okay folks- warning this has sex in it so. . . if you are related to me you might want to pass if not please partake. i would if i was you. . .
This is the sound of settling. I hear against my ears. But I don’t do the settling. I do not. Not really. I settle for less than I deserve guilty as charged but I don’t settle for the someone in the passenger seat of my car or bed unless they mean something and I see that. That. I don’t allow them into the crosswalk or lane next to me on the sidewalk of life. The good ones making sure to be on the outside protecting me from the incoming traffic or so I thought. Some might have manners but they don’t know the way to love a woman completely, entirely. I fall hard and desperately and in love and do the crash and burn and then its over. I am surrounded in the abyss-the leftovers of what was. I have friends who settle, settle for those who will give them attention but, but I don’t know how. How. Until. I am settling now. And I have settled before. With this man. Allowing for there to be no commitment though committed until there was no way out but out.
But this time I was settling for sporadic sex on swings next to fires by accident while the pint glasses broke, one and two but we didn’t stop. Condom wrappers on the ground glass shards next to them. We walked inside and didn’t skip a beat and went for another round. Until he passed out. He passed out and I wondered what the fuck am I doing.
He had just told me upstairs in the kitchen after making weird food concoctions of leftovers and dancing around and having cheese inside of cracker boxes-he was happy we were just friends and he was nervous we were drinking. Drinking together again. Because every time we did, every time we do, we sleep together. It wasn’t long until I felt him move closer to me. First massaging my shoulders before we went back down to our bon fire in the backyard. Then when we start swinging. Back and forth and the drink of beer, the pint moved from my lips to his. He had found a place on my lap. His head on mine.
This wasn’t looking good folks except swing sex is fun especially on a backyard variety-fuck the store bought bullshit. I feel him reach up to my lips taking a dabble at each. And I speak the last words, the last words of pause. Are you sure you want to do this? And then it is happening- we are going down the slide of lust and lost love into more lost-swinging back and forth not caring about the glasses-one and two-breaking and laughing. We just keep fucking. Fucking. The freedom of the swing, the freedom of swinging, the freedom of not caring about anything but this moment. I don’t care for anything but for this swinging. And care I didn't. Except I know I am swinging with someone I should walk with. I am swinging with someone I probably shouldn’t. I keep going and it’s too late.
I settled not in that moment. But in the accepting of calls and the listening of life of woes of not getting the position at work, and his mom who cracked his windshield, and the travel of father’s day up and down northern california on his only day off. I settle each time I pick up that phone and listen. Listen to his words. I show up and swing every time. It doesn’t matter if we fuck that is just a technicality. So as I drive, drive up the hill down to my home. I know that I have settled. For what I am not sure. For how long I am not sure. Settling while swinging. Swinging high and hard and not caring for tomorrow. But I care for tomorrow and what it will bring. Bring me more than the sound of the swing settling to a slow pace and stopping again.
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