The Love of My Life

I am a dreamer. I have always been. I remember when I was in kindergarten and the teacher rudely interrupted me from a daydream in the middle of class; disgracefully awakening me from my fantasy land of nymphs and fairies dancing around my head to ostensibly focus on math lessons. What a trip!

In my middle school to high school years (as we were a rather rural region of Pennsylvania and things moved much slower in these parts...) I had crushes on boys. My older brother saw fit that they stayed clear for the most part until he left for college. Then I was free to reek havoc. The truth is, I fell in love quite early on and quite committedly to one guy. He, of course, did not want anything to do with me. The rejection was something that I guess I actually sought out (at least, with lot's of therapy, I am able to appreciate that fact).

In college; forget about it. I was too busy partying to have serious relationships. My most devoted ally, a 3' bong named Grimace, was with whom I slept most nights.

It wasn't until my senior year of college I met Scott and I fell madly in love. Actually, I didn't really, but we, of course had a meaningful connection and I mistook that for love. What is true love anyway?

We spent almost 10 years together.  And I now regret having left him because I see how special he was....  I have journal entries where I complain miserably about his OCD behavior or how he's not much of a sensual lover. I felt really comfortable with him.  Maybe a little too comfortable.  He could fix anything but not the greatest lover! 

When I ran off to Argentina and met Andres. Oh, Andres. Well, let's just say that love making is his sort of calling card.   But he was the kind of guy who knew every bouncer at every club in Buenos Aires....a city fo 13 million.  Sort of said something about his type, no?  While he was sensual and romantic, he couldn't stop flirting with every other woman, fix a toilet or drive a car. 

When I met Martin, I pretty much figured that I had been blessed with the two extremes and that with him I 'd find a happy medium. He can fix almost anything, even toilets, but alas, not broken hearts.  Well, funny how life just keeps you guessing. While he was perfect in almost every way, he was a disaster at being. Yes. BEING. He had trouble being present. He had no idea who or what was his priority. He had difficultly organizing. He fled to his mother and sisters for comfort and alienated me. He blamed me for pretty much everything that ever went wrong because he certainly was rarely present (both physically and mentally) when things got decided.    When we finally parted ways, I was at the receving end of a bunch of criticism that wasn't rightfully mine.  I am still, to this day, not sure what exactly he was so angry about.  He hasn't quite let me in on his own insights.

As a single woman again, I finding dating to be tremendous work.  It's not like it was 5 or even 10 years ago when you met someone, you clicked and things took course from there.  Now there is so much more at stake and I find so many of these 'possibles' quite literally impossible to stomach.  With each new failure at love I become all the more in tune with the my own strengths, weaknesses and most impotantly, boundaries.  What I want vs. what I don't want.  I am still a little sketchy on what I want; I am becoming clearer most certainly on what I don't want. 

Well, the one bright side to all of this, is that I finally, after all of this strife and heartache have found my one true love.   I have discovered my son, Ziggy, the most wonderful creature ever created. Yes, he is challenging. He can scream louder than Liza. There are moments when we both need a time out. But he's amazing. He's amazed. He's loving and he's lovable. He's innocent. He's accepting. He's absorbent and learning. He's brilliant. He's precocious and challenging. He's brave and enlightened. I wonder, was I?

I guess, in closing, while Ziggy can be one thing, (i.e. difficult) he is always the other truth to that thing (i.e. brilliant).   He is purely whole and perfect just as he is. He is, in short, the guy I've been looking for. He's my dream come true.  It is like Rev. Bonnie said, Ziggy Finn Santos will forever be like a prayer.  And it is.  How very grateful I am for him being in my life.  He is the most perfect representation of Infinite Spirit.  And for that, I am truly blessed.  And as I look into his beautiful blue eyes, I know that he is created as a part of me and therefore I too am perfect, beautiful and sort of like a prayer.  How cool is that?  To see the truth of your own self in the eyes of the one you love is what we are all searching for...and I have it.  Sure I had to go through shit (and continue to work my ass off) for it, but how very sweet it is.  Blessed be little Ziggy Finn Santos.  Nameste.