The Trinity of Roulette Honesty: I Play Fair Until I Do Not.

Let me tell you about the beauty of baths, and of the actual incredible nature of eating a mango in bed while mostly nude.  It’s weird, but it actually *is* incredible. I highly suggest it.

One of the reasons I love Zeb:  He knows and notices and connects things that actually makes things different/better. It’s great to be close with your exes. It’s even better when they are creative genius emotional psychic builder carpenter artist weirdos. 

 We had a great conversation about secure vs. insecure people and the huge ass difference in street harassment when I am walking with someone who is secure in themselves vs someone who is mostly insecure.

For the record: Holy SHIT does it make a difference. 

It feels good to feel that, again.

(Pause)

I have this rule about confessions.  Real confessions.

When I’ve done something really bad- I mean, really, really bad- almost unspeakable- I tell myself that I have to try, at least three times, to confess to the person who was the "victim" of it. Because although I can do bad shit, I can't actually go about it like a bad person.

I'll clarify, here: This has happened probably three times in my life. It’s not like I’m running around doing horrible things to people, and this never includes people actively in my life.  It’s with good reason when it happens, but, I know better than to think “good reason” is actually and fully justification for it.

The truth of the matter is: There are very rare occasions and circumstances that I allow myself to be completely and purely vengeful. It is nothing more (or less?) respectable than that. 

In any case, I continue:

But after the third time, if I have no success in making the connection to tell the person, I am, officially, off the hook for it.  

Not to myself, of course-it’s serious stuff to step outside of my own integrity- but in relation to the other person.

(And I know, I know: Magical thinking and the numerology of “3”.)

But last night I tried to connect with the person for the third, and final time. 

I was afraid that the connection might actually happen. That the plan might work out,  that they might just show up to that meeting they considered, that a response might come.

But it didn’t.

I would like to say that the remnants of guilt are still on my hands.

But they aren’t. 

Instead, a childlike freedom envelopes and excites me. 

Oh, I know it is terrible. 

To make up such arbitrary rules around guilt and accountability. We all do it to varying degrees- this is just more blatant. More calculated.  

But you have to draw the line somewhere, don’t you? 

Some friends say that what I did was understandable.

That what I did was vindication for the emotional distress I had been caused.  

But, come on now:  I know it was wrong.  

The person had absolutely no idea.

I know it was wrong because when I was deciding if I should do it, I knew if I did it, I would have to do it knowing that I could never face the person again. 

Not in any real way.

And then I decided in favor of doing it.

And so I did it. 

I don’t regret it.

Even though it is awful.

Perhaps even to be described as pure evil.

Does that make me bad?

Is it worse that I don't mind if it does?

But, still, the Catholic in me still mandated that I put forth the Trinity of Confession Russian Roulette: To create the possibility that I would have to confess what I had done.

Only this time, again on this third and final time, the chamber was empty.

And midnight, that beautiful hour of all things to change, was set as the cut off point for a reply to come.

Nothing.

We all have our dark secrets, don’t we? 

Some of them just get strangely, and instantly, lighter. 

Be well; be loved.

k.