Get What You Give

Driving Miss Maya to daycare this morning, I tuned in to the sweet, growling vocals of John Rzeznik professing, "I'd give up forever to touch you" and thought -- well that's a load of crap, now isn't it, John? You would never really say that to another human being without being driven by album sales would you? Did you even write that lyric? Chances are, a woman penned that gem; and yet, it was you we fell in love with, like we did Jane Austen's Mr. Darcy when he stole the discriminating heart of Elizabeth Bennet with one compelling statement: "I love you, most ardently." Never was there a more succinct, unabashed declaration of what women most want to hear; unfortunately, in all likelihood, never has another woman heard it. So, rather than live with the delusion there exists a lover so intuitive and forthright, I have chosen to come down to earth and make some (what I hope are) realistic demands.

Kill me with kindness, shower me with love and I'll be yours always. In other words, give it to me straight. If I piss you off tell me. If I make you happy let me know I'm appreciated. If I don't elicit either of these responses from you, then I am clearly a banal companion and not worth your while, so cast me aside and move on. Leave me alone with my mocha.

I'd rather not bother with those who value passion as a pleasant addition to a relationship rather than an incomprehensible-to-be-without necessity. I need to be longed for, "most ardently." The trouble is, so few present themselves inside-out, it becomes difficult to distinguish between a 50-cent-type character, who cares for little more than a hot bitch to "put it down" on him and an Edward-Bella-level connection.

I always thought Jacob was a better choice; he would have provided the best of both worlds, plus his passion is tangible -- he's hot to the touch. Sounds like the real deal to me.

With me, the real deal is all there is; you know exactly what you are getting. I think I scare some people; not the A-level Casanovas, but the basic player for sure. I draw closer those who, like me, are effortlessly inside-out. That's probably one of the reasons most of my students talk to me before and after class; I don't create boundaries and neither do most who are comfortable sweating half-naked with a group of strangers. As most yogis know, the real fun happens after class in the change room -- funny how people tend to ask me more questions when we're naked; I wonder if the male instructors experience the same.

The men are certainly the most fun from which to take class. Somehow, they're slightly more dominating than the ladies. Maybe this is just from a female perspective, but either way, if I'm in the mood to be punished, I check the schedule.

Yesterday morning Dave whipped us into submission, which was perfect. His message was tangible: It's hot, you're all struggling, so deal with it -- work with it. Dave is totally "inside out, bones to the skin, fingertips to the toes" and, since waxing his legs, very aerodynamic (thanks for sharing that harrowing experience in class, teach). Because of these qualities we, as instructors and practitioners, see ourselves in him -- so we appreciate and trust him. He often closes his classes by inviting everyone to come and share questions or concerns, assuring us they will be met with "open eyes and open ears," a compassionate, positive approach most of us would benefit from using both in and out of the room. Are you listening, lover?

I choose to live my life as open as possible -- eyes, ears, mind, heart -- irrespective of the consequences. I expect a lot from a partner, as well as from family and close friends. I strive to emanate light, love, laughter, passion and compassion (what can I say, I'm a great catch) and will not settle for much less in return (one must still be realistic).

As I grow older and wiser, I'm feeling the need to extricate myself from unworthy companionship. So, darling -- and I say this with the utmost kindness and gentle encouragement -- it may be time to bone up on your Austen.