Last night I lay in my bed. I wore a tee shirt and underwear. The moisture in the air was tangible. It wrapped itself around me like a well fitting blanket, affecting every morsel of my body.
It brought me back to monsoon season in Thailand, laying in bed with my skin quenched of its thirst from growing up in the desert of Los Angeles. I miss Thailand. I miss the person I was in Thailand. Unafraid. Or unaffected by my fears. Caution is the murderer of opportunity.
I lay there waiting for a man to call. He was my new adventure. I hated myself for that. He called. He talked to me about his plan to become a sober living tycoon and retire by the time he was 30. And then buy a sail boat and sail around the world.
He called me the cutest, sweetest, little thing. My heart raced when he said this. But then I resented him for it. The more he spoke the more I realized “Cutest and sweetest” was a synonym for fragile. He told me that I had to adventure more. I resented this statement as well because there was truth in it.
I looked in the mirror that covered the doors to my closet. I made sure there was sex appeal in the way that I lay in the sheets, I have shared with this man, as though he could feel it seeping from the speaker holes in the phone.
He created an urgency in me to become somebody more interesting. Somebody different. My life of big, bold, vibrant color faded as I spoke to him. He made me feel ordinary. As he spoke I felt emotion choking me. I knew he wasn’t right. This made me sad but empowered.
He acted unaware, but I think he understood this.
I sat up and crossed my legs as my body adjusted itself, my breasts orienting themselves, my muscles understanding what I wanted from them. I heard the rain spattering on the windows of the car he was calling me from. He told me he would talk to me tomorrow. It was a quick goodbye.
I woke up and checked my phone as the glow of the blank screen lit up my tired, morning eyes. He had not called. But she had. I called her back and she became my anchor. I ranted with more clarity than I had last night lying in sexy positions for nobody’s eyes but my own. This image is embarrassing but real. I sat up with my white blonde morning hair standing tall as I talked to her. I love her dearly and she loves me. Present tense. She loves me as I am in this very moment writing about a phone call last night that made me feel lost and then another one this morning that made me feel indomitable.