How to Wag

I’ve never been able to sustain a relationship with a man. I want to.
No, I really do.
I love men.
Better now since I’ve raised some boys, Adam and Dylan. They made men real to me, from the inside out. They have a very tough road, as we all do. They just are not allowed to let it show. Hmmm.

I did have one perfect love, male, Sam. He was always happy to see me. He forgave my lack of attention when my focus was on work or school. He didn’t complain if dinner was the same every night. He overlooked the brief response and the sharp one. Whenever I was sad, Sam noticed. He sat next to me and waited while I worked through my thoughts and then just offered himself as the soft place. Yes, you already know. Sam was a dog.

I’ve been an “almost” fit for so long in my life. So many of us are like this, aren’t we? But if I could channel Sam, if I could find the part of me, the part that lies down and lets the loved one get through it, offering only the receiving and the nuzzle, the absolute faith that who you are, your substance means that your reaction is valid and you can own it and that whoever your enemies are, they will be my enemies and if you just need to shout, you can shout, or cry, and then grow quiet and we can fall asleep in the living room in front of the fire.

Sam also taught me the absolute joy of the moment, the complete laughter, uproarious and sometimes disturbing, but infectious and liberating. That the observers don’t matter so much as racing after the Frisbee.

That a great scratch in the small of your back can be the most satisfying moment you can have in a whole day.

That a nip is just a response to pain and not commentary.

I have not succeeded in my romantic relationships but I loved Sam beyond the day he died. Okay, he was a dog. But it’s a start, right? There is hope that I can figure this out. I think he would like it if I did. He’d wag.