See, the thing is... I'm changing.
Or becoming myself again.
Or something somewhere in between.
Whatever it is that's going on, I'm pretty sure it's good.
But man, its taking a lot of tears to get there.
I grew up with this idea that -- you don't cry. I've only seen my own mother cry a handful of times. And whenever she did, you knew it was something REALLY horrible. In fact, when she did cry, my dad would say, "Well, now you've done it. You made your mother cry."
I've come to think that this really did me a disservice. It elevates crying to some pedestal where it doesn't belong. And seems to limit tears to pain and grief. The more I cry, the more I get to discover tears that are not just a part of pain and grief. Tears, of course, can be a part of joy and gratitude.
I'm still crying. A lot.
"I'm laughing on the outside, but my smile is only skin deep. If you could see inside, I've really cried. You might join me for a weep."
-- The Joker, Batman
I often wonder what I would do if someone actually joined me for a weep. Would I even be able to cry with them?
I remember when I cried at my father's funeral. I called my best friend ahead of time and told her I was going to cry and asked her if she would be sure to leave me alone and just "let" me cry. Not surprisingly, she did. I neglected to inform my family members of my agenda, however, so my mother and one of my brothers - two people I have hardly ever see cry - rushed to my side as I knelt by my father's casket and wept. I felt so uncomfortable, I immediately (and I mean immediately) stopped crying.
It took me years to "finish" that cry. I don't actually know when I finished it. I just know I have. Because I no longer cry about my father's DEATH. If I cry about my father now, it's simply because of how much I MISS him. Earlier today, I imagined what I would feel like if I suddenly got to see him again and I immediately started to weep because I felt so happy even thinking about it. My, how I miss him.
I suspect people who know me (outside of the blogosphere) might be surprised by how much I cry. How sad I can get. How many times I feel lonely.
I have lots of friends. And people tell me I have a perceived social ease. But you know, whaddya gonna do.
I'm not pretending when I laugh or smile, of course. That's not it.
The other day I shared something with a colleague - a tragic and painful event. As I was telling him part of my story, I saw sympathy in his face. And so I laughed. And made a joke. Seeing the pain on his face and the sympathy he was extending felt painful. Actually, seeing his sympathy made me realize that the story I was telling was painful. And I didn't want to feel that. Sometimes, I just don't want to FEEL. So I laugh. Feeling self-conscious about my coping mechanism, I simply acknowledged it to him and asked him to understand that sometimes the way I cope is by laughing.
At a recent appointment with my doctor, she asked me if something hurt. I said, "No, it tickles." She said, "Ah, but feeling ticklish usually precedes the pain - at least in the kind of work I'm doing."
Perhaps that's the the way it works for me, too.
If feeling ticklish (laughter) can precede the pain, what does feeling the pain precede?
I, for one, am hoping for joy.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
So Much Bigger Than Me
Another year. Another year to add to the number of years since Richard and I split up.
I've been reflecting on where I was when that happened and when I thought about it, I finally felt angry. Angry in a way I'd not been before. Like, I thought about what Richard did and I was pissed. Not even at him but more like, "What the hell?" You don't DO that. You don't beat somebody up. You don't.
It's kind of hard to explain but I feel like I finally processed the reality of how wrong his actions were. I think I'd been feeling, in some way, responsible for the whole thing. (And, who am I kidding, I'll probably struggle with it again at some point.) I'd felt angry before but it had been about the ways he'd treated me during our marriage. I had been angry about not being treated the way I deserved. Blah blah blah. I was pissed about that for a long time. And I was sad that the relationship didn't work.
But now I realize -- who cares whether I was married to this guy or not. He got physically angry with me and TOTALLY crossed the line. So, my "what the hell?" is very specifically about his behavior. I can see that regardless of whether or not he was my husband and regardless of what issues he has (because we all have issues), and/or regardless of whatever I may have "done" to him (because none of us are perfect) you DON'T do that to someone. He shouldn't have done that. You don't do that to another human being. The fact that I was his wife and supposedly someone he loved and someone to whom he claimed he wanted to stay married makes it all the more twisted.
And just as I am seeing his behavior for what it was, I'm BEGINNING (emphasis on beginning, obviously) to turn my head also toward my own behavior and see it for what it was. Namely, even if -I- had beaten -Richard-, his correct response would have been to get River out of there--not to hit me. And I'm beginning to realize -- that is PRECISELY what I did! I didn't respond with violence. I got River out of there (once I was physically able). Huh. At some point, I'm gonna have to acknowledge that. I can at least acknowledge that God was obviously with me and helped me to do that - and has continued to help me with everything else along the way.
I've got to make room for this feeling
so much bigger than me
It couldn't be any more beautiful - I can't take it in.
Just as I was told my shoulder is in good shape, some people in my life are telling me that I'm in good shape. That's hard to take in but I am feeling better. Weird. But it does feel good to be moving on!
I've been reflecting on where I was when that happened and when I thought about it, I finally felt angry. Angry in a way I'd not been before. Like, I thought about what Richard did and I was pissed. Not even at him but more like, "What the hell?" You don't DO that. You don't beat somebody up. You don't.
It's kind of hard to explain but I feel like I finally processed the reality of how wrong his actions were. I think I'd been feeling, in some way, responsible for the whole thing. (And, who am I kidding, I'll probably struggle with it again at some point.) I'd felt angry before but it had been about the ways he'd treated me during our marriage. I had been angry about not being treated the way I deserved. Blah blah blah. I was pissed about that for a long time. And I was sad that the relationship didn't work.
But now I realize -- who cares whether I was married to this guy or not. He got physically angry with me and TOTALLY crossed the line. So, my "what the hell?" is very specifically about his behavior. I can see that regardless of whether or not he was my husband and regardless of what issues he has (because we all have issues), and/or regardless of whatever I may have "done" to him (because none of us are perfect) you DON'T do that to someone. He shouldn't have done that. You don't do that to another human being. The fact that I was his wife and supposedly someone he loved and someone to whom he claimed he wanted to stay married makes it all the more twisted.
And just as I am seeing his behavior for what it was, I'm BEGINNING (emphasis on beginning, obviously) to turn my head also toward my own behavior and see it for what it was. Namely, even if -I- had beaten -Richard-, his correct response would have been to get River out of there--not to hit me. And I'm beginning to realize -- that is PRECISELY what I did! I didn't respond with violence. I got River out of there (once I was physically able). Huh. At some point, I'm gonna have to acknowledge that. I can at least acknowledge that God was obviously with me and helped me to do that - and has continued to help me with everything else along the way.
I'm so glad I have River. She is such a gift. She is a TON of work but so good for me. Having her in my life prevents me from being completely isolated. I mean, I'm in a relationship. I have someone to love on a daily basis. It doesn't happen to be a man and it doesn't happen to be romantic but I'm interacting with and relating with another human being - loving her. Imperfectly, of course, but loving her nonetheless. And receiving the love she gives me. That's good stuff.
Last night River and I watched The Chronicles of Narnia again. The song played during the closing credits is by Imogen Heap. Some of the lyrics:
Oh empty my heartI've got to make room for this feeling
so much bigger than me
It couldn't be any more beautiful - I can't take it in.
Just as I was told my shoulder is in good shape, some people in my life are telling me that I'm in good shape. That's hard to take in but I am feeling better. Weird. But it does feel good to be moving on!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Hyperbole or Not Hyperbole: That Is The Question
I grew up in a family with disproportionate reactions to things.
If memory serves, for example, we were late for everything. That isn't the worst offense in the world, of course. The thing I don't like is that there was always had some elaborate and dramatic (and FABRICATED) "reason" for why we were late. This "reason" would be described and talked about quite a bit. I mean, God forbid we actually acknowledge that we were simply late. Instead, our circumstances had to be campaigned as worse than anyone else. Otherwise, the denial reasoned, we would've been able to get there on time.
At the same time, when my family DID actually experience several genuinely difficult circumstances, such things were minimized. Not discussed. Not acknowledged. Certainly never cried about. One example: As a child, there was a man who did something abusive to someone in my family. This man was continually invited over for open houses and graduation parties. Again, God forbid we actually acknowledge what happened. We completely denied the atrocity and acted as if everything was FINE.
(In defense of my parents, I believe they were sorely ill-advised in this matter. They wanted to do what was "right" and did what they thought was best. Just so happens it wasn't a good idea.)
So, it's really no surprise, when I think about it, that it is taking a lot of work - not to mention TIME - to realign myself. I've been making sure I don't fabricate excuses for myself and when I am wrong, promptly admit it. I've been working very hard to acknowledge the truth I see - be it "good" or "bad." I'm working hard to make sure I don't dismiss it. I knew I struggled with facing the reality of unkindness and/or abuse. Interestingly, it has been just as hard - if not harder - to accept and receive kindness and generosity.
So, having said all that -- I've been crying a lot lately. The last week or two especially. One of my mentors tells me this an indication of how much healing I am actually experiencing. She was quick to clarify, "I know it doesn't FEEL like it, but believe me - this shows how far you've come. That you're finally able to feel the pain, the fear, the terror."
Lord knows I've certainly had a lot to cry about. And I was so consumed with literally surviving and then working hard on getting set up with a "new life," I didn't really feel it all. I couldn't. It wasn't safe. Now, I'm physically, emotionally and spiritually safe. (I think.) WOW.
If I hadn't recently gone through a similar process physically, I might have an even harder time trusting my mentor. (Well, that and she seems to be right about most things.) But, I had a shoulder injury from a few years ago that I finally entrusted to the painful care of physical therapy. About a week ago, I was told, "It looks great. There's really not much more we can do for that old injury any more. It's all about maintenance now." I couldn't believe it. Yet, I could tell, too. It felt great! Physically- I felt so much better. I was shocked. I never expected to experience physical healing. Never.
Similarly, I've been working on changing - emotionally and spiritually. But I don't know that I expected to change. I've certainly been working hard at it. But I think I figured I'd turn into someone like Ouiser Bordeaux from Steel Magnolias who said things like, "I'm not crazy, I've just been in a bad mood for 40 years!" But, I've been noticing some thing. Like, I'm laughing. And crying. And making jokes. And feeling sad. And feeling happy. And feeling grateful. And feeling remorse. I'm actually FEELING, period. It probably sounds hokey but son-of-a-gun it's true.
I'm also beginning to realize that there is a belief I've lived with my whole life which is full of $h*t. What belief is that? That if I can figure it out, it won't hurt me any more. That's not true.
Blah, I'd like some nice resolution to conclude this post - particularly since it's the first one I've written in a long time. Oh well.
If memory serves, for example, we were late for everything. That isn't the worst offense in the world, of course. The thing I don't like is that there was always had some elaborate and dramatic (and FABRICATED) "reason" for why we were late. This "reason" would be described and talked about quite a bit. I mean, God forbid we actually acknowledge that we were simply late. Instead, our circumstances had to be campaigned as worse than anyone else. Otherwise, the denial reasoned, we would've been able to get there on time.
At the same time, when my family DID actually experience several genuinely difficult circumstances, such things were minimized. Not discussed. Not acknowledged. Certainly never cried about. One example: As a child, there was a man who did something abusive to someone in my family. This man was continually invited over for open houses and graduation parties. Again, God forbid we actually acknowledge what happened. We completely denied the atrocity and acted as if everything was FINE.
(In defense of my parents, I believe they were sorely ill-advised in this matter. They wanted to do what was "right" and did what they thought was best. Just so happens it wasn't a good idea.)
So, it's really no surprise, when I think about it, that it is taking a lot of work - not to mention TIME - to realign myself. I've been making sure I don't fabricate excuses for myself and when I am wrong, promptly admit it. I've been working very hard to acknowledge the truth I see - be it "good" or "bad." I'm working hard to make sure I don't dismiss it. I knew I struggled with facing the reality of unkindness and/or abuse. Interestingly, it has been just as hard - if not harder - to accept and receive kindness and generosity.
So, having said all that -- I've been crying a lot lately. The last week or two especially. One of my mentors tells me this an indication of how much healing I am actually experiencing. She was quick to clarify, "I know it doesn't FEEL like it, but believe me - this shows how far you've come. That you're finally able to feel the pain, the fear, the terror."
Lord knows I've certainly had a lot to cry about. And I was so consumed with literally surviving and then working hard on getting set up with a "new life," I didn't really feel it all. I couldn't. It wasn't safe. Now, I'm physically, emotionally and spiritually safe. (I think.) WOW.
If I hadn't recently gone through a similar process physically, I might have an even harder time trusting my mentor. (Well, that and she seems to be right about most things.) But, I had a shoulder injury from a few years ago that I finally entrusted to the painful care of physical therapy. About a week ago, I was told, "It looks great. There's really not much more we can do for that old injury any more. It's all about maintenance now." I couldn't believe it. Yet, I could tell, too. It felt great! Physically- I felt so much better. I was shocked. I never expected to experience physical healing. Never.
Similarly, I've been working on changing - emotionally and spiritually. But I don't know that I expected to change. I've certainly been working hard at it. But I think I figured I'd turn into someone like Ouiser Bordeaux from Steel Magnolias who said things like, "I'm not crazy, I've just been in a bad mood for 40 years!" But, I've been noticing some thing. Like, I'm laughing. And crying. And making jokes. And feeling sad. And feeling happy. And feeling grateful. And feeling remorse. I'm actually FEELING, period. It probably sounds hokey but son-of-a-gun it's true.
I'm also beginning to realize that there is a belief I've lived with my whole life which is full of $h*t. What belief is that? That if I can figure it out, it won't hurt me any more. That's not true.
Blah, I'd like some nice resolution to conclude this post - particularly since it's the first one I've written in a long time. Oh well.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Mea Culpa on the Holiday Howl
I'm guilty. I am the culprit.
I said I was gonna post something every Wednesday and I haven't. It's been almost a MONTH since I last posted. Oy!
What happened? Two things.
1. Life got really busy. It still is. In fact, it's a little chaotic in some areas. (sigh) Oh well.
2. I found that I didn't necessarily want to recall memories - be they my own or someone else's - of horrible holiday experiences. True, true... I'm not participating in any reenactments of a Norman Rockwell painting but you know what? Who cares? I'll take my life the way it is, thank you very much. I'm sick of thinking that things are supposed to be a particular way. I'm trying to remain open to what the world is giving me - even though I am consistently receiving things I was NOT expecting to receive. I choose to believe that the world is beautiful, damn it.
Oh, don't worry... I have a feeling I'll be able to muster a few more holiday howls before the end of this calendar year. I haven't turned all Pollyanna or anything yet. I just figured I may as well acknowledge my own shortcoming here. And say, "Sorry."
I hope y'all had a great Thanksgiving. And if you didn't - write a post about it on your blog and let me know. I'll link back to it. :)
I said I was gonna post something every Wednesday and I haven't. It's been almost a MONTH since I last posted. Oy!
What happened? Two things.
1. Life got really busy. It still is. In fact, it's a little chaotic in some areas. (sigh) Oh well.
2. I found that I didn't necessarily want to recall memories - be they my own or someone else's - of horrible holiday experiences. True, true... I'm not participating in any reenactments of a Norman Rockwell painting but you know what? Who cares? I'll take my life the way it is, thank you very much. I'm sick of thinking that things are supposed to be a particular way. I'm trying to remain open to what the world is giving me - even though I am consistently receiving things I was NOT expecting to receive. I choose to believe that the world is beautiful, damn it.
Oh, don't worry... I have a feeling I'll be able to muster a few more holiday howls before the end of this calendar year. I haven't turned all Pollyanna or anything yet. I just figured I may as well acknowledge my own shortcoming here. And say, "Sorry."
I hope y'all had a great Thanksgiving. And if you didn't - write a post about it on your blog and let me know. I'll link back to it. :)
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Holiday Howl - It's So Horrible It's Hilarious
Harry: Boy the holidays are rough. Every year I just try to get from the day before Thanksgiving to the day after New Year's.
-- When Harry Met Sally
About 10 yrs ago, Orlando (a good friend of mine) was in grad school in a big city and went home to her Midwestern hometown to visit her family for Christmas. One thing led to another and somehow, she ended up "coming out" to her mom and dad. This was certainly not what she intended but she was somewhat backed into a corner and forced to "confess."
Well, it was Christmas from hell from that point on with all sorts of fun holiday cheer. Her family told her things like, "You're going to hell!" "You've chosen to alienate yourself from your entire family!" "You're ruining our lives!" And on and on and on. Poor Orlando... she thought they would be thrilled she was remotely happy and had not chosen to take a half bottle of Tylenol PM like she had the previous year when she "came out" to herself. Her family's response made Orlando seriously believe for a VERY long time they would have been happier if she had died. MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! Ha!
Orlando says she now knows that she is not alone in her recollections of "sad holiday tidings" and knows we don't all necessarily look forward to forced time with family around the holidays. Even more importantly, she told me it helps her realize that things DO get better with time, no matter how awful everything might seem. (I almost hate to end a Holiday Howl on such a good note but it's such an important message from such a horrible experience. And she was very generous to share the story with me. I want to include the wisdom hindsight has given her.)
Your turn! Share a story on your blog. Link back to mine. Post a link to your entry in the comments section of this post. I'll link to you below:
-- When Harry Met Sally
About 10 yrs ago, Orlando (a good friend of mine) was in grad school in a big city and went home to her Midwestern hometown to visit her family for Christmas. One thing led to another and somehow, she ended up "coming out" to her mom and dad. This was certainly not what she intended but she was somewhat backed into a corner and forced to "confess."
Well, it was Christmas from hell from that point on with all sorts of fun holiday cheer. Her family told her things like, "You're going to hell!" "You've chosen to alienate yourself from your entire family!" "You're ruining our lives!" And on and on and on. Poor Orlando... she thought they would be thrilled she was remotely happy and had not chosen to take a half bottle of Tylenol PM like she had the previous year when she "came out" to herself. Her family's response made Orlando seriously believe for a VERY long time they would have been happier if she had died. MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! Ha!
Orlando says she now knows that she is not alone in her recollections of "sad holiday tidings" and knows we don't all necessarily look forward to forced time with family around the holidays. Even more importantly, she told me it helps her realize that things DO get better with time, no matter how awful everything might seem. (I almost hate to end a Holiday Howl on such a good note but it's such an important message from such a horrible experience. And she was very generous to share the story with me. I want to include the wisdom hindsight has given her.)
Your turn! Share a story on your blog. Link back to mine. Post a link to your entry in the comments section of this post. I'll link to you below:
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Please Participate - Have a Holiday Howl
Harry: Boy the holidays are rough. Every year I just try to get from the day before Thanksgiving to the day after New Year's.
-- When Harry Met Sally
I'm not really looking forward to the holidays. I'm working on this - trying to adjust my attitude. But it's tough because there are so many holidays which don't conjure up positive memories for me.
I was talking with my friend Gigi about this and she began sharing one of her worst Thanksgiving Day experiences. I have to give it to her - it was horrible. (If I felt I could do it justice, I'd share it.) And as is so often the case with stories like that, I laughed. And I felt better. And I remembered/realized that the rest of the world is not necessarily sitting in a Norman Rockwell painting either.
So, I had an idea.
I'd like to host "Have a Holiday Howl" each... oh, I don't know... Wednesday? (I'll post my story each Wednesday. You can comment and share whenever.) Just from now until the end of 2009.
Basically, ripping off the concept of Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays (or you could say I'm tipping my hat her way, too. I guess it's all a matter of perspective.) I'll post something. Then you can share a story that qualifies as the World's Worst Holiday experience, too. Post the link to your blog post as a comment and I'll add the link to your blog to my original post. Hopefully, we'll all spread holiday howling throughout the land for the rest of this calendar year.
Important to note - You can share a story about ANY holiday. I'll probably have the most material for holidays that occur at this time of year but ANY holiday is fine with me.
Here's the first:
So Nathan's birthday is December 24. His younger brother's birthday is December 26. (Obviously, there are a few years between them, duh.) When Nathan was about 5 years old, he and the family dog, Morgan, weren't getting along. The dog bit him a few times - once in the nose; once in attack-dog mode on the forearm, dragging him around the back yard; and so on. So the parents decided to give the dog away. They neglected to tell Nathan and his brother this - until Christmas day. Christmas day, when Nathan was 5 years old, the day after his birthday and the day before his brother's birthday, his parents GAVE AWAY Morgan the family dog. The consolation, apparently, was that Santa brought Nathan a plastic Lincoln-Log-like house, in which he hid while Morgan and his new owners backed out the driveway and drove away. Happy Holidays!
Your turn! Share a story on your blog. Link back to mine. Post a link to your entry in the comments section of this post. I'll link to you below:
-- When Harry Met Sally
I'm not really looking forward to the holidays. I'm working on this - trying to adjust my attitude. But it's tough because there are so many holidays which don't conjure up positive memories for me.
I was talking with my friend Gigi about this and she began sharing one of her worst Thanksgiving Day experiences. I have to give it to her - it was horrible. (If I felt I could do it justice, I'd share it.) And as is so often the case with stories like that, I laughed. And I felt better. And I remembered/realized that the rest of the world is not necessarily sitting in a Norman Rockwell painting either.
So, I had an idea.
I'd like to host "Have a Holiday Howl" each... oh, I don't know... Wednesday? (I'll post my story each Wednesday. You can comment and share whenever.) Just from now until the end of 2009.
Basically, ripping off the concept of Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesdays (or you could say I'm tipping my hat her way, too. I guess it's all a matter of perspective.) I'll post something. Then you can share a story that qualifies as the World's Worst Holiday experience, too. Post the link to your blog post as a comment and I'll add the link to your blog to my original post. Hopefully, we'll all spread holiday howling throughout the land for the rest of this calendar year.
Important to note - You can share a story about ANY holiday. I'll probably have the most material for holidays that occur at this time of year but ANY holiday is fine with me.
Here's the first:
So Nathan's birthday is December 24. His younger brother's birthday is December 26. (Obviously, there are a few years between them, duh.) When Nathan was about 5 years old, he and the family dog, Morgan, weren't getting along. The dog bit him a few times - once in the nose; once in attack-dog mode on the forearm, dragging him around the back yard; and so on. So the parents decided to give the dog away. They neglected to tell Nathan and his brother this - until Christmas day. Christmas day, when Nathan was 5 years old, the day after his birthday and the day before his brother's birthday, his parents GAVE AWAY Morgan the family dog. The consolation, apparently, was that Santa brought Nathan a plastic Lincoln-Log-like house, in which he hid while Morgan and his new owners backed out the driveway and drove away. Happy Holidays!
Your turn! Share a story on your blog. Link back to mine. Post a link to your entry in the comments section of this post. I'll link to you below:
Saturday, October 24, 2009
I Appreciate the Compliment, But...
Recently, I received the compliment of some romantic interest from someone ten years younger than me.
Now don't turn into my mother and tell me about all the people you know who are perfectly happy with someone a decade younger. First, I didn't say this lad was interested in a relationship with me. Second, I didn't say I was interested in a relationship.
I could tell you how I met him but it doesn't matter. It was in a group setting, there was food involved, I happened to sit next to him and conversation ensued. I'll admit I enjoyed the conversation. We even stumbled upon the topic of religion, usually off-limits for me, initially. But even that was interesting and compatible enough. Enough such that I was beginning to think, "Hmm... should I reconsider my "stance" on age?"
I know I'm out of practice on this sort of thing, but this guy told me, "You're the most interesting person I've met in the last five years," as well, "I would guess that you've always been with guys who are into breasts. I mean, look at yours - they're huge!"
Maybe I lost track of the number of glasses of wine he had.
Don't get me wrong. I am flattered that I am, or that at least parts of me are considered attractive. Perhaps I underestimate the difficulty of telling a woman that she is attractive without objectifying her after only knowing her for two hours.
For the record, I believe my stance remains. But I appreciate the compliment, Ken. I think...
Now don't turn into my mother and tell me about all the people you know who are perfectly happy with someone a decade younger. First, I didn't say this lad was interested in a relationship with me. Second, I didn't say I was interested in a relationship.
I could tell you how I met him but it doesn't matter. It was in a group setting, there was food involved, I happened to sit next to him and conversation ensued. I'll admit I enjoyed the conversation. We even stumbled upon the topic of religion, usually off-limits for me, initially. But even that was interesting and compatible enough. Enough such that I was beginning to think, "Hmm... should I reconsider my "stance" on age?"
I know I'm out of practice on this sort of thing, but this guy told me, "You're the most interesting person I've met in the last five years," as well, "I would guess that you've always been with guys who are into breasts. I mean, look at yours - they're huge!"
Maybe I lost track of the number of glasses of wine he had.
Don't get me wrong. I am flattered that I am, or that at least parts of me are considered attractive. Perhaps I underestimate the difficulty of telling a woman that she is attractive without objectifying her after only knowing her for two hours.
For the record, I believe my stance remains. But I appreciate the compliment, Ken. I think...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
