Public Face. Private Face.

She is funny. Gregarious. Life of the party. Smart. Cool. Intelligent.

She is silly. Quiet. Full of attitude.  Sarcastic. Hilarious. Observant. Reflective. Meditative.

She is gorgeous.  Gear lit.  Hair, makeup, clothes.  A reflection of years in the beauty industry. "The worse you feel the better you should look." Every outfit suitable for the occasion. Fredrick and Victoria. Never too much.  Never too little.

She is comfortable.  Nerdy.  Glasses and worn hoodies.  Sweats.  Walmart Captain America boy cuts and matching wife beater. Hair up.  What's makeup?  She is good to glow in her own skin.  She is aware that true beauty comes from cultivation of the mind and heart.  So she reads a lot.

She is smart.  Witty.  She is kind and clever.  Draws attention to those who need attention, perfecting the art of deflection.  She is able to speak intelligently on any topic, even if she is spit balling.  She has developed the ability to ask questions.  To listen intently. Respond with empathy. People are drawn to her.

She is filter-less.  She says what she thinks.  Loudly.  Emphatically.  Feeling all the words she chooses to say. She is also willing to back down when she is wrong. Surrounding herself with people who know her well enough to not take her honesty offensively.  They understand she wants no filter behind closed doors. She is passion personified. They respect her for it. They understand her.  They love her. They are protective of her.  They know how easily she bruises.  They know how much she hates her mask.

She is guarded.  Saying less than they think she does. Always thinking so much more.  She is classic. Exactly the way they hope that they could be if they were less human.  Impermeable. Ice and fire all rolled into one. Able to cool you down and heat you up. French twist, little black dress and a martini.

She is tired.

Showtime.

-The postscript-

She plays cards.  Leaves on the W. She does not like to be touched unless invited.  She is touched a lot. She understands that it's all a part of the game.  She spends some time trying to make the corner of the couch envelop her.  She realizes she has failed when an arm sneaks around the back of the couch.  She reminds herself it is a part of the game.  She smiles. Plays word games.  Mind games. Tries not to commit herself.  She embraces her role and puts on a show.  At the curtain call she is hugged a lot by men whom she has not invited to touch her.  She reminds herself not to cringe.  She is walked to her car.  She is bid goodnight. She gets in the car and takes out her french twist and puts her hair in a bun. Her performance is over.

She is too raw to go home so she goes to the airport instead.  She drives in circles around the airport with her best friend.  She tells caustic stories about her night and they both laugh so hard that liquids spew from orifices that should only receive them. She listens intently to her friends day.  Commiserates that the world is, in fact, full of idiots. Once they have talked they are content to sit in silence.  She content to breathe cold night air and listen to nothing and eat a bagel.  Her best friend is playing the annual meeting and eating slim jims.  The silence and the companionship heal her raw places.  She is whole again. She goes home.  They do not hug. At home she showers off her public face and the cologne that she isn't willing to bring into her bed.  She thanks her public face for another successful show.  She slides into her cowboys jersey.  She climbs into bed.  She starts to write.

Hypothetically, Of course....

What if hypothetically, long ago you met a man.  And you liked this man.  And you were in a position to pursue something more significant.  This man liked you. And he was in a position to pursue something more significant. But you don't.  Perhaps he thinks it's because you have a situation that is a non-negotiable for him. Perhaps because you think that being in a relationship with him would take more of your soul than you are willing to put on the table. Maybe you are wise enough to see such a thing and an even wiser woman in that you allow the thing to implode without pulling any triggers.

You probably understand that if you don't pull the trigger but instead turn in just enough circles he will.  And him being in control creates a post-traumatic situation that leaves just enough pieces behind to allow you to build a friendship.  So you do. And he does. Friendship status achieved. What if then he gets married, which you're okay with because you knew you were at the table on a bluff anyway.  You pursue peace with his wife and your scion bond. Everything is happy in happy town right?

What if then you meet someone.  And as your friend you encourage a screening process with new friend. Figuring innocently enough, maybe too innocently, that since you've been a good friend they will too.  But what if- what if he isn't a good friend?

What if instead he does that dog peeing thing that guys do (you know the- "I peed on this tree therefore it's mine, always mine, and only mine!")? What if, even worse, he doesn't tell you he is doing the dog peeing guy thing?  What if instead he is divisive and territorial?  Manipulative and arrogant? What if he pretends that he isn't? But you can see it and you can feel it.  What do you do?

Here is the interesting thing about being a friend- it's a choice, like everything else.  I'm always faintly amused how people overestimate their standing in your world.  How they mistake kindness for weakness and assume that because you've never pulled a trigger, you never will.  The kindest people are usually the dirtiest fighters. Universal balance and all.

You know, when you repay kindness with selfishness it never works well.  Never. Especially when your selfishness impedes the happiness of someone who has done you a solid.  And respected your right to tell your story the way that you choose to verbalize it.  Regardless of if it is fiction or not.

That 's a pretty precarious place to be in because it relies on the compliance of parties privy to the facts to allow you to live your fiction.  As long as the present reality suits everyone- that's fine.  But when you mess with someones future you may tear a hole in the fabric of the space time continuum that you have no knowledge of how to repair.  Then every one's screwed.

Choice.  Such a powerful tool. You always have a choice.  And every choice has a consequence.  And consequences can be good or bad.  So make wise choices.

This is all hypothetical, of course.  The one thing I can say though is that I really hope, in this farce, it is my imagination that is overactive.  Really, really hope.  Because I find parallel dimensions fascinating and I have no qualms about hitting that red button that causes implosions when done dirty. Yes, I know, everything will go up in flames.  But I like fire.

Which is to say- warning shot fired.  Please play nice.

Hypothetically, of course.

Dewberry

10:22

Proverbs

"It is the blessing of Jehovah that makes one rich. And He adds no pain with it."

I was told last night at a party by a friend that he had been "on vacation long enough to long to be home." That maybe "that's what the point of vacation is, to appreciate the normalcy of your regular life." It could have been the wine but I thought that was brilliant and told him so.

I have been home almost a week.  All I can really do is think about how rich my life is.  The people I know.  The friendships that I have- indescribable.  It does not come as a surprise to me that all I ever want to do is bring a smile to other's faces.  There are so many people that make a habit out of bringing one to mine.

I'm so thankful.  This is definitely going to be a year of thanksgiving.  The older I get the more I love my life.  Maybe that's the real key to the wisdom that age brings- the richness of relationships.  Touches your heart and inevitably makes you a better person.

All thanks be to the Giver of every good gift.

Dewb