Fear and I have always had a very close, some might say romantic, relationship. Much of my crazy life has been lived at its inspiration – I soar because I’m afraid to fly. In many ways, I’m the most fearful person I know – I’m scared of airplanes, mirrors, heights and fish (yeah, go figure,) and a bit obsessive compulsive – so it frequently feels like I’m climbing mountains on a daily basis, just trying to live without giving in. Long ago, somewhat self-centeredly, I decided that it is we who are always afraid who are the real heroes in life – we struggle with every step while those other folks shine and grin, and it’s hardly heroic to do something that comes easily, after all.
This past weekend was built on fear, and this coming weekend will be round two. The aforementioned airplanes will be coming into play, and my belly is already well aware that we’ll be puking our guts out up at 37,000 feet, so it’s preparing by – you guessed it – puking our guts out down here at +4 feet (give or take a foot.) However, that’s hardly the biggest fear I’ll be facing. I’ll be joining Theo on one leg of their massive Spring tour – just a few days out of the nearly 3 months they’ll be gone – and the enormity of it all is hitting me hard. It’s one thing to be lying in bed with a person you love chatting about breakfast or back pimples (come on, admit it, you do it, too,) but it’s a completely different experience to be in a theatre surrounded by people fawning over this person you know and love who’s suddenly grown into an image you almost don’t recognize. To express it as feeling small is an understatement, and add to that the fact that Theo isn’t out and so I’m just a “friend with a nice camera” and I get to feeling quite forgotten back in the back row, clicking away at this personality that’s bigger than life.
Theo is also very, very poly – fundamentally so, in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever quite be. I started out poly by necessity, and then eased into poly by default, but I’m really far too anxious to ever grab that poly bull fully by the horns. I really like stability – sexy, passionate, loving stability – and the idea of one-night-stands or even more than two partners kinda makes me itch. Oh, sure, I’m attracted to people all the time, but I’m also a romantic at heart, and I don’t know that I have room in my brain to carry off the attention, the love – heck, the scheduling – with much aplomb. This weekend, I met one of Theo’s old partners for the first time, and we discussed two and a half (don’t ask) other current partners in the course of some of that very same complicated scheduling. The world Theo is used to reminds me of that line from Hotel California – all those “pretty, pretty boys she calls friends” – the world of staying friends with your exes that is a hallmark of many queer circles. Add to that the intricately casual play that happens in dungeons and at conferences and it all gets a bit complicated.
All that talking about the other loves, the other family…it’s hard on my heart, and my needs-to-get-thicker-yesterday skin. Generally speaking, I don’t get jealous – I just run straight for fear and panic, and the certainty that I suck far too much to be hangin with such cool kids. (You have to know that rock stars don’t just date anyone – rock stars date other rock stars. At one time I decided to stop bringing up favorite authors around Theo because, well, it was just intimidating to hear about the ones that had come before.) (Sorry – even when I’m scared, I can’t help reaching for the cheap laugh.)
I was helping Theo look for a misplaced wallet this weekend, casually flipping through papers and books, when it hit me all at once. The backstage passes, the photographs, the letters – suddenly it was like realizing I’d wandered down into the scary basement while the power was out and everyone else gone for the weekend. It hit me palpably, like a gust of cold air, and suddenly I had no idea what the FUCK I WAS THINKING. Who am I to be dating a god? Worse still, who am I to be loving a god, living with a god, depending on and being vulnerable to a god – me, the one who has spent years detaching and hardening and learning to stand on my own? AAAAAIIIIGGGHHHHH!!!!!! Was I fucking INSANE?
Yeah. Probably.
And now I’m laughing at myself – not a nice laugh, but one of those wry ones the old lady laughs as she gives you directions to the spooky old castle in the distance that she warned you to avoid – because it’s exactly that insanity, that fear, that drives me on. If I’m scared of it, it must be worth doing.
Totally insane, I know.
But there’s another fear, too, and it’s not mine. All of this terrifies Casey, because every step I take toward Theo is a step away from the bubble that was us when I was completely wrapped up in it (and slowly losing my grip.) I love Casey, but I love Theo, too. Casey loves me, but she loves her wife, too. Theo loves me, but they love other people, too. Theo manages to do it without fear, but Casey and I are still a lot further back on that learning curve.
So we talk, and talk, and talk, and love, and talk some more. I’m getting better at reacting, at least, and I don’t just run away and call cave, which is a definite improvement. Casey is getting easier on herself, and I’m trying to follow in suit, although the whole thing still does just seem crazy to me sometimes.
Because, you see – I’m not really Roxy. I’m just a math teacher mom who wandered into this crazy life pretty much by accident. And, as much as it scares me, I’m still riding. No matter the vertical drops, or how many corkscrew turns I have to endure…I wanna see how far this E ride goes.
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