Is this cheating?
Is what cheating…?
I’ve posted this before and entered it for a Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge many blog years (last August) ago.
So why not write something new and post that and enter that for the Daily Post’s latest Weekly Writing Challenge: Cliffhanger…?
I could actually also enter it for today’s Daily Post Daily Prompt: The Outsiders.
Stop getting distracted, just answer the question, why is it important to you to repost this?
Because this story was on my mind.
SPOILER ALERT – don’t read the next bit unless you want to know the to be continued which cam after the to be continued in the story – your choice – you’ve been warned – this is my disclaimer!
The other day my partner and I celebrated our 17th year anniversary. Might seem a lot to some and not a lot to others. To us… bit of both. Feels like we met yesterday, feels like we’ve been together for so long we can barely recall who we were and what our lives were like before we met.
He said to me as we toasted the milestone – If I’d killed you on the day we met, I’d probably be out of prison by now… mitigating circumstances, self defense and all. That made me laugh until I almost sprayed champagne – yes, champagne, how lovely jubbly bubbly – out of all of my orifices, because we share a darkly twisted sense of humour.
We’ve been through a lot and that’s a deliberate understatement.
Did I ever post about the time I introduced my partner to my parents? They did their best to impress… which in their case means they did their worst to scare him away. I thought he’d better know what he was getting into before he jumped into the sea of me… kept waiting for him to run for his sanity and life.
He’s still here. So am I.
Jumping into the sea of him saved my life… not sure about my sanity but it thinks it was saved too.
Our seas merged and became an ocean.
There is so much going on right now… and he is my pillar of strength and helps me to find my bearings when I want to use the little metal balls which rattle around inside me as pellets and slingshot them at certain people hopefully creating a hole right through their skulls.
So… where was I?
I’m reposting a third of the story here…
“Are you English?” he asked in a lovely British accent, treading water in the deep end of the pool.
“No…” I answered, holding onto the side of the pool to prevent myself from drowning in surprise that the handsome stranger I had been spying on through half-closed lids had actually dared to swim right up to me and speak.
He looked a bit puzzled and I realised that I had been rather abrupt and aggressive in my answer. I had an allergy to small talk. I was also very shy. Some of that shyness was due to the effect that I seemed to have on people when I made attempts to interact with them. I seemed to scare people. When I didn’t talk and when I did. Talking always made things worse.
“But my mother is!” I said quickly, then wished I’d kept my mouth shut. What an awful thing to say! You don’t mention your mother to a man when you first meet him unless you are deliberately trying to scare him off. Which I wasn’t doing consciously, but I had sharks swimming in my subconscious.
This particular man did not seem the least bit scared of me, wary perhaps, but he exuded a quiet confidence which was what had attracted my attention to him in the first place. We talked for a while, our bodies slowly turning into prunes in the warm water of the pool. I can’t recall what was said, but the words are not really important, the feeling behind them was, and the connection they were creating between us.
He invited me to go for a walk with him, to explore the town and perhaps grab a bite to eat somewhere. I accepted. I remember feeling excited but also fatalistic. I had met many wonderful people in my travels, but I never stayed in contact with any of them for very long after the meeting. The encounters were like films and once over that was the end. That was the flow of my life. Adrift and alone. And there was another thing too…
“I’m very weird.” I announced, throwing the information at him like a glass ball, waiting to see if he would catch it or drop it and cause it to break.
We had been sauntering down the main street of town, browsing the windows of the shops. The statue of a butler in full livery with tray on hand extended had caught our respective eyes, and we had stopped to look at it more closely. For some reason I thought this was the perfect moment to tell this man I hardly knew the awful truth about myself. Perhaps I thought that if he knew it now it would speed up the inevitable moment when people discovered just how weird I truly was and ran for their lives.
“Really? Weird in what way?” he asked with a hint of amusement, catching the glass ball in his hand and holding it up to the light to observe it.
“I’ve had a strange life… not strange to me, I suppose it is normal to me, but compared to many other people’s lives…” I really didn’t know how to explain it, I didn’t usually have to explain it. People just agreed that I was weird, lived in an odd way, they ran away, and that was that. I tried anyway. “Slightly bohemian… very nomadic… and…” I paused briefly, questioning the wisdom, or lack of it, of my next words, “I’m into metaphysics, mysticism, and… magic… not conjuring tricks or witchcraft, natural magic, like coincidences, synchronicities…” I had no idea what I was saying, but that didn’t stop me from saying it, “I question everything and I’m not conventional in my approach to finding the answers to my questions.”
Our eyes met. He was sizing me up to see if I meant what I was saying, and I was sizing him up to see if I could detect the sound of feet about to run.
“Hmmm… makes sense,” he said, polishing the glass ball on his sleeve, making it glisten.
He did not seem the least bit phased by my words, or the tone of my voice which had been getting more and more flustered, or the fidgety movements of my body.
“What makes you think that I’m normal?” He asked, suddenly throwing the glass ball back at me with a wink and a smile in his voice.
My mouth opened to answer, but no sounds came out. The glass ball slipped through my confused fingers, hitting the ground and shattering into a million little pieces. He had me, he had completely turned the tables on me. I had never been so roundly trounced. I was very impressed. I had assumed him to be normal based solely on my experience of never having met anyone as weird as myself. Sure I had encountered many people who claimed to be eccentric, mavericks, misfits, and each time I was very excited to have finally found a kindred spirit, but on closer inspection they turned out to be normals masquerading as weirdos. Usually all I had to do to find this out was spend a little bit of time in their company, the more awkward I felt around them the more I knew they were faking it. Normals always made me feel painfully aware of my oddness. Then it struck me. I did not feel odd in his company.
…and the rest of it is here – I Remember: Falling in Love…
*The image with this post is the first picture we had taken of us together, we were not expecting to be photographed, we did not know what the people behind us knew so we didn’t pose for the shot, instead we both decided to use the opportunity of plummeting to our deaths – because you never know with rides – to scream our heads off and let it all out.