Paula Tracey
A Tarnished Southern Belle

I’m frustrated when it comes to relationships with men.    There are all these mixed signals about what they want….and am debating about just taking a break from even trying.  When I mentioned that to a guy I correspond with, he laughed and suggested I could trythe other team, and of course, I told him :  I have in the past.

Women are different from men, obviously.  I had often found women appealing, but didn’t venture there until almost a year after my divorce.  It was really about exploration then - playing with a girl to see if I liked it - participating in a threesome.  I even had a regular girlfriend for a bit - a woman that I became close friends with who ended up being a part time lover.  We both still saw men, though, and participated in a couple of threesomes together.  But the underlying attraction between the two of us was there.  It was never love - the relationships with the men were priority - but there was attraction and (much) affection.

It was my first Thanksgiving alone, though, that I realized that I could be in a real relationship with a woman.

I had been introduced to Lily through another girfriend of mine.  We hit it off, corresponded, and she invited me to her home in Florida for the Thanksgiving holidays.  It was the second Thanksgiving after my divorce…and the first one without my children.  She offered me a spare room at her home, but we ended up sharing hers the entire trip.   After breakfast in her snug little kitchen…reading the paper and sharing coffee and yogurt and toast…I relaxed enough in myself to realize that the relationship between us wasn’t about just the chance at experimentation of playing with the same sex, but about more.  And though Lily wasn’t a long term girl for me, our time together taught me that it was more about the chemistry and feelings of two people.  I was good with the one-on-one relationship with a woman - without a man having to be involved.

My preference is, of course, men still.  There is nothing like sex with a man (though, of course, there is nothing like sex with a woman, either!)   When I am looking at potential relationships, though, I still look first to men.  But I wouldn’t turn down a potentially right woman….

It took a long time, but after trying to make things work out with “The Boy”, I finally realized that the issue of our relationship wasn’t me. It was him. (yes, I know it takes two.  I know it isn’t all him.  But I finally realized that it wasn’t all ME.)

It’s funny how we get things ingrained in our minds. For my entire marriage, nothing I ever did was good enough for my husband and after almost four years of a quasi-relationship with a man I did do love, I had determined that I wanted – no needed – more than the relationship was giving me. Though my friends advised me, I accepted his request to visit. I did my best to make it clear to him that this was a “last chance” to see if it could work.  And I admit that he DID try.  He was on time, he had a cold bottle of water waiting for me, he said “thank you” at the appropriate times.  But he also didn’t recognize the sacrifices I made to be there.   thought I was clear - very clear - about what I both needed and wanted - he seemed to forget much of it.   It’s good that I went, though.  It didn’t give me closure so to speak, but it did help me with the perspective.

Contrast that with this morning.

I am in Connecticut visiting NYG.  He is more than gracious and both shows me and tells me that he appreciates me.  Almost the first words out of his mouth this morning are “you look beautiful this morning”.  I am sitting on his couch with the golden autumn outside the patio door as he sleeps a little more.  The walls are covered with art - mostly photos he has taken.  He has made me feel welcome - and at home.

I have no clue where this is going to go at all, but it’s comfortable in many ways.  And that’s a very good thing for me.

I am still pretty blocked up in a lot of ways.  I try to write but the words just don’t flow like they used to.  But I feel them beginning to loosen up.   I am breathing…nice and cleansing breaths that go down to my stomach instead of the shallow throat breathing I was doing a couple of weeks ago.  I think that’s more the relief of phase one of the work stuff being completed and a bit of a break before phase two begins.

I think that’s it for now.  I’m going to fix a fresh cup of coffee and go out on the patio and feel the cold air and smell autumn.

Last night was the full moon and I was feeling the affects before and after… Emotional, moody, etc.

I’ve not reached a full conclusion about The Boy other than I think it’s time to move on.  It’s hard because I love him, but I am worth more than this.  I need my own needs met and not to always meet others.

I had dinner on Sunday as well as tonight with a gent that I have known for two years.  Lets call him NYG (New York Guy) ’cause he is from New York, though he now lives in Connecticut.  I have had a business relationship in the past but his personal situation has changed and we decided to start fresh.  Sunday was a fun dinner, then we grabbed a cab to visit my favorite memorial - Lincoln.  He had never been there and there is something just so magical about visiting at night, especially with the moon almost full.  We walked along for a bit, to the Vietnam Memorial and then grabbed a cab back so that I could be dropped at my hotel and he could go to his.  Tonight, we had dinner at a wonderful Tuscan restraunt - shared dinner, a bottle of wine, cappucinos and dessert and lots of conversation.  There was some nice kissing in the cab and then he behaved as a gentleman and dropped me at my hotel.

We shall see where it goes.

The Major is still in the picture.  We have plans for a late dinner on Friday and breakfast on Saturday…..

I am glad, by the way, that the full moon is over and hope that after the fall equinox, it will be much smoother.

Last month, I pondered on the status of my relationship with The Boy.  Last night was our planned evening in DC and we basically slept and had dinner and then slept.

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Tomorrow is the 7th Anniversary of 9/11.

I haven’t forgotten the day in any way, however, I had forgotten…that it was so close.

This morning as I was struggling with a sipping a cup of coffee and comprehending the newspaper, it hit me.  That’s why I have been so incredibly blue - this unexplained artifically inflated sadness.  Trust me, I was getting tired of my emotional self. (more…)

My hotel room is evidence of my thoughts being scattered a bit this week.  The pinstripe jacket to the suit from yesterday is resting on the back of the desk chair and the suit I wore today is carelessly tossed across the back of the easy chair next to my bed.  My bra is hanging on the door to the armoire.   There is one pair of shoes by the door and another pair of shoes by the window.  I am in disarray.

I am also incredibly tired, but because the day was much too intense and busy, I am exhausted but not sleepy.   I had one of those days, days where an eighteen-hour bra would have failed.  I was up at 5:30, out of the hotel by 7:15 AM and not back until after 7 PM.  Starved, I finally had dinner about 8 PM.  As far as the not sleepy part, in the past, I would have turned to a glass of wine (or two) to get me buzzed enough to be sleepy, but in all honesty, I have no desire to wake with a wine headache and I do have another full day tomorrow.

At dinner, though, I did have a cocktail.  A perfectly blended, perfectly chilled oh-please-may-I-savor-you White Knight: “Vodka, Cointreau, White Cranberries and crushed Limes together to form a more perfect union”.  I wanted a second because it was just so incredibly yummy, but was afraid I’d fall asleep at the table.

I want to remember that tonight I talked to Scout, who is an old-flame/client of sorts who, after more than a year of not “seeing each other in that way” had sent me a text the other night telling me he’d like to see me because he misses me.  We had dinner a several months back (June?) and we talked.  I think what he misses is talking to me because in so many ways, I am non-judgmental.   Not quote sure about this, but I can guarantee you that it will not end with what he may hope. I am more than willing to have dinner with him, but he needs to understand that it doesn’t go beyond the hotel lobby.

I also talked to The Major this afternoon.  I have forgotten how to date.  We are working on dinner tomorrow night so that we can see each other before I go back home.

I really must turn off the lights.  Please forgive the rambles as it is where I am tonight with my scattered thoughts when I should be sleeping.

I really need to get into the office early this morning.  Every single one of my technical guys are early birds, arriving in by 7 AM.  If I can get work disseminated to them earlier, I feel better about how I am managing this project.  I’ve tried doing it later in the evenings via email, but either they (a) go ahead and finish before they go to bed or (b) seem to ignore the email til I get there.

What I want to do is sit here and write.   The room is cool enough that I need to wear my light robe over the thin black negligee that I sleep in.  I have this fresh cup of organic coffee with just the right amount of cream and splenda.  I have the drapes slightly open, but the sheers still drawn, and can turn slightly to the left and watch the waking bustle of DC as it comes more awake.  I’m at street level this week, which I thought would bother me, but in all hoensty is incredibly cool.

It’s also the perfect climate to climb into bed and linger…the sheets are slightly cool to the touch, but a few moments of snuggling under the layers of sheet and thin down duvet provide just the right amount of toastiness to cuddle and caress me.  It’s soothing - the butter yellow paint of the walls in this twilight.

I also have the Washington Post just sitting there on the foot of the bed, next to my breakfast tray.  It’s fresh and unopened….just waiting for me to thumb through to glance at the headlines on the front of each section, scramble through and pull out the classifieds and the sports to put them into the trash.  The other sections are waiting to be read, knowing that I won’t have time to read each and every article - but each section is hopeful that the headline of their little piece will entice my curiosity enough to do more than scan.  the New York Times is there as well.  But it isn’t as hopeful.  It knows that I consider it second, as the Times is a tad too liberal for my tastes.

I believe the second half of my bran muffin is wondering if it’s going to make it’s way into my tummy soon - or if it will lay there, uneaten.  I’m thinking it may get wrapped in plastic and just be saved for tomorrow morning, or a late night nosh.

and then there is my suit.  It’s calling to me louder than The Post, The Times, or my muffin.  I laid it out on the bed when I thumbed through the (very few) clothes I have left in the armoire.  A huge chunk of my clothes are in the cleaners.

I was up too late.  The Major (more about him later) came over last night when he was done with class, just for a little while.  He said he had missed my face and wanted to tuck me in.  Of course, after he left, I was wide awake.  I don’t know quite what to feel about him yet.  I know that I like his company and it feels right when he is holding me.   It was what he did the first moments of being here - nothing but holding onto me and hugging on me.  Even though I could feel his desire and his urgency, he took it slowly and I was surprised slightly by the mix of the fierceness in his embrace with the tenderness in which his hands held me.  There is something different about sex with him, in that it isn’t as if he is just fucking me.  It’s like his embrace when he first got here - this mix of making love while fucking - the tenderness with the strength and power….the kissing and the way he pauses to smooth back the hair from my eyes or the way his hand cups my chin as he gazes into my eyes.

I hadn’t really intended to write about him this morning as the morning twilight begins to fade and the sun washes over the city, but I had decided when I started here that I was going to write what I felt at the moment - no major censoring, no hiding of relationships, no holding back if something was really on my mind, dying to make it’s way to the paper.  I guess it shows us that at times, we can’t quite control where our muse takes us, as we begin to let the words flow from my fingers and onto the page.  My muse was quiet for so long that I don’t want to scare him into retreating again, so I will allow this stream of consciousness flow here and keep my subject only when necessary.

Sigh.  I truly have more to say, but my coffee cup is empty and my suit is calling a bit louder to me as it’s almost time for me to walk out the door if I am to get in early.  Hopefully my morning will give me some time to steal away from work and make it’s way back here.

Happy Wednesday.

Part of my reading the other day was in relation to the men in my life.  The Boy, specifically, has been, of course, on my mind, however, I know deep in my heart he is, long term, not “the one”.  He is, honestly, a convenience.  In the past, I was able to use him as an excuse to my ex for traveling when I had my old business - and as an excuse to clients who tried to get too close to me, as I had a “boyfriend”.  He is a boy and he is a friend, but he is not, at least at this moment, a true boyfriend.  But I digress.

The guides present in my reading told me that this trip to Tucson wouldn’t be the best - that I could salvage parts of hit, however, to be well aware that no matter what, I would leave somewhat unsatisfied in some way.  I debated up until Friday night around 10 PM before I decided whether to go or not….and I didn’t pack until Saturday morning.

Most of the trip did leave me satisfied, but of course, not all….   We bummed around all afternoon, spent some time relaxing with each other - he took care of what I needed sexually - and held me while I slept.  We also talked last night, in depth, about something that has been bothering him with an old friend - and it told me why I was supposed to be on this trip, so that I could rub his back while he got off his chest about having to step away from a guy he’s known for 15 years - someone who has been a closer friend.  He didn’t start to do the whole emotional withdrawal thing until this morning when we got up.

I was expecting it, though, so I was emotionally ready.  He and I have talked too much about the whole state of our relationship this last week for me not to be prepared…and my instincts as well as the advice from my girlfriend, Lee and my advice in my reading….  Stepping back and away is a good thing for me.  I’ll see him the week of September 11th in DC - we have reservations for dinner and such…between now and then, though, I need to step back and put my emotional energy into work - and my writing.

It doesn’t hurt my heart like I thought it would.  Maybe, there are only so many tears and heartache you can have for one man in your life, and after that….you just don’t feel it.

so, I did get what I needed yesterday.  He did make sure of that.  A part of me is sad for HIM though because he is so…deepdown…unable to accept or give love.

Life is much too short for that.

I had this amazing day today.  I missed the 8 AM Mass at St. Patricks, however, I made the 10 AM Mass.  It was only 4 blocks away from the hotel - an old, lovely church.  Small, beautiful stained glass windows everywhere.

Then, I had a blind date of sorts that turned out to be amazing.  We went to brunch as a starter….then he was the perfect gentleman and offered me his arm as we strolled down the street.  Portrait Gallery. Then this amazing and relaxing afternoon…then dinner before he had to drive back to Quantico.  We made plans to do something a week from Friday for sure - and hopefully this week before I head back home…

Am exhausted and heading to bed.  But I wanted to write pieces of this down before I forget what an amazing day I had…

I’m back to listening to country most of the time.  The Wreckers are on my Itunes a lot lately….and I find myself wondering how writers of songs are able to put so few words together and create such a picture in your mind.  Though it has it’s critics, the roots of Country music are rooted in the every day of life.  When I picked the song “songs about me” for my category, the lyrics were important:  “songs about loving and living and good hearted women and family and God” as well as “songs about scars and cars and broken hearts”.

But the lyrics of various songs make me…wonder….about the people behind the songs.  What a writer has lived before he or she came up with the lyrics.  Writers, you see, I think, are better if they have lived a little bit of life.

I haven’t done any writing, but one particular novel has been playing in my head.  I am in that woolgathering stage, though, to be honest, the bulk of my research - living of some lifestyle - has been done.  I am fortunate enough to chat with many writers about how they write, and for this particular arc, I would say I’ve done the front-loaded research.  Now to just get it on paper and in a loose enough format to try and workshop it.

Stand Still, Look Pretty

I want to paint my face
and pretend that I am someone else
Sometimes I get so fed up
I don’t even wanna look at myself

But people have problems that are worse than mine
I don’t want you to think I’m complaining all the time
And I hate the way you look at me I have to say
I wish I could start over

(Chorus;)
I am slowly falling apart
I wish you’d take a walk in my shoes for a start
And you might think its easy being me
You just stand still, look pretty

Sometimes I find myself shaking
in the middle of the night
And then it hits me and I can’t
even believe this is my life

But people have problems that are worse than mine
I don’t want you to think I’m complaining all the time
And I wish that everyone would go an shut their mouth
I’m not strong enough to deal with it

That, by the way, is a perfect song for mid-way through where my character will be.  Because, as any good heroine should know, there are moments of falling apart….sometimes into lots of little pieces, before you can pick up and rebuild it.

On a different side of the page, though, is MY life, not the life of characters in my  head. Sometimes, it is seeming like a country song - which, cannot, in all honesty be a good thing.  I love men.  I do.  but I am struggling with the wants of wanting and needing - and not wanting.   At times, I am wanting a little more in my life than what I have in the world of men in my life, especially “the Boy”.   But when I think on it, I know  that he fulfills only a very small number of my needs.  He is an easy fallback for some of my needs, though, because he fills them well

It came down to a textual discussion this week…to discussed the status where this thing we call a relationship is.  He calls it friends, but it isn’t my definition of friends.  However, he wants it where it stands now…and “can’t do more than that right now”.  I told him that I always want him sexually, but when it comes to emotionally, it is where I fail.  I love him.  I do.  But the in-love part isn’t there because he doesn’t meet the needs of I have for a partner in the sense of giving and taking.

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