The Frustration of “IT”

I don’t know what IT is. I’ve been told I’ve got IT. I’ve been told I couldn’t find IT with a bloodhound and a GPS. Whatever IT is, I truly do wish that I could bottle it up and store IT for later, when I’m ready to use IT.

My friends and coworkers have always found it amusing to watch the “sharks” circle and approach me as I wander through my life oblivious to their existence until they finally slither up and say something. I remember while on a business trip, a coworker and his wife thoroughly enjoyed the show of a man slowly creeping up to me at the airport, while I sat, reading a book waiting for our connecting flight. They said they saw him enter the gate area and stare at me, before slowly making his way in a zigzag manner through the chairs and finally sitting two seats away from me. My coworker laughed as he recounted the story of how drawn into my book I was, that I didn’t even notice the man staring at me. It wasn’t until he stood up and moved one seat closer that I recognized his existence. At the time, I was married so he of course had no chance, but I don’t believe he would have had a chance regardless. In my world, “hitting on” someone at the airport reeks of desperation. The likelihood of a future seems… slim.

Again, I still don’t know what IT is, but many times I’ve used IT to help my friends have a fun night. There was a time, I went dancing every weekend. The girls and I would go out and just set fire to the dance floor. I’d dance the ENTIRE night. Because I love dancing, we had to show up when the doors opened, and we’d close the club. I never left the dance floor for longer than the techno session, and then only to drink something non-alcoholic to replenish my system. During these dancing “sessions” I was always the “bait.” It somehow became my job to attract and reel in the guys to the group of girls. No man was ever allowed to dance with me, but I would direct him towards one of my friends. My friends would collect numbers and in a few cases actually have real dates afterwards. Not me. I was untouchable. Except once.

The night I met my ex-husband was another classic night of “reeling in the guys,” only this time I was dancing alone. My cousin never made it to the club that night, preferring instead to be impregnated by her ex-con, ex-boyfriend. Refusing to let her decision ruin my night, I decided to dance anyway. Throughout the night, a guy would come up and try to dance “with” me. I recognized they were coming up, but I wasn’t interested. What I didn’t recognize was that there was a SELF REGULATED AND ORGANIZED LINE of men, waiting for their chance to dance with me. The Bouncers were the ones who drew my attention to it. They were planning for the possibility of trouble as the night came to a close and asked me to wait until the line had dispersed. Little was I aware that was my ex-husband’s way of getting his chance. He was one of the bouncers.

When I was in the Army, I also apparently drew out the wackos. As soon as I was out of Basic Training and in the general population again, soldiers were practically throwing themselves at my feet. I was too young, and truly not interested. I didn’t trust men. Nice to look at, but nothing else. I eventually became known as “The Untouchable.” I remember being told of a rumor that was circulating regarding me and another soldier meeting under a bush. My chain of command was quick to jump on this one, because the other soldier was not only spreading the rumor but also was known to be married. The Chain of Command did not doubt my innocence, as they had seen me rebuff soldiers on a near daily basis. It was plain as day to everyone, I just wasn’t interested. Although I did have my first kiss, stolen by a soldier from New York. Acevedo. He blew his chance by being too dramatic with wilted roses and fake tears.

On the flip side, when I was in Oregon, no men found me even remotely attractive. Again, I wasn’t concerned. After all, I was “happily” married and didn’t need other men to find me attractive. So whatever IT is, I didn’t have IT with me in Oregon.

During my short stay in Texas, IT showed up at strange times and then went away again. Returning to Colorado after over 15 years away, IT didn’t appear again until this summer. And IT returned almost with a vengeance, reeling in men of all ages to say something intellectually numbing to me. I’ve been approached by men older than my father and young enough to be my child had I started right out of high school. I can’t even enjoy the relative peace of a library visit, or grocery stop without a “line” being delivered.

Now many would say, I should enjoy the attention, and maybe they are right. But of the many “men” that approach me, few are worthy of enjoyment. Just because there is a Y-chromosome involved doesn’t mean I should be flattered. In truth, I’m somewhat insulted. If these are the types of men that I attract, then I know I have no hope of attracting an intelligent man who might actually be beneficial to my life as opposed to someone similar to the life sucking vampire I was married to. The men, if that’s what they are, that approach me, are dirty and greasy, and drop lines that were likely written by a porn magazine. These men aren’t looking for life partners; they are looking for a booty call. Apparently, I look like someone who could be “had” easily and thrown away without a thought. Not a flattering image in my mind. Not exactly the ego boost many think it would be.

I still don’t know what IT is. I do know I’m not interested in the slime that approaches me. I do know that it is highly unlikely, I’ll “fall” for the tricks of a skeezer dropping a line on me out in the “wild.” If I am ever dumb enough to be involved again, it will be with someone whom I have a solid friendship with first. Someone whom I have already built up a strong feeling of trust with. But should that friend ever come around, I hope IT shows up at the same time, too. I’ve had friends in the past, whom I had developed feelings for, but IT never showed, and instead left me feeling the teary-eyed fool. I don’t relish the idea of wasting IT on men who have no chance and are truly just wasting my time. I already wasted too much of my life on a vampire. No need to waste any more time on vampire wannabes. I just wish I knew what IT was. I just want to put IT away until my heart is healed enough to use IT. Even this Ice Goddess doesn’t want to be alone forever… even though I do expect to be.


About Supovadea

Single Mom, Certified Rocket Scientist & Aerospace Engineer, Private Pilot, Amazon, Dancer, Writer, Eternal Optimist, Survivor, Dreamer, 2,910 NM ENE of where I belong.
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