, , , , , , , , , , ,

You don’t know what you are missing.

I don’t know what you are up to, maybe you are just not ready for me yet, or maybe somehow I’m not quite ready for you.

But what I can tell you for sure is,

I’m not waiting for you anymore.

Yes, I am a little bit mad and sad and bent out of shape to be alone on Valentine’s Day, again.

But I am mostly very happy and pleased and peaceful, having spent the day with old friends and new, brunching, drinking mimosas, playing Cards Against Humanity, and watching The Walking Dead.

If you had been around, I guess I would not have had the chance to do it, or a bit less of that.

If you had been here, I hope we would have been having creative and intimate sex a fair portion of the time, maybe not left my apartment till dinner, and then had a fabulous meal in some fancy restaurant where I would have wound pearls around my neck to distract from the hickies or would have been obliged to wear a high cut top.

Or maybe we would have been camping somewhere under the stars, or on our way to Antarctica, or away for a weekend seeing a new city together, or somewhere we’d never been before together, or maybe you would take me to your favorite corner of the world.

All this is hypothetical, of course.

But what is not hypothetical is that I am not waiting around for you anymore, not another minute, not another day, and I haven’t for a while.

If I have the money to buy an apartment in Paris and it feels like the wrong time and you haven’t shown up yet, well tough nuggets. My dream is going to come true without you.

If some dude knocks me up, and I know for a fact he ain’t you, you’ll have to just accept that I’ll become a mother without you.

I am not going to waste a single sunset or a single breath waiting for you. I am going to go do all those things I would have wanted to do with you, with or without you, because it’s my life, with or without you.

If I get the chance to get to all seven continents and you’re not going to make it to the last one with me, o well.

If you won’t be there to cheer me on when I get that big promotion or wait for me at the finish line of my big race, so what.

I say this all in such a flippant tone, and yes, I really am hurting inside, I am angry, I am appalled at the universe because sometimes it gets hard to keep the faith.

There have been a lot of things you haven’t been around for. Sometimes I think there are a lot of messes I wouldn’t have gotten into if you hadn’t been around.

But yeah, it’s not all your fault, is it?

If you had the choice, would you choose to prolong having me for as many breaths as you could?

ANd will our love really last forever?

I sure hope so.

All I can say, love, is that if you don’t show up, or if you don’t show up in the way I hope for, I will miss you, a lot.

I do miss you now.

But my life is beautiful, has been beautiful, will be beautiful.

There will be no missing ingredient without you.

My life doesn’t need you to make sense.

I hope to see you soon, but you better treat me like the princess I am when you come around.

I had you mistaken for some clowns in the past, but I won’t make that mistake again.

You better come no less than blazing in on a white horse, no less dashing than making me weak at the knees with your smile, no less witty than making me double over in silent, painful laughter when I remember your jokes a week later, no less of a man than a hero I tell tales about because I am so proud of how kind and good and honest you are.

If you are anything less than that, you will not be my love.

I have let many sideshow attractions take the center stage of my life, for the drama of it all, because I was afraid of silence.

Not any more.

This is my 8th Valentine’s Day with no chouchou to show for it, and it might just be the best.


Because I”m not waiting for you anymore.

Now I am afraid of being so soft and gentle that I settle and accept anything, and also of being so closed and tough and jaded I can’t let anyone in.

I really do want you to show up, and I want to be able to show up for you.

But it’s going to be Big Love or nothing at all.

You better be larger than life, and worth the space you take up on the stage.

No, nothing but a hero of the ages will do.

If you are anything less than that, stay away.

You can be human, of course, that is completely allowed.

You can be flawed, even tragically.

You can be a bit of a pain in the ass and a piece of work.

But damn, you better BE somebody.

A man of character.

Classy and strong and sweet.

I may make some more poor judgments before finding you, though I hope not. I hope not to succumb to the pool of drama and afraid of the seeming vacuum in my heart.

But ther e is no wasted space, and the abence of you and of lesser immitations is fulfilling in its own way.

Your space has been marked.

I do pray you will take your spot soon, that we will drive off into the sunset.

But eve more than that, I wish myself every happiness, with and without you.

So please, come and get me.

I am not waiting for you anymore, but I’ll wager you are worth the wait.

And every lonely tear, every beautiful place I”ve seen without you there to share it with, every awkward moment, every raw desire you couldn’t fulfill, every secret of my body that goes unshared, every daydream that goes for the moment unrealized, will be satisfied.

And you will be a great thing among many great things that has ever happened to me.

You may change the gravitational pull of my universe and bend every part of me towards you.

But baby, the stars are still shining, the birds are still singing, the evening is soft and sweet without you.

You will never be the center of my universe; Romantic love is no longer my false god.

You get to be a man, you don’t hve to stay on that pedestal;

but honey, you better impress me, and be a really, really good man.

So yes sweetheart, I am not going to beg and beseech you to come-

call it pride, call it fear-

but I am going to tell you, hurry up,

Join in the dance.

I will be happy to see you here.


Namaste and big hugs and bisous to everyone today.