the lifeblood

Since leaving the rush and hustle of school, I've become aware of the degree to which I rely on male attention. The abrupt cut in California was a hard stop, and the absence was actually physically painful. It's not so much that any of the attention was specific or particularly romantic. I dated in the spring, but I was also surrounded by dear male friends who supported, teased, and adored me.

My relationships with women are the depth of my strength, but my relationships with men are my daily bread and butter. I will go for a month or more without talking to someone who is a best friend for the ages and the next time we talk, nothing has changed. There's a depth of connection, across time, intensities, space.

Interactions with men, however, generally take a different form. They are the rise and fall of each day, the pace quicker, bob and weave, particularly where there is intrigue. Mer and I talked about this the other day--my lifeblood she said.

I worry about this, as I worry about anything I become too dependent on. I don't want you to get hurt says Liron. I don't feel at risk--I take each interaction for what it is, for this time, for this place. I feel love and appreciation and energy, but still, I worry. Because in the absence, I do feel loss; not hurt, but loss.

I have been very careful in the past months not to take male attention or affection as direction-setting for my own behavior. It has reinforced my own agency, but I think I have only been put to the test when I finally freed myself of attaching any meaning to the ex's attentions. Free and free-wheeling, suddenly the attention of other men can have real meaning. It's something I will watch closely over the next months.