Bravery

"People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one’s self. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race." -Oscar Wilde

It takes courage, tremendous amounts of raw courage, to make yourself - your heart, your soul - available to another.

I've never been brave.

My heart is aching, I'm in pain. I haven't felt this sincerely terrible in a very long time. The pounding headache and nausea aren't helping matters. Of course, those two maladies are entirely self-inflicted.

I went out last night and got obscenely drunk. I knew it was coming. I had a work function to attend and had a couple of drinks there. While I'm there, I get a message that I really shouldn't have read while I was out. I left to go meet Po at another bar. On the way, I ran into some friends at another bar and had a drink with them. I find Po and Roo and begin drinking in earnest. I tell Po why it's coming.

We're looking for suitable distractions at a point in my drinking where the only smart option would have been bed. Leave it to me to find the only man in the bar that does not live in Austin, right? This time, I find a Russian podiatrist from Atlanta. Smoking hot. I don't really remember the night. I certainly don't remember his name. Luckily Po drove me home and tucked me in before my foggy memories were of something more than a drunken bar make-out session. Yes, I would have. I was hurting that badly. Dr. Foot was about 10 minutes away from becoming the unknowing recipient of a world-class grudge fuck.

There are aspects of myself that I dislike tremendously. I hate that I will chatter on and on about things, laughing and joking, while I'm crumbling inside. I hate that the only things I will share openly with people are the minutiae or the things that mean nothing to me. I hate that I will fight for things long after the fat lady has sung.

I finally have to admit what I've suspected all along - my relationship with the pilot was nothing more than a fantastic fallacy. I created it, but I didn't do it in isolation. I had some help along the way. Our relationship ended exactly the way it began - with him in control.

The worst part of it is that he's not even going to give me a chance to speak - to say what I need to say. Sure, I could send him an email and say the things I would like to say but he's made his choice and I don't really know why. Ultimately, it doesn't matter - because for whatever reason he isn't willing to even give it a chance. It's not even a big chance or a big risk. I'm not asking for much - not a trial marriage, not a promise of forever - just a weekend, to see.

So for whatever reason, it's just not compelling enough for him. I'm sad, angry and frustrated. For all my faults, weaknesses and fears, I was curious enough and willing enough to at least see. It isn't heroic, but it does require a modicum of courage.