Week 9 of Brahmicharya
Just watched Parenthood either to get babies out of my system or in it. Been thinking about babies all day, actually. A baby is probably the ultimate commitment. It’s a permanent job and a permanent relationship with the father.
I have a Doctors appointment. I want to ask about my reproductive health. Am I able to have a baby if I wanted to? Do I have any STDs? What are the health effects if I don’t have a baby?
I am a woman so these questions are relevant.
Dr. Jenkins, a blond 3rd year medical student sits down to ask me questions first. She is fully engaged because she is learning about her profession and still trying to decide what will be her focus. Perhaps after meeting me she will decide on the emotional and mental health of women. I think I sounded like a rape victim to her as I told her I was 34, not even close to getting married and practicing celibacy.
“Are you a virgin?” the doctor asked me as she lay me down on the examination table.
I laughed and said, “I wish!”
And I realized at that moment how telling that statement is. I was essentially saying that I wished I had never been touched by a man. Or the men who have touched me. I wish I was new again so that I could start all over again without all the emotional baggage.
“I have a history of being overly emotional,” I tell Dr. Jenkins. She practices her non-judgmental face. Or the face that is excited to prescribe anxiety or depression medication.
“That’s why I do yoga. It calms me down.”
It’s probably hard for her to believe that I am what I say I am as I talk to her in my calm, low yoga voice.
“I also do a lot of writing,” I tell her. And it feels good to give her all the details of who I am so she can do her job better. I just want someone to listen to me. To be with me. No, not my mentor. Not God. Not my parents. I want a man. Why?
Later that night at yin yoga I set an intention to open my heart. Suddenly I saw myself connecting with beautiful people through yoga and Thai massage. No sex, just sharing energies intimately. I thought of who I am and my need for human contact. I realized that I can get the love I need from many different sources, not just the one who has my heart, especially since he is withholding his attention right now while he figures out his own life. I imagined becoming friends with good looking men and women. Having dinner all over the city. Going hiking, biking, running, swimming, clubbing with all kinds of interesting people.
I won’t meet them online, though. I will meet them on my own path. This is the way to making authentic connections.
Hmmm. Not necessarily. Without Craigslist I wouldn’t have met my roommate.
Maybe I’ll take a peek…ugh. No. This is so gross. These listings are so desperate and passive aggressive.
I go to the so-called 70s-80s yoga class and noticed The Bird Watcher checking me out right away. I could have sworn this guy was gay. No. After class he was talking to me in “that way” and when I said I wasn’t doing anything this weekend he offered to “take me out.”
So I told him to meet me at Busboyz and Poets where Ive been tryin to catch a spoken word night every Friday and have yet to succeed.
But I still had to go grocery shopping, shower and eat. So of course I was late again. We went to eat Ethiopian food instead at Dukum. Finally. I’ve been in DC almost 2 months and dyin to eat Ethiopian. It was so funny. A live band with a singer. I drank entirely too much wine and talked too much but he was such an easy audience. Still a boy. But a gentleman. And smart. Went to Rutgers. Transferred there after going to a conservative liberal arts (funny oxymoron) college. Just like me. Younger sister who went to Julliard and about to marry a man 20 years older. Older brother who works at CNN but is selfish and an “asshole.” Oooh, drama. Loves bird-watching. Grew up with lots of birds in the house. His mom is a bird-lover too. He shows me photos he took of birds in Puerto Rico and the shots are amazing quality. The composition is that of a trained artist. I am genuinely intrigued. I show him my art and tell him the synospis of my comic books.
“You are the most interesting girl I’ve ever met,” he says.
Hmm. I’ve been getting that a lot lately. And it feels good to my Leo ego. But he has no idea what he is talking about. I am a handful. I am NOT a stable person.
He walks me home and tries to kiss me but I give him a Miami kiss on the cheek and go inside and check my mailbox even though I already did earlier that day just so I can feel like I am not affected by the exchange. This is MY story, not his. I am making friends in this chapter and I will let him know this next time I see him.
My intention lasted through the weekend. While wandering through my neighborhood, I met The Coffee Man, a barista in a small cafe. As I began my conversation with him, I started to feel like Esmeralda Santiago during her years at Harvard. I knew this was a person who could be a good friend. We hit it off immediately and he invites me to go salsa dancing that night with some friends. I accept instantly, and before I know it, I am walking a few blocks from my home and salsa dancing with a Jewish boy and a tall Argentinian. I am still celibate so I don’t feel like I am projecting sexual energy, and both guys and girls seem to genuinely like me.
But perhaps it was Nikki who threw me completely off as I watched her dancing seductively with The Coffee Man. She was beautiful. And then I remembered that sexy dream. The girl’s name was Nikki. WTF?
I suppose I should have realized that salsa dancing does not go well with Brahmicharya. And thus, I slipped. When I got home, I lay my hands on myself, and man, it felt so good. Different. Like I was loving myself. Not f-ing myself. I needed to hug myself and feel like a human with flesh and blood pulsing through my veins.
So I broke brahmicharya. I decided I wouldn’t feel guilty, though. I didn’t feel lustful about the whole thing, so there was no guilt. It was love. And this is the kind of energy I would like to share with…my MAN? a MAN? Different MEN? Nikki? A woman? Seems like this Lesbian thing keeps coming up. Ugh!
I don’t want to sleep around. I don’t want to be a Lesbian. Am I protesting too much?