in·​ter·​view: jell-​o

Is dating harder now?

Well, I am. But I'm also softer than before.

Please don't let me slip.

What makes you feel like you're softer now?

I think I'm less resolute in my claim of knowing what I want and need. I didn't know either, and then I thought I knew both. But I'm repeatedly reminded (or convinced) that I don't. And that makes me feel like a marshmallow too near to a flame. Or like something that's being squeezed and formed and pulled and squished just like it's supposed to - taffy, for example. And it's supposed to undergo that stretchy journey, but to be honest I thought I was going to be a tree. A beautiful red and green tree that soaks up sunshine and gives and gives.

A tree is much firmer than a marshmallow, isn't it?

Something I'm asking myself today is, "Who will give or withhold permission from me?"

Permission to what?

Permission to iterate, I suppose. To keep redefining and exploring my understanding of this world and to demand attention as I delight in it. Permission to shoot my shot at a humorous and empathetic life.

Who will watch me as I blast myself in the chest with a cannon and then stare down incredulously at the perfectly round hole I've made. I stare at the way someone can see behind me, through me now. Does hollowing myself mean they can see inside of me? Or does it make me something to look through, to look past? When I finally look up from my wound -- the wound I inflicted in an attempt at honesty, at vulnerability - who will be already looking into my tearful eyes, asking me whether I want to be helped or held? When I step forward, shaking and gaping, who will give me a kiss on the cheek and say,

"It makes sense what you did just there. I don't think you needed to though; we already see you. Let's wrap you up and let that heal, sunshine," 

Who is we?

The decentralized romantic partner. A partner that takes the form of a single lover and a tribal legion. The daily curtain call, the beaming side-eye, the exhilarating us-versus-them that is really a liberating us-in-and-among-them. I suppose it takes quite some time to be seen by the right people. Waiting for your big break, guessing-and-checking where you seek to be found.

Who will give me permission, and who will withhold permission from me? Do I trust myself to decipher?

These days, my softness is harder. It's in motion and it's setting.