I ADORE, called my life, and only the little he knows about it "twistedly poetic". My response was "Twistedly poetic??? It's a sick fucking joke." This friend has called me "intriguing". He, I think, is insane.

Fuck. I *may* not be thinking entirely clearly. My point is this (I think I have a point but please don't hold me to it): there is apparently a slew of fucking men that seem to think I am exceptional. More than enjoy my company. Love my sense of humor. My love of sports. That I can drink any fucking Irish man under the freaking table. I am not sure how they fail to notice that, as of late, I am cynical, angry and pissed the fuck off at the God damn world. Men that know those things....somehow...none of them...work for me. Because now? Now I have a mother fucking LIST. BITCHES. (I'll do that in another post one day).

I always wanted to be the well educated, gorgeous-in-sweats-with-an-au-natural-glow, looks like a pro while running, cute when angry, special woman men like Hiatt, Joel, Zevon and the others write songs like Feels Like Rain, All About Soul and Mutineer about. I ended up cynical but wonderfully optomistic. I love the rain, I know my soul, I pray for those I love, speak my mind, even when it mean disrespecting the people I love because, God damnit, sometimes it just comes to that. I love the people I hate because that is what Jesus would fucking do. I cry myself to sleep at the end of most days because I cannot believe that I settled for less than any of the surface bullshit qualities I listed above, let alone someone that doesn't set my soul on fire.

I am sick of men wanting the things about myself I hate. Or worse! Seeing things in me that simply aren't there. I'm honestly just annoyed at this point. I am not even divorced yet and the prospect of dating, looking or actively pursueing anyone scare the good and dirty fuck out of me. I have kids already. I have ZERO desire to ever remarry. I want self dependence. My own space. My own bed. A bed that can house my kids and I on a Saturday morning. A bed with pillows soaked in my tears. One that smells of my shampoo and bar soap.

I am sick of men telling me what an interesting, awesome, just-what-I-want-in-a-woman, woman I am. How my personality is exactly what they want. I am sick of being the hypothetical "girl next door". I want to just be me. I want to be me in every way, shape and form and I want for THAT to be enough. I want for that to be "tragically poetic" but in a beautiful way. I want to be all the things I'm not. But I still want the things I am to be enough for the people that need me.

If I weren't so fucking hell bent and giddy on making everyone that enters my life happy, I think it would make ME more happy. I really fucking hate it to shit when the people I think could love the shit out of me, don't have the fucking time of day, or evening, or night-because...of whatever.

Remembering who you are is tough. Being who you are is tougher. Remembering who you are, where you came from and being strong, proud and tough as shit to actually behave in accordance with that is the toughest. Fuck anyone that can't keep up with you and God bless the poor bastards that try like hell. Make Saints of the ones that manage to fill your void without making you hate them, get it and stay with you when you try like the she-devil to try and make them do so.