De Ce Monde Secret de l’ Amelie Americaine

I think there was an episode of Sex and the City where Carrie, with no romantic prospects decided that New York was her lover. If that metaphor is true, then I must confess, I’m feeling the “seven year itch.” There I’ve said it. I have had fantasies for awhile about stepping out on my lover, my shelter, the one who has given me more than any other.

New York was at first more than I knew what to do with. I protected myself and my feelings every-time I met him for a date. He demanded a lot of me, challenged me to point where I would often lash out at him, but unlike other cities I’ve had in my life, he gave back on equal terms. Sometimes I didn’t know how he felt about me, and I wondered if we’d last. But then he overwhelmed me with his surprises, and for once I felt like I had finally stumbled upon someone who I could build a life with.

My lover made me who I am today, and I don’t know if I’ll ever leave him. I must confess I’m not sure that we’re growing in the same direction. We’re in a rut, and I know it is my fault. He has protected me from change, waited patiently for me take another risk like I use to do when we first met. I don’t know if I am incapable of taking a real risk or if I’m incapable with him. I don’t want to blame him for something that is clearly NOT his fault. I fear that we’re both dishonest about our true feelings.

I stay because I don’t know what life would be like without him. He has made me so comfortable, that I’ve forgotten what it is to be hungry, but I’ve also become numb in the process.

I can no longer feel the pain in my body, the uncertainty that forces you to try just a little bit harder. I’ve stopped reacting like a wounded under dog of an animal. Without sealing myself away from life, I want to feel something again. I don’t want to hold my breath, because I’ve learned to accept disappointment. I’m no longer the skinny, blond coat-check with the tattoo on her stomach, flirting for tips, and a free meal, who knows the odds are not in her favor. I’m the woman with the straight hair and Coach purse, who balances her own check book…most of time.

I fear my lover, he thrives on the ups and downs of the unexpected, the unusual, or simply obscene. It’d be wrong to say that he is chaotic. Chaos is unaware of it’s own purpose. He is ruthlessly aware of the exact reason he will sweep away, disappoint, and cause destruction. He has plans and he’s keen on pushing them. He is industrious, but the constant dust, noise and construction around me is too much at times. We might be building a life together, but I’m not sure we know what it will look like in the end. I must confess, sometimes I feel alone in my lover’s presence. He seems unaware that I might need more than this relationship to keep me going.

So I continue to embrace the gifts until I know for certain that this relationship has ended. I still need him, but I’m not certain that he still needs me.

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