Comfort in a real, honest, living, evolving, passionate relationship should be an anomaly – but it seems to be a more and more prevalent word used to describe partnerships I see developing all around me. When someone describes their relationship as comfortable I die a bit on the inside. I happen to believe that in an intimate relationship, a partnership or a marriage- being comfy is the last thing I ever want to be. It is a dead end street and a steel cold knife jabbing into the vibrancy and meaningfulness of the connection that probably got us together in the first place.
Being comfortable in my mind is death by boredom and self-denial of all the amazing twists, turns and possibilities this life of ours actually offers us each and every day. It is an excuse to stand still. It is permission to lie down and submissively roll through the motions without ever really getting involved in what is going on outside of our comfortable little lives. It is acceptance without expectation.
It tears up the dreamer, schemer and acrobat inside each and every one of us. I want to be nervous when she walks into the room. I want to feel that rush and slight breathlessness that comes with the anticipation and realization of an attraction that simply cannot be ignored. I want to be wanted and wanted and wanted. In all three ways…..I do not want to be comfortable with my love. I want to have my heart do that double beat flip flop skip when she slips her hand over mine, or rubs against me to reach for the remote. I want my eyes to shift from hers when I know what that light coming from them is really trying to show me. I want to anticipate that kiss goodnight and all the secrets it might contain. I want to smell her cheek when she whispers in my ear and know that by pulling her in neither one of us are going to be very comfortable for too many moments longer…
A comfortable life is fine for those who seek it I suppose. But in my world a life without unbridled passion, unchoreographed desire and reckless intimacy is a settlement – a resignation – a treaty of sorts. Fuck the treaty. I want the war. I want the surrender and the resurrection. I want the sweat and the dance, the battle and the scar – I want the uncomfortable comfort of a raw, enthusiastic kind of love.
If it’s comfort that I am looking for – that warm glazed donut and steaming cup of coffee will do the trick.
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About K. Guzman
Kathy grew up all over the US - lots of east coast time. She is a surfer girl with an unabridged curiosity. A woman whose mid life awakening continues to bring her to the place she was meant to be. Her degree in Journalism/Creative Writing from the University of Central Florida is being yanked from the archives and put to good use. Her two kids are grown and rock stars in this wild world – her Harley is ready for some serious summer miles – and her heart remains open to life, women and the possibilities each day brings.