Ms. ZigZag

Why am i still single? The question of the year.

The question, “Why still single?”is both a compliment and an accusation. I usually smile and pause. I take it to mean I am a catch. I take it to mean that I am a woman most men wonder about and simultaneously fear. I do not have children. No mortgage. No debt. No Abortions. No Prozac. I have no hidden secrets because I have this blog and most people know too much as it is, so there is no hiding. (Yes there was that one stint with that one weirdo vampire-guy who really did kiss me and made my gums bleed from two symmetrically cuts above my canine teeth,  but I have no explanation for it and have no idea where he is. I was 22 in New York. I take it he is alive or dead and doing well. ) I have no porn videos that you can find on youporn, so all in all I am still a catch.

So why still single?

It’s a strangely fascinating position to be in. Some days I feel I have won some "just-turned-forty" social lottery that allows me the freedom to be as crazy as I want to be, some days I feel like I will die if I do not get my arms around someone. I got a dog, and truthfully it helps. Yet, I still want to text message that certain someone (the one I’m afraid of) and ask if I can crawl into bed with him, but instead write clever texts like, “You gotta see the moon, “ hoping he will see that as a hint and ask first. Sometimes it works. Other times I go home alone, and after the first sting of realizing that he didn’t ask, honestly I get happy that I am home alone doing whatever I want, whenever I want. It’s a weird trade off.

Backtrack: I spent years in long monogamous relationships. My first was 16 to 21, then 22 – 28. From there it got vague. I scrambled and got lucky (yes lucky) and met a man of my dreams, at least for 2 years until his drug addiction and my panic set in, and then it all blew up in our face. We married (for all of 6 months) because we thought that would save us. It didn’t. It actually created a wound so deep Tonya Harding would have to break more than a few knees to make the pain feel equal. So I think: Been there done that. Scared to  death to do it again.

Since the divorce I’ve scrambled by falling in love with men I can barely live without, yet want to find freedom from. Because when you're single and you've finally made it past the age when you've felt love's deepest slashings, and also its most hot passions, past the age when getting stupid drunk at basement parties and hooking up is the ultimate goal, and you've had enough sex to fill hundreds of porn movies and everyone around you is no longer on some sort of giddy, wide-eyed-oh-this-is-the-one parade, what it means, at least for me, is that you get to become this odd sort of sounding board  - you get to  enjoy and lament all that love is.

Which is another way of saying: I am learning something. Or rather, re-learning. Or rather, I have something that everyone sort of knows. Some people envy it, some people feel bad for me, and no one likes to talk about it, but their curiosity gets to them and they clench their teeth and they ask, “So why still single?”

I know. Shocking.

Singlehood at my (dare I say) “mature” age can be a time of profound cleansing, of enjoying the moment as something new and old, of trying to figure out just what you're all about and what you really want and how to go about getting it, or not getting it, or letting it all go and not attaching to it so that it may find you, in the best most honorable and sexiest way possible.

It goes on. There are no rules. Monogamy. Polyamory. Dating. Seeing. Fucking. Loving. Living.

I have friends that fuck their friends. I have friends that fuck strangers.  They all write stories about how he is the one, or she is the one, or they are the bunch.  There is no pattern. The exceptions are the rule. There is no approach that, overall, seems to work for most people most of the time. There is not even a hint of possible formulas. Kids? Maybe. Maybe not. Kids don’t bind bad relationships. If anything bad relationships fuck up kids. I vote break up and at least give those kids a chance at seeing true love,  or at least true devotion. Find someone to love, or love yourself first. Your kids will thank you. And for god’s sake save a friendship over fucking your best friends partner. Even if you have “that connection." That connection is more temporary than a good friendship, because odds are the friendship is  (in the long run) WAY more important and valuable than following your lonely, horny ass.

All of these plans and renditions of relationship is why God laughs. We want it all. I know I do. And the truth is that I have it all. Love is not something I am lacking. I have nurtured and kept sacred the ones I love.  So many loverships and so many friendships.  I have so many people that I would die for I can't count them on all my fingers and toes. So when that lame ass guy asks, “Why still single?” I snicker to myself, because I have more love than most. I have more sex than most, and if the shit hits the fan I have a fan club that will come to my rescue the same way I will come to the rescue of those I love. Those that know, know I love them. I’m not single. I have more love, more attention, more connection and more freedom than I've had in all my years combined....And all of this because I chose to live my own love life. I dare say I am love. Looking at it all I have never been single. Never was. Never will be. 

But yes, I've still got my hopes up, still got my fingers crossed, because that's the best part of all this nonsense. I still believe that it's simple because for the most part, I still believe in love. 

 

Relationships Revisited. Doggie Style.

After 40 years of being in and out of a multitude of relationships  (monogamy, polyamory, loverships, weekend flings, marriages, etc.) I finally made the plunge:  I got a dog. It’s the first relationship that happened rather seamlessly and seems to be the best one ever.  This is what happened: the  giant Dog-God appeared at the foot of my bed  (just like Harvey the giant rabbit )and said, “Psst. Hey you. Yeah you. It’s time.”  And just as if I was bit by the dog vampire I was completely hypnotized and seduced by the idea of being a mommy to a mutt.  So I did what any New Yorker turned West Coast Woo-Woo might do: I meditated everyday and talked to my dog in some other dimension and asked it to find me. Seriously. I told her that I was ready and that all she needed to do was come to me.  And although friends of mine told me I should get a boy dog, because they supposedly bond better with women, I knew my dog was a girl. I figured I have enough boys in my life and men seem to circle me like satellites, so it made sense that some feminine  energy would make more sense.

I spent my web-time cruising petfinder as if it was match.com, but it felt kind of  like picking a lobster out of tank.  I would stare a lab named  Coco (why are so many labs named Coco?) and judge him based on the tilt of his tongue. This was not proactive or productive, so I prayed to the Dog-God some more and then the call came. One of my ex-boyfriends  had a friend that was loosely looking for someone to adopt her dog.  She was very busy and wanted to give her dog to a home that would be able to give it more attention.  Apparently she and her brother found the dog a year ago in the woods in Alabama. The dog was obviously abandoned. She had been dumped in the woods after having a litter of pups, but never got to raise them which made her breasts swell in horrible proportions because none of her pups suckled  her.  I’m talking HUGE swollen breast and she was scared to death. The poor thing was in bad shape. They took her in, cared for her, and did their best. The dog recovered nicely. Eventually the girl traveled to Portland, but her schedule and lifestyle wasn’t conducive to giving the dog the best doggie life. She loved the dog so much that she wanted to see it in a good home. If you know me you know I’m a huge dog lover, and I work  from home as a fulltime writer. I have the ability to give a dog the best home ever.

And just like that, “Wala!” I was in love.  When I got a text message with her picture I was dumbfounded. She was exactly the dog I had in my mind’s eye. It was the spookiest manifestation ever. A pitbull mix. Maybe mixed with boxer, or maybe a little mastiff.  The story goes that they first called her  Ruby, but then renamed her Edward.  Edward just didn’t seem to fit, so after calling her about 30 different names I jokingly called her “Rumi” (one of my favorite poets) and her ears perked up and she loved it.  (At the time I didn’t know her first given name was Ruby, so it made sense.) And just like that Rumi became a new member of the Montefusco family.

Rumi is the ultimate dog. She is gorgeous and attracts people like some Hollywood Hottie. She is the queen of canine. People are always telling me what a handsome dog I have and get mesmerized by her calm and confident aura. She is shy at times and a little scared. This of course is part of her master plan to seduce those around her and take over the world. She is active when outside and totally chill when indoors. It’s hard to get her out of bed in the morning, which I might add is a bonus. I love a dog that knows how to lay around like a stoner , but can also outrun every dog in the dog park. She is pure love, but  doesn’t slobber your face.  I’m telling you, when you have a dog like this it’s easy to let go and just live a happy life because every night I know I get to snuggle with the best friend a girl could ever have.  

Top Ten Reasons I Didn't go to Burning Man this year

10.Because 2010 is going to be so much better.

9. Because I heard Captain Erotica didn't go. 

8. PICA.ORG kicks major ass this year. (Get out and see some art in Portland, OR. It's amazing.)

7. Do I really need the desert to exert my ultimate unique inner rock star? I mean really, my life IS Burning Man.

6. Clean sox, clean pillowcases.... clean genitals.

5. I can get drunk and stupid on weekdays so why limit this to one week a year?

4. I've already met and spoken to Larry Harvey.

3. I can kiss random people and wake up in someone else's tent on weekends.

2. A dusty vacuum bag, a fan, and loud speakers and I've got it all in my livingroom. All without driving 9 hours. 

1. NO DRAMA CAMPS.

what are you falling in love with?

Drawing by Exploding Dog

“The opposite of courage in our society is not cowardice…it is conformity."
 - Rollo May, Man’s Search for Himself.

Conformity is like a bisexual: it goes both ways. It gets caught up in small peer pressure, as well as the masses. Anything that keeps us in a holding pattern, or traps us in a system, is just another jail cell.

I dare you to ask yourself, What are you falling in love with? This question helps me break out of my rut. Here are my answers:

I’m falling in love with darkness.

I’m falling in love with palm trees and all that hand-picked help from God. I'm in love with poetry, madmen and crazy chicks.

I’m falling in love with losing.

I’m falling in love with miniscule pieces of sand and saying no to things that cut me.

I’m falling in love with dirty fingernails, blackened from putting my hands in the earth.

I’m falling in love with leaving.

I’m falling in love with the crazy ways I blaze a trail of total annihilation.

I'm falling in love with the memory of when wonderbread stuck to the roof of my mouth.

I’m falling in love with loss, and that heart beat of panic.

I’m falling in love with devotion.

I’m falling in love with lightening burning through clouds, and the spark of iron on stone.

I’m falling in love with Italian men, tanned and oiled, with gold chains and valor.

I’m falling in love with life changing forces that wake me from my sleep of contentment.

I'm falling in love with fire, full stomachs, and friction.

I'm falling in love with dying.

Giant steps with you know who.

I want to be perpetually intoxicated for my love for God. I am learning that the only way to do this is to so overpower the fire with love, that is has to love me back in return. 

But love is much deeper than I had originally thought, and just as the ocean's depth is scary, so is true love. (It's also a bit moody sometimes and full of tricks because true love is love for God ) However, there comes a time in life where you know you can't turn back. A time where you can't pretend anymore. You know what you have to do. The irony (I presume) is that although it seems so damned hard at first, in the end it's worth every step.