She caught her breath as she lay sprawled on the floor… her head resting against the iron leg of a futon. Why was she on the floor of her daughter’s room at 4 AM? She had managed catch the red-polished big toe of her right foot on the belt loop of a pair of jeans.
Colleen shook her head. Only she could be such a klutz.
She should have turned on the light, but somehow, it was easier to walk around the house in the dark when she was alone. It’s funny, she used to long for quiet time at the house and relished the rare moments when her ex-husband was at work and the children were at school. She still hadn’t become used to spending weekends alone. Since he had moved out, she had begun de-cluttering the 15 years worth of, well, crap, that had accumulated.
The fifteen years of crap that he conveniently left behind.
He had purchased all new items to go with his sleek, hi-rise condo overlooking downtown. The crap hadn’t matched his new décor.
Before she could pick herself up, she felt the breath of her dog, Ingrid on the back of her neck. She wanted to cry, but didn’t. She loved her dog, but did she have to breathe in her owners scent the way a lover would? Because, she may as well face the facts – she’d never get laid again. What man wanted an almost-forty-single-mother with children and a dog?
I found the pull to go to Mass quite strong. Now, I wasn’t as thrilled with the homily of the young priest as I had been the previous visit, but that is the thing about visiting any church - even a Catholic Church where the readings are set. I liked the 2nd reading, actually - it’s one I can take to heart, however, I didn’t like the interpretation of the Priests.
Romans 12, Verse 2: Do not be conformed to this present world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may test and approve what is the will of God – what is good and well-pleasing and perfect.
I am a big believer that we don’t have to conform. In fact, I believe that within your mind is where you have to find the comfort in your life - and get to the space you need. I think that God gives us free will and that finding what the “will of God is” is about being satisfied with where you are in life and what you want from your life. That is free will. That is the will of God. Who wants to be a sheep that only conforms to what society thinks is the right way to behave? Sure, I think we need to know the rules of polite society, but to be satisfied, you have to know when the rules work for you and when they don’t.
By the way, the priests interpretation was that God’s will is found through the Church. I have a feeling that Paul would disagree with the priest and, like me, cling to the words “renewing of your mind” just like I did. For some people, I think always following the rules and never stepping outside of that box is the only way to truly find comfort. For some of us, though, we don’t find comfort until we explore the ways society makes us uncomfortable and find our own path.
Though I am more spiritual than religious, my prayers typically follow the same vein: forgive me of my sins, take care of those I love, and help me find peace within my own heart. I did get what I wanted from Mass, though, which was those peaceful moments, so unlike the rest of my week when it comes to work…..
The glowing red numbers on my digital clock read 6:42. I needed to get out the door in the next ten minutes if I was going to make it to the airport on time. Running late was a huge no-no in the etiquette world I was brought up in. But if I didn’t hurry up, I would be.
My outfit had been carefully planned. Black skirt, white button up blouse, classic black pumps. My long black hair was fresh from the salon: styled to be both straight and curly instead of the frizziness that I seemed to get when I was on my own. My long nails were perfect in their French Manicure and my under things were chosen with extreme care because I was going for that conservative on the outside, naughty on the inside look. White lace bra that lifted me up where my boobs belonged, white lace panties and little white stockings. It was the stockings that were holding me up. They were these lovely things I had been given as a gift. Wolford thigh highs with a four-inch wide lace band….threaded into the lace was yellow ribbons. The stockings had been a gift to me from an old friend (in other words another man). I love beautiful lingerie but hadn’t broken down occasion. I tell you they were a gift because though I love beautiful things, I would never pay $55 for a pair of stockings.
Let’s be honest here, I was dressing so that I could get laid. I had sworn to myself that I was done with fuck buddies. For God’s sake, I wasn’t a twenty-year old college student with a part time job at Barnes and Noble. I was almost forty, owned my own company, and had teenagers.
But if you think about it, I hadn’t had a typical coming of age. When my friends were waking in the rooms of boys they had met at the bar the night before, I was waking up next to my husband in a home we owned. I was living the white picket fence dream, complete with two dogs and a cat. I was already married by the time most girls realized that the Freshman Fifteen was a reality if you lived in the dorm.
But I digress. I was talking about fuck buddies. Friends with Benefits. Whatever it is the kids call them these days. I had experimented in that realm when I was freshly divorced. When the kids were visiting their father, I was going out with girlfriends, drinking at bars like a college kid, and spending some quality time with on-line dating services. That was good for about two months or so when it began to get old. No matter who tells you that Orange is the new Pink and that 40 is the new 20, my body simply couldn’t keep up with the late nights and the drinking. Fortunately for me, I was able to latch on to a couple of dates that morphed into fairly regular dinner and visit to the bedroom.