Out of Body

Interactions between men and women are so odd.

I feel these intense societal pressures to act pristinely. Don't curse. Don't be crass. Don't dress inappropriately. Don't be loose.

I wanted so badly to let myself go the other night, to let loose and follow my instincts. These crazy alarms that I've never heard before suddenly sounded off in my mind, these deafening reminders of my moral obligations as a woman.

So you know what I did? I said, "Fuck it." I loosened the reins an inch or two.


You know what I think now? Those rules are there for a reason. Sometimes guidelines are necessary.

Geez, do I really think that? I don't know. What the hell is wrong with just doing what you want, if it doesn't hurt someone else?

Why did I let myself be shamed? Too easy of a role for me to play, I guess. The smarter half of me knows I have nothing to be ashamed of; the dumber half is louder.


This past weekend feels bizarre. I feel ill thinking about it, and am even having trouble remembering all that happened. I'm not terribly interested in remembering.

Instead, I'm craving the familiar more than ever right now. What I'd give to look into the eyes of someone who knows me so thoroughly that words aren't even necessary. How good it would feel to surrender myself to him, tired and battered by distant shores, relieved to be home again. I thought I was looking forward to exploration. This is harder and more treacherous than I had imagined. All I want is his comfort, warmth, and ease of conversation. I miss being loved, and loving.

I'm not in search of a reconciliation. I just want my best friend back.

Again, I ask, does this get any easier?