Learning How to Love: Chapter 3



May 3, 2014

Who the fuck knows what love is anyway? I can study it my whole life and still not be a fucking expert yet here I am trying to make sense of it and love someone else. 

If this is going to be my life’s work, if this is going to be what I study and build programs around – this unknown mysterious feeling- then let it fucking kill me as Marie Curie did with her work on radiation! 

Let it consume my life so I can write about heartbreak and moving the fuck on. But honestly Universe, can you send some nice lovers my way? I’m really sick of this whole “love” thing. I just want to fuck around and have a good time. Can you do that Universe? Can you…please?

June 9, 2013

After spending a whole night with a cute guy I couldn’t kiss, I decided it was a great idea to hang out again. This time, thankfully, we made plans to hang out in daylight. It’s never sunny in Arcata, but that day, it was bright, beautiful and charmingly quiet.

“So, how long have you and your boyfriend been together?”

“Since last Summer kinda. He didn’t ask me to be his girlfriend until Fall, but he had already moved 700 miles away. We’ve broken up a few times. It’s weird.”

“How’s it weird? Seems like you and your boyfriend have a trusting relationship.”

“It’s weird because I don’t believe in Love the way he does. He pictures us as a family like I’m supposed to be this wife who creates these perfect little good children and we live in this big house and it’s gotta white-picket-fence n’ shit. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to be all that.”

Mr. Mariposa and I walked from the school campus to a nearby neighborhood park. I had walked through this same park the first night me and Mr. Money hung out. We were leaving his place, drunk and high and he insisted on walking me home. He tried to kiss me here, at this park, but I gave him the cheek. He was a nice guy and all, but I didn’t wanna kiss him. It wasn’t a sexy moment. Now, I’m here with a sexy guy, really wanting to kiss him. The irony never fails.

We decide to sit in this park and drink the rest of the Stellas from the night before. It’s broad daylight and we’re at a kid’s park. Nothing wrong here, right?

He continues to ask about my relationship. I think he’s curious about why I feel the way I feel when I’m around him.

“You know, Mr. Mariposa I just think you’re easy to talk to and I feel like you get me.”

“What’s there not to get? You’re an intellectual. I feel like you get me, too.”

“So, what’s your deal? Are you seeing anyone?”

“It’s complicated. There’s a girl. But she has cold feet. We tried getting together before the year ended but it wasn’t the right time. We said we’d try again when she moves back.”

“I get that. The story sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, so earlier you said you and your boyfriend keep breaking up. Don’t you get tired of the on and off? I had a relationship like that in high school. It’s kinda exhausting.”

“You don’t say! It’s fucking ridiculous. Why can’t we make up our minds? I don’t know. I don’t think we’re meant to be. He says we’re soul mates, but I believe a person has multiple loves throughout their lifetime. I don’t believe in a one-size-fits-all type of Love. I don’t know about Love…”

July 13, 2013

The cool thing about staying in Arcata over the summer is that the campus is virtually uninhabited. Plus working for the Housing + Dining department has its perks. I get to live on campus for the summer for FREE! But I do have to work nights and be on-call for 24-48 hours every other week. Just a small price to pay to live rent-free and steps away from the Redwood Forest.

It’s 8 PM and Mr. Mariposa is late, per usual. But he shows up with a blanket, some snacks, and that legendary beam I’m so fond of. I wasn’t expecting to see him again so soon. Especially after I cheated on my boyfriend with him. Plus, my boyfriend and I hadn’t actually broken up. I just sent him a text, which is hella shady. But I didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to stargaze in a deserted football stadium. I pushed my guilty feelings way back into my amygdala hoping that it comes up with a neat way of processing all this shame someday later. But not today. Today, I’m going on a date.

You’d think summers would be nice anywhere in California, right? Wrong. Not in Arcata. Arcata is mostly foggy and wet. Mostly always wet. The Redwood Bowl serves as a sweet escape for the night, but it does not come cheap. The night is cold and the grass has small surprise puddles. Mr. Mariposa and I don’t care. While the Earth is wet and full of last morning’s dewy elements, the sky is a paradise for stars.

We find a patch that’s decent enough to sit on, and we lay the blanket down. Even though I devoured his face the night before, I still sit away from him, hoping to keep my distance and focus on the conversation, not my feelings. One thing Freud got right was that arguments stemming from logic are weak when pitted against human passions and desires. As it gets colder, we’re forced to sit closer to one another and I’m face to face with a charming brown boy.

 Fortunately, the electric conversation between us generates some heat. In between talking about views on humanity and navigating the world as brown people, we make time to laugh. He asks me if I’m ticklish and I coyly say no. He decides to test it out and slowly brushes his fingers down the length of my back. I hold in my laugh and smile through the pain. He inches toward my side, the epicenter of all things ticklish and I explode with laughter. He goes in for the kill and starts tickling my sides, setting off my defensive pushes and shoves. Somehow, my leg wraps around his. His warmth sends shivers up and down my spine.

I lay on the ground to get a good look at the stars. I’m not even sure when the meteor shower is supposed to appear. I’ve never seen a meteor shower, so I don’t know what I’m looking for. Suddenly, Mr. Mariposa pounces on me and squared his arms between mine. Leans forward with his whole body, presses it against mine and lets his lips do the rest of the talking. He consumes me; engulfing my body with his hands, touching every inch of this heavenly body and letting me know that he’s down for more than just a kiss. Not even the stars feel this beautiful.

I felt like I was in the opening scene from Charles Baxter’s The Feast of Love. Two young kids making love on the football field. Wild and free. We weren’t making love, but I wish we were. I’d been dreaming about this kind of romantic shit my whole life. I held his face as he kissed me and moved my hands down his back ending up with a hand full of cute-boy-ass. Indeed, this was a feast of love.

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The Ballad of Leo Man

Now this is not a story told
But a story which will unfold
A story of how I came to be
So lonely and un-betrothed
It is a story about how I gave my soul
To a Leo Man, so bitter and cold

A Leo Man once came to me
And asked what my favorite bands were
I knew not then, what fuckboys meant
But he was that, I’m sure
Or perhaps, that he was not
Maybe, he was just a jerk

He took an interest in me
When no one else had asked
And made me feel, my heart of steel
As if we were to last
Yet he and I were brief in time
Of which I’m really glad

I had never seen a Man before
Who looked into my eyes
With such an interest in loving me
I almost believed his lies
He found my soul where Heaven meets Hell
Exactly where he also hides

I fell for him, I fell for it
I fell for the love that he so admitted
Not through his words
But undoubtedly through his actions
See I thought he knew what it meant
To give love without regret

And love he did, he loved so much
He loved me, and her and her
What an awful way to love me dear
Caressing me and then fucking her

I knew not then what love really meant
But it wasn’t him; I’m sure

O, but how I wish he would see
That love is something you do
Even though his words did not say
He knew exactly who loved who
Even though a lover’s role you only played
I gave my all to you
…Love is something you do

O, Leo Man, how I wish you would see
The ripples in which you create
You cast your stone so far in my water
I thought we could relate
Unbeknownst to you, you appeared
To me to be a desirable mate

I thought of you to be my match
A soul mate so to speak
A poet like me, same music as me
Even our outfits were on fleek
But your heart showed something strange
A barren land so lonely and bleak

I knew not then what evaporating man meant
But you were just that
I filled you up with my words of water
Only I, never to be filled back
And when water was of scarcity
You, too, were in lack

To which my conclusion still remains
That you were not a Man indeed
Instead a boy who thought he could love
A Scorpio Woman like me
But I was not raised by fools
For players only love you partially

Except, like any Bitch I was loyal
To a Leo Man who gave me nothing
And I, a humble human being
Only asked for romantic loving
But that was too much to ask
From a boy that only wanted one thing

Shame on you to lead on a dream
A dream of just me and you
And promise the world at my feet
And turn around and be untrue
You weren’t my man, you weren’t my partner
But damn – I wanted it to be you

It would have never worked out
Between us two I am too much a Woman
For a coward like you
I am a Goddess
And You…are just You

Who are you to Control me?
What Power do you yield over I?
Is it because you’re a Leo Man?
Or because I’m a Prize?
A prize too good for a Loser Like you
I think it’s the latter this time

Do not think for any second
That I am yours because I intimately bind
For I am my own kind of Woman
Not the subservient kind
And even if I was the submissive type
I’m not one to be two-timed

I will not be tame for anyone
Not him, nor her, nor you
Just ask the men who have come before
Ask the men if I would lose
Ask the men if I would give my right
To choose what I’d like to choose

I love who I love without question
It is something none can control
And you, Leo man, don’t understand
That I do not live in your world
And in this world of mine
You only play a lover’s role

Love is something you do
Not just something in which you say
A heart is not a novelty prize
Love is not a one player game
My body was not your playground
Yet you made it that way, anyway

He picked me up on the night of a Full Moon
The Doors played aloud as we cruised
Cool summer air brushed my face
On the boulevards towards Hollywood
And Leo Man held my hand as he sang
The lyrics to “Roadhouse Blues”

Jack and Coke for him,
Ginger Ale and Jameson for myself
Surrounded by a dozen nobody’s
In a Bar in Downtown Hell
But they played our favorite tunes
And he poured lust into my every cell

I hardly remember any words that were said
Sometimes communication is no words at all
I only remember the things that we did
And boy, did we do them all
Rock music from the 1970’s played
And we danced to it all

He pushed me up against the bar’s velvet wall
And dove deep into my neck
A kiss so passionate and sweet
He left me dripping wet
My neck a burial ground
For all of the affection that he left

Then we walked intoxicated in the street in sync
And dressed in all black
A true romantic man to me
We even shared the same beer can
From there we smoked our Jays
And we laughed and laughed

Leo Man shared lines with me
and together we both created
from what we love deep and proud
we wrote poetry inebriated
Drunk off love and lust we sat
Together, effortlessly elated

And with these last lines you’ll see
What a Leo Man once meant to me
For even though we aren’t betrothed
He’s buried in my poetry
The highest honor this poet can give
To the Man who broke her emotionally

(c) LolaLaPoeta