The fair Port of Not Giving a Shit.
It’s a fabulous destination I think I should visit more often. It’s as near as a tub full of steamy bath water, or a lawnchair under the shade of an older than old maple tree.
After a while, it takes less time to get there, and it’s further away from where you started.
Being a ‘Woman of a Certain Age’, I know that I’ve settled some deep unconscious niggling when I arrive there, completely unattached and content.
It took me years to realize that relationships are not what I wish them to be. They are what they are, whether it’s a friendship, a job, or a lover. I used to live in the fantasy of the potential I saw, and end up being disappointed with the reality as it failed to blossom into that ever-optimistic-potential that I fantasized about so often.
Le sigh indeed my darlings.
But it’s not a bad ‘le sigh’. It’s just le sigh. A ‘le sigh’, as in, ‘oh well, pour me another please, and don’t be shy’.
Ever the optimist, I like to believe in people. I like to believe that people are, at their most basic element, good, just, and loving.
Although I refuse to budge from that perspective, I have learned to accept that sometimes, despite potential, people are assholes. Pardon my French…perhaps I should say…no, wait, they’re just assholes.
So, tonight, as I kicked back with an icy, sparkling, wine spritzer, I found myself snuggly harboured in the Port of Not Giving a Shit. And I liked it there.
Why don’t you come by and say hello?