Just a card

I saw Magneticguy last night.  It obviously wasn’t an accident, but totally preconceived. It was bothering me so much to think that I let my own cowardice make that choice for me last Wednesday that I looked up the name Tyrone told us and decided to put things right.

Now, that being said, I did still need a little backup so I asked Admiral Fubar to come along. I wasn’t sure it was Magneticguy at first.  He had a different energy and he is pretty good at hiding behind his hair, but when he walked past and I made eye contact for a second I knew it was him. After ordering food and a coffee and chatting with Fubar, I managed to relax long enough to hand off my card.

“Were you at Tyrone Well’s last Wednesday?”

“Yeah.” He said with a half smile.

“Then this is for you.” I put my bliss card on the table, “I remember you.”

I walked back to my seat fighting every nerve and impulse to make a mad dash out of the building and bolt to the car. It took a lot of will power to look casual and sit with my brother and listen to a few more songs while talking, but inside I think I was having a full on grand mal seizure of the energetic variety.

As I sat down Admiral Fubar smiled. “I’m so proud of you. I’ve seen you do that a few times now and I’m impressed.”

“Uhm, thanks.”

So I tried to explain to him why I feel like it’s important to put it out there and why I was so bothered about being a chicken shit last week and why I felt the need to skip the gym just to see the show at Biddy’s to make up for it. To put things right.

It’s not about an expectation from anyone else. It’s about an expectation I have from myself not to let fear make my choices. It’s about an expectation I have to myself to be a woman and stand straight, boobs out, hips fluid and be firm and powerful and feminine at the same time.

I don’t feel like I can be that if I let any fear of how I am received drive me away from paying a compliment to a strange man, or extending my hand for a handshake, or handing out a card. I don’t believe I will ever fit into my own skin well if I am constantly fighting the drive to run away. It’s just a card, but it’s a start. At least this way I can think of my too slow on the draw as a delayed response rather than a tuck tail and run….

Plus, if Brian can get an email from a woman on the bus… then damnit, I can hand out a freaking card. Right, Brian?

I dare you all to give it a try.