you must be out of your mind

A friend and a good soul I know has a very lovely habit. She uses a lot of caveats and likes to provide a lot of context for what she says, the stories she tells, and the situations she reveals. I really like this about her. We jive on it. Probably because I do it, too. I am entangled in background and context. There is nothing I love more than a good story from anyone.

We were laughing about the caveats and how being a partner to each of us must be interesting. So much wind up before the pitch. All the information that precedes "getting to the point." She said something I will always remember her for. We were acknowledging this tick, and she said:

"It's really more of a third date habit."

I had a wonderful mental collision as these words became a thought. The truths we don't share about our peculiar selves until we are--I am--the smallest bit certain there's a chance we'll not be pushed back into the tiny plastic musical chair. It's like the, "I'll let you see me naked" of the less primal us. And when it gets right down to it, this is the part that matters when it comes to any kind of union. Not the imperfections in flesh. I could describe to you everything about me that is physical and someone, somewhere would tell me how those folds and shadows are beautiful. There's a fetish in all of us that loves the unsymmetrical. The freckles. The too small this and the too big that. Because people are like that. That is why they are amazing. We even pride ourselves on the things we seek that are singular in their attraction.

But let me tell you about my temper. It is red. My jackass-ery; significant. My insecurities manifested with specific rules and codes of conduct that you didn't know you were participating in, but you are. Didn't you know you were supposed to be this way?

I cancel plans. I make excuses that are not about me but are about some unforeseen circumstance that never could have possibly happened unless it was fate. Not lies, but bundled truths. And other things. Complicated "I am so very sorry" for everything upon everything. Let's top it all off with this:

I hate this in other people. I hate games. Pot. Kettle.

The most wonderful thing about living in a world with other people is that they understand what all this means. Like the person I told you about, who started all of this. Women and men and parents, we are all at least one of them and they all behave like this. When we are trying to make that match with another soul, a beam out there, and when we get it right, these body-less flaws melt into everything else. You're not good with money? I didn't hear you say that. I'm tangled up already.

Forgiveness.

Acceptance.

Love.

Pot. Kettle. We both. We are.

The lifetime before me is filled with our curious strangeness. So many third dates and mixes from the song I want you to hear.