the pirate ship

February 23, 2008 at 11:29 pm (archetype, friendship, history, sexuality)

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i lived in a house full of beautiful boys a long time ago. they were rebellious and rowdy and drunk. i played with them and bore the brunt of their frustrations. it was uncanny how many of these boys had pirate flags. the jolly roger hung from windows and walls at every turn.

when the sun dropped and the sky darkened, that house with big windows felt like a ship rocking on the water. we were drifting on the sea, waiting for a ship of riches to come along to pillage and destroy.

the boys didn’t frighten me. i grew up with rough and tumble brothers.

i thought of the boys as brothers. i wanted to be one of them with the rights and privileges young, handsome men have. i thought they saw me as one of them, thought they saw past the obviousness of my femininity and sexuality.

they didn’t.

my lover at the time was threatened by the pirates. he wasn’t one of them, could never be one of them. he didn’t want me getting drunk with them. it puzzled me that he felt threatened. these were my friends after all, though deep in my heart, there was lust for some.

i unknowingly toyed with them. i flirted mercilessly, all the while denying it.

how could i help it? they were beautiful and i had them all to myself.

those boys chased me, teased me, adored and spurned me. by the end of our time together i was a howling, wounded mess. abandoned by my lover, i had no protection.

though i knew they didn’t want to hurt me, they were often mean when intoxicated. they turned on me more than once, channeling their frustrations with women onto me. we brushed against some blurry lines.

IT WAS FANTASTIC.

years later i know where most of them are.

one, dear to my heart, (the catalyst that drove the lover away) came to my wedding and ate supper with my new husband and i. it flattered me deeply when he said to my new mate, “she had this energy…and everyone wanted to be a part of it.”

it was just me, wanting to be a pirate with the rest of the boys.

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4 Comments

  1. susanna said,

    Ah, I miss my own boys. When I got married, I really didn’t understand that it meant giving up my male friends forever. It still makes me sad.

    Mine didn’t particularly hurt me. I probably hurt them more. I relished the freedom to be able to be myself and say my thoughts without having to phrase things The Right Way For Women to Speak to Each Other — a skill I still have not mastered (and I can look at my small slate of girlfriends to see how successful I’m not). I could talk to them and be heard and enjoy the luxury of being cherished by the boys.

  2. scott sheperd said,

    The artscapes blog recommended you and so here I came and what a wonderful trip to make. The best part of blogging is this, meeting new, alive, creative, mysterious people. You painted a wonderful picture in my mind. Or maybe more accurately you gave me wonderful colors, and brushes and textures and I painted it in my head. I’ll be coming here quite often I can see.

  3. scott sheperd said,

    I just read your blog on your friend being far away. Very powerful. I’m a speaker and sometimes I point out that when people say something to the effect of, “We’re not dating. We’re just friends,” they do a disservice to the concept of friend. Just never goes in front of friend. I wish I had more. It’s a unique wonderful connection different than lovers/spouses and children. I hope you both make the connection you obviously have for each other stay alive.

  4. fallenwoman said,

    those naughty boys! every time one of them gets married, i’m depressed for a bit.

    to be a pirate again…

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