Chill boys. Fire Women

“I’m a go-with-the-flow kinda guy. Let’s just see where it goes? At least I’m being honest.”

In my past, I’ve loved men like this. The ones who project themselves as easygoing, happy-go-lucky, chilled out and relaxed. I’m not a woman who’d be described as cool. I’m passionate, hot, intense, ready-or-not-here-I-come.

I have a thirst for life that is only quenched by drinking it in deeply. There is nothing accidental about my choices. I live life on purpose.

I used to think a cooler demeanor would simmer my blaze to moderate my temperature. That, maybe I wouldn’t be so flaming angry when my expectations weren’t reached if I learnt how to demand less out of life. Out of people; myself.

Perhaps my emotional vibration would become more accessible if I reduced the magnitude of my capacity to feel it all. To reach for everything simultaneously. These boys could be my teachers. The shallow to my deep.

Isn’t learning what we’re here to do? That maybe middle ground is where it’s at. Isn’t that balance?

But here’s the thing:

That which we fear within ourselves is our greatest protection. Our sweet spot of actualization. Our internal fire is nothing to fear.

These flow-guys aren’t the teachers they seem. But they are good for something… they’re kindling.

I’ve realized that you’ve got to have actually dived into the river to flow down the stream. It takes active participation and a commitment to a choice that you’ve made. There is no flow without the jump.

So while I’ve been treading water in the river, waiting for them to jump off the rock so that we can see where it goes, they’re still looking over the edge playing it safe: inactive.

Testing the water by dipping their toes, they’ll never know the experience of the plunge. The totality of what it means to go all in.

There is nothing aspirationally cool or chill about boys like this — a better description would be frozen by fear.

Perhaps a more honest disclaimer would be “Hey, nice to meet you, I’m a coward. This means that while I’m keen to see what being with you would be like, I’m too afraid to actually try. So can we just have a pretend/pseudo relationship? You know, the one when you expect nothing of me, but give me all the benefit of being the real deal?”

Why would we ever say “Sure! Yes! Sounds great!”?

Without knowing it, they’re there to fuel what we fear, until we’re consumed and transformed by it. That we’re too muchscarycrazyfiery, wild — damn fucking straight! I’m done suppressing flames.

Embracing all you are means accepting all elements. The only life I can consider is one immersed. And this means integration.

But I cannot be brave for both of us. It’s exhausting, unfair and leaves a residue of fury.

If the boy is taunting me with repeated hope of more, through his kisses, his kindness, his time, but he never delivers, he’s never quite mine… I will burn him to the ground.

These chill boys make me do the very thing I’d hoped they’d diminish. They don’t cool me down — they make me heat up. Like gasoline to my flames, I rise up from the waters to engulf them on their rocks.

My fire is hungry and feeds on their fodder, consuming them, destroying what’s left inside. I rage. And when I do, I want to burn it all down.

Only out of the ashes do I rise up again, imbued with the wisdom of surviving another rejection of our most powerful collective gift: love. Mine, unrequited.

People get hurt playing it safe. Presenting yourself with a disclaimer does not negate that. You’re selfish, not chill. Generosity, without accompanying emotional connection, is a cultivated cruelty.

Taking it easy is all very well, as long as you are taking it only to begin with. There is no shirking the responsibility of choice.

Get in or get the fuck out.

So through the inevitable burning at my highest velocity and voltage again and again and again, through the consumption, a transformation has occurred. My fire has become self-generating.

It burns bright, deep within, fueled through the wisdom of past experience. And I’m done trying to simmer it with the weak watery splashes from boys’ toes.

What’s done cannot be undone, but the new trajectory of my experience is based off an internal glow I’ve accepted. What I feared made me dangerous and terrifying to men, now keeps me snug at night.

I am kept warm and comforted by my fire, not the arms of another. I have a fire within me. I’m here to burn bright.