Love and Honesty: It Is Not My Love He Seeks.
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And he tells me… as the night stealthily creeps upon us.
My mind judders, as I think back to the morning, when the medicinal pills should have begun to diffuse through my bloodstream. Had they been swallowed? Wonder if this is the reason I am struggling to find sleep?
Tiredness is the rejector, and I consider carefully how this always makes me behave. His rationality has started to seep into me, like his powerful sexy force. With these debates noising around my head, the sounds quieten and I drift off. Never mind.
Tidying his studio hotel room in the dimness of a half-awake Parisian morning, I come across something I think he will miss. So I check with him first, and the message delays, and arrives with him just when I am on the street homeward bound. He tells me again…
What is this mash of feelings, this carelessness of my ardent female emotion? For I have walked hand-in-hand with love before. Then, in another chapter, had a late declaration of love made months into a commitment. But what of this?
Je ne sais quoi. But the adventure, travel, excitement that this connection brings, I love. I will stay on this bending line for a while, see the world with him, until I am ready to hop off, transformed and filled up with all I have been missing.
We all profess to know about love. There are standards: the expected PDA, the surprises, the gifts, the togetherness. Yet, I do not measure by these; I am resigned. The pedestal one lover put me on was rocked, shunted, and eventually removed from under my little well-walked feet.
There is no possibility that this will all work out in the end, my dear. Life is not neat. It is knotted and frayed. I like big bold splashes of color on my canvas. And the words that come from the exciting and graphic of experiences are what I crave. I will not tow the path of ordinary convention. Instead, I will emerge as a growing piece of art that will be held in the recesses of a few select men’s hearts.
And what I invest in this connection will be paid back with his lightheartedness, working-class commonsense, and an entry into his fascinating street scene.
This is a practice of non-attachment manifesting as we travel separately both outbound and inbound, checking out of the hotel room at opposing times. It is meant to happen like this. It is honest, grown-up, real and not needy. Never will I rely on the demands, complaints of one man again. The free spirit of my soul has been damaged from its prior encounter.
So, new companion, as you offer me a handful of your French crisps on the rues, share your sugar-free drink on the metro platform, do not think I am blinded by your magnetic allure. I hold on to our travel dreams, seduced by our magnificent temporariness, but not needing, not wanting, nor ever believing again in the permanence of binding myself to a man and being cosseted by him.
My life is a discovery. I hold its reins, and though our moments steam their imprint on our independent souls, they are separate, whole spirits, not defined by the other.
No grand love story to bring home. Instead, there are secretive, exciting tales, with only you and I feeling the scintillating thrills and the nagging teasing of our repartee.
Happiness is the gift to ourselves, when we succeed personally, and only presented at the moments of self-awakening and self-realization. This was all I ever really desired. A sweet, nectar-like, lubricating force to allow me to march on.
Tinged by yellow, blue, red washes, my rebel heart. My greenness also disappearing in the mix. There is no perfect love.
And he says… it is not my love he seeks. And don’t I love too painfully? Scarred and burnt by my last experience? I will not allow my mind to exaggerate, to sugar-coat what it is not. This is a more truthful version, and it suits me.
For, yes, he is only a man, who is as capable, as a woman, of messing up. In modern love, our flaws are magnified, and this is my medicinal solution for these ensuing years.
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Keri France is a sensitive and strong soul, who believes in the power of creativity for personal growth. If you sometimes feel you have been on the brink of success, despair, sadness, Keri has been there too. She believes in creating opportunities for herself, being enriched by experiences, and writing down her thoughts on what she has learned in the process. With a voice-over demo, collection of her own artwork, and now writing, she knows a good life is a creative life.
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