Playing Dress Up

As a girl, I loved to play house with all of the other kids at school. I was usually cast as either the father or the kid. Both men and children tend to be helpless and irresponsible, so I guess it makes sense.  We would set up shop in the play yard at the picnic tables and each day went through the following scenarios:

1. Bad kid gets sent to their room
2. Good kid gets to hang out with the parents
3. Mom and Dad are having a row
4. Mom and Dad are disgustingly happy
5. We're driving in an invisible car somewhere....

Of  course we knew that none of it was real. We knew that I wasn't really a man and that my playmates weren't really the fruit of my loins. Nevertheless, we would spend hours acting like a true, 100% authentic family. Kids are good at pretending something is there when it really isn't.

Adulthood is the realization that you can no longer pretend to have what truly isn't there in the first place. 

Playtime is over.

Mr. Safety is here. I find myself confronted with the knowledge that I am still playing pretend. My kisses, my hugs, and even my feelings are all a part of a play date gone wrong. I feel frustrated because he's a good man who loves me and I feel resentful that I find myself incapable of returning his love. Five years of:

giving

loving

taking

crying,

cheating

hating,

living

fighting

running,

leaving,

returning,

receding

dying

living

kissing

hugging

feeling

finding

losing

being

And I'm spent... EMPTY!

I don't know what I fear the most at this point. Am I afraid that he might find out that I no longer feel the same way or am I afraid that someday I will wake up to a reality where I truly do love Mr Safety. Too many questions, not enough answers. For now, I plan to enjoy his company while I can. He's a good man and he loves me. There are so many people in this world who have found love. I guess I'm just the great pretender

Playtime

P. Manolos