11 March 2007

The Rebirth of Miss Behavin--Part 1

I'm new and improved! *hmm, if something is new, how can it be improved? If it's improved, how can it be new?*

I love blogging, it's cathartic. I can put my deepest, darkest fears and secrets out there, and "vent", or make fun, and if anyone says something I don't like, I can delete them. Or if I'm feeling frisky - which is usually the case - I can eradicate and emasculate with one fell swoop of the keyboard. How much for the "delete" button that works on real people? (10 grand and his name is Guido, but I don' know nuttin' else, I swear!)

Really, wouldn't that be cool? All the people who have caused you pain and heartache, gone with the push of a button, and forever erased from your life and memory. *ok, there's her, and him, and him and him and THEM* All kidding aside, I've long since gotten over wanting to kill a few select people. And I wouldn't wish anyone dead anymore. However, there are still a few that if they just HAPPENED to fall off the face of the Earth, I would do my damndest to look upset and concerned for the appropriate amount of time. :)

Tonight, I have realized that I am finally over the greatest love of my life. (And which of the many might that be, you ask?) ha ha. frickin' fruitloops. THAT might be Captain Crazy.

Captain Crazy, at 6'5, stood nearly 1 1/2 feet taller than I. Not ideal for some things, but much, much fun for others. ;) *ahem, OVER him, remember?* **yes, I remember, but he WAS much fun** *more to it than sex* **much more, but GOD was he FUN**

Capt Crazy was also a driver. We ran for the same company to the same auto plants nearly every night for almost 3 years. He didn't teach me to drive the big truck, but was encouraging when I stepped out to do it. He was the first one I showed my new license! He was one of the Soul Mates. Nah, he was THE soulmate. I'd never believed much in them before then. With an imperceptible nod of the head or an undefined movement of the hand, we communicated. I've never had someone know me so completely. We were both divorced, had "baggage" and we were absolutely the best of friends. Every night when we got done, we'd "find food". Whether down at the truck stop for a burger (which btw are the best at 3a) or at my place for homecooked, we laughed, talked, watched stupid tv just to make fun and just enjoyed the peaceful escape from the rest of the world.

We'd race up from Indianapolis back to the yard 147 mi away. Our personal best was 2 hours 8 min dock to drop. Anyone who drives or has driven a big truck with 44,000 pounds in the box knows this wasn't just speeding, this was fuckin' movin'. From the southwest corner of Indy to the top of the loop was normally a 30 minute drive. We did it in 17. Up I-69 from MM 0 (that's mile marker 0) to MM86 at no less than 75 mph, most times more because we knew which trucks were wide open. My personal best was 96, I never quite could get that thing into triple digits. Capt Crazy had been driving for 20 years, he was good. He handled the truck like a car. Only person I know who's blown a steer (that's tire for all ya'll texans) and kept the truck from goin' over. I learned how to "speed safely" from him. I learned how to be an excellent front door. And the fun we'd have on the radio... priceless. We would fuck with people 'coz we had big radios, and we could. Talk "not dirty" enough that we had other people wanting to join in. We made a lot of friends up and down I 69 and in the auto plants in Kokomo and Indianapolis. We were cool.

Tonight I went to dinner with one of my best friends and her husband. They know Captain Crazy; we all worked together at one time. They were the ones who were there to pick up the pieces and put me back together when he made the choice to re-marry his ex for the kids. And there were a lot of pieces. I was hateful. Which is not me. And it seemed they'd run into him every once in awhile when they're out and about. They saw him just a few days ago, and were telling me he didn't look well, his wife didn't look happy-always walking behind and never together. I told them I could finally say, "I'm done. I'm through and over him." They were thrilled, had been worried about me.

It wasn't easy. It's been 4 years. Long, painful, wrenching, hard years. I loved him as I had no other. He drew me out. Talked to me. Listened to me. Held me. My favorite times would be sitting on my couch wrapped up in his arms while he "patted" my hair. (Hair thing, I'm tellin' ya). He always used to tell me when he saw me I had this little red light goin' on. Or sometimes if I didn't have work, I'd ride along with him and those are some of the safest moments I've ever felt in my life. We'd be cruising along (85 was his cruising speed), tires humming, cb up, fm down so we could listen for bears and just glide. I'd turn and face him in the seat, put my toes under his legs to keep them warm(no shoes in the cab for me in the summertime) and we'd just connect in the dark light of the electronics. There are times when I miss those days. He was the only one I have ever felt so safe with. He knew all my secrets, all my fears, all my games, and he loved me anyway.

And the way we loved... I'd never had a man make my body sing like that before. He had this way of wrapping his legs around me when we were cuddling that just made me feel so protected. And he loved to spoon. :) I was free when we loved. There were no constraints, there were no inhibitions. I could be whoever I wanted with him.

That's what I miss the most. It's no longer him, his kisses or the time. It's the "me" that I was when I was with him. I was beautiful. I FELT beautiful. That's the first thing he'd say when he called. Hi Beautiful. Hi Gorgeous. Without exception. I was a Princess, his Princess, Princess Virginia. I ruled from behind my "wall" that he took down, brick by brick, stone by stone. I was confident. No one could touch me. I had one fuck with me, and it was taken care of. I was safe. Even when we would fight, he was never cruel. He'd just wait out the storm and love me. I could be who I needed to be, say anything, and he was still... there. I know without a doubt, that he loved me deeper than anyone. I know it was "there".

And then it was gone.

Not gone, just pushed aside for something else. The kids were young, they were used in her game, it was something he wasn't prepared to lose. At any cost. The cost was me. Let me tell ya, I come at a high price. He has paid it.

I haven't seen him in nearly 4 years. I don't know what I would do or say if I did. I remember bits and hazy pieces of his features. He had the most piercing blue eyes i've ever seen. I would still know that voice anywhere because I've heard it in my dreams. I've lost that confidence, it's just now resurfacing. I haven't felt beautiful in years. Attractive, occasionally. Safe, no. Still not. There was a fleeting moment this past winter, but he too, walked away. He helped, and there was hope, but the guard was never fully down, so the surprise wasn't there.

So I'm free. My heart is ready to be given. I am ready to be loved. And it's frightening. Not because I'm afraid of starting over... done that too many times. That's the easy part. I can now go to the same places and not feel the heart-ripping heaviness of the memories that consume you in an instant. I can see old faces who remember the "us" and answer questions without tears. I can hold others without thoughts of him making me feel guilty (? I know) or even crossing my mind at all. It is relief beyond measure.

So Miss Behavin has stepped out again. Princess Virginia is no longer. She has truly died at the hands of love. I peek out from behind my wall every so often. I've shared myself with others since then, I've loved and been handed a pile of jagged pieces that once were my heart. But I have every last one of them and they are mine.

So now I'm back. And I've got my game face on. And I'm done. Everyone wants a barbie doll (I don't give a fuck if they say they don't -- give a man a choice between a 30 something who looks like a barbie doll but has no fucking brain or a 30 something with a brain who looks like a chubby little baby doll and it's no contest.) I've seen it, lived it too many times. Their dunlap(as in dun-lapped over their belt), balding asses want the beauty queen. I actually had one guy I had been seeing for about 6 months tell one of his friends, "She's not a model, but she's a beautiful person inside." Is that along the same lines as 'cute like a troll?' Fuck you. It was very shortly after that I ended it. How could I not? That was just prior to Captain Crazy.

I know I'm not perfect. I will never again look as good as I once did. 3 kids have altered the shape of my body. I can look better. I could probably even give barbie a run for her money if I wanted to work that hard. But I prefer Marilyn. She wasn't "dainty". She wasn't lithe and lean. She was all woman. She was sexy. And she was NOT a size 2. She was actually very intelligent, and preferred to surround herself by men of power. (Power is so sexy... if you have the power to make me feel safe, you are SO in.) So I'm going to do my little exercises, practice my best "sexy whisper" voice, toss my hair and see what happens. I liked being sexy and feeling good about myself. Thank you Captain Crazy, for finally setting me free.


Miss B

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