So....what is it exactly about the ordinary, the mundane, the everyday, that is so compelling. Most of us seem willing to walk away from it when our tastebuds are enthralled by a new flavor. Many of us have walked out on perfectly good relationships because the mundane equated to being bored, being unfulfilled, being stuck in a rut. Yet, on reflection, isn't it the quiet walk along a dusty trail, with the dogs happily rustling in the bushes, the sun setting on a spring evening, the unspoken understanding and acceptance of each other's flaws, that is the stuff of real contentment? Isn't it the routine stopping at a familiar cafe and the standard order of a drink and pastry that soothes the otherwise uncertain status of the coming day, isn't it the smell of a face cream, or the scent of a body lotion that evokes the strongest sensory eruptions of familiarity and comfort?
Is it the passionate sex you miss when an involvement ends, or is it the way they look over at you when driving, the way their hands turn blue in the cold, the laundry soap they use that gets you thinking about their eyes for some reason, or the way in which digging a vegetable garden brings soil to the surface and with it, a warm taste of earth and beers at the end of the day.
And why is the loss of the mundane that which seems to create the most vitriolic seething rage when one leaves the other? It isn't the shock inducing orgasms on a starry night, not the intense sex on the wooden deck, leaving a splintered rash raised on the back, not the memory of the things said in a moment of complete helplessness, No, none of that. It's the common ground of the commonplace. Because it's on that ground that you've shed the skins of self protection, scaled the walls of defenses and put away the antenna of the hyper aware.
And it's when you become deprived of the commonplace that the real thud of loss comes into focus. And why is it that although the mundane, the everyday, can pretty much be shared with anyone - your friends, family or colleagues - it is when she picks the beets out of your salad, when she sits squatting in the sunshine, when her voice is on the other end of the phone, that a sort of calm descends.
I'm conflicted. That's all. Aren't we all? And the more choices we are given, the more conflicted we become. There isn't much support for lesbian relationships in this world - a constant sense that somehow our 'unions' are not to be taken seriously. And the very real need for some legal equity, the same 'rights' as our heterosexual compadres is creating a monster, in my mind - of nasty divorces, fury filled separations, curbside battles over posession of the cat, and a curious forgetfulness of what it is, what it was, that made this woman, the beacon of the mundane, the Sunday paper and coffee companion of our dreams, the one whose car pulling up causes a flutter of recognition.
My friend Susie - and dare I admit - the woman of the commonplace for me for 12 years, (once upon a time in the sunset) suggests that my blogs tend to take sudden turns. She's right of course, and this one is no exception. I travel along a path, and all of a sudden I see a turn off the highway, through fields, and into an unknown village in the countryside. It just has to be done. In England once, she and I took the kind of risk you only take with the one who has given the gift of the commonplace. In a rented car, and with absolutely no idea where we were, except to know it was Cornwall, we took the road less travelled and for close on 40 miles, laughed until we could laugh no more on a one lane backroad, anticipating at every moment that a herd of cattle, a hay truck or a lonely Mini Minor would greet us coming the other way, and there simply was no place to turn around.
It was a search, a successful one, for the mundane.
Footnote: Don't worry if I sound a bit soft today. I'll be back on my rage against the abandonment of our autonomy in the pursuit of relationships at any cost - on Monday.
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