I re-read the first two essays in The flawed master early this morning. I want to move onto the next essay, but I’m slightly stuck. Feeling a bit lost.

I’ve almost always allowed Change to come to me and I accepted it, even if I was entirely happy with it. A few times in my life, I effected Change, and it’s been good.

My husband.

I was nearing my 30th birthday and was tired of the nitwits I seemed to attract. I was also *gasp* still “untouched” as they once said. Groped, yes, but that was it.

Dating and I never really got along. I dated once in high school and the boy was so determined to make me a part of his family, and have his own large family with me (he had 12 brothers and sisters) that I broke things off immediately. I was terrified of becoming a brood mare and being stuck forever in Missouri.

In my twenties I dated a bit more, and good lord, was it ever an odd assortment of men that I met. One fellow, was very kind, and fascinating, but when he asked me to move to the commune where his family lived and he’d grown up in, I ran in the other direction. The Jim Jones Tragedy was still very recent and so I had that vision in my head.

I met a millionaire (slim, dove grey suit, white hair – he was just missing a dragon-headed walking stick, and flowing robes). He didn’t want a wife. He wanted a mistress. There was a long time there when I thought I was a real idiot for not taking that offer. Now, I’m glad that I didn’t. I would probably be on the Real Housewives show by now with a half dozen face lifts, botox, and tummy tuck. Bleh.

When mom and I moved to Monterey after her divorce, the odd fellows just kept showing up. One very charming fellow was an instructor at the Defense Language Institute. He was also the ninth son of an African tribal king. Not that such a distinction meant much then, but it was still intriguing.

My unfortunately prejudiced father had a thing or two to say about the fact that the young man was black, and there ended that relationship.

Next came another wealthy individual who was shorter than me, was a volunteer fanatic, and shopped at thrift stores or received free clothing at the churches. Skinflint with a capital “S” and sloppy. It took one icky kiss from him and I sent him on his way.

I then met two bad boy types. One was a pompous knife wielder, the other smoked too much, and I later discovered, was married.

When the last jerk dumped me, I broke down at the bus plaza and didn’t move from my spot, making myself three hours late for work. My boss, who had called my mother to see where I was and learning that I wasn’t home, went in search of me and found me at the bus plaza. I cried on his shoulder, he then took me for a hot chocolate, and then helped me to write an advertisement for the personals column in the local event newspaper.

I made no bones about it in my ad – I was looking for a husband.

I finally began to meet some interesting, not so out of this world, men. There was a computer guy that I would have gotten more serious with, but he was caught up in the closure of Fort Ord, and the timing wasn’t right. In between coffee dates with him, I met Richard.

Except for a weekend where he had to go to San Jose, CA to visit his family, we spent nearly everyday together. Nine months later, living in sin, we decided we ought to just get married and make it official.

I made the Change. I put my demands to the universe (popular new age sentiment, at the time), and there it was. Richard and I have had our ups and downs, but we’ve gotten through them, and it’s good.

Change is in the wind and this is one of those times when I have to choose to act upon what I desire. It’s daunting. It makes me feel lost, and when I feel that way, I purposefully lose sight of what I should be doing and become conveniently distracted by “other things”.

That’s why I say I’m stuck on The flawed master and cannot go further. I… know… that the other essays will mean nothing to me if I don’t heed the words in the first two essays. I feel as though I am not permitted to read any further until I begin this Change in my life. Now.

And do I have excuses ready for why I cannot do this? Oh hell yeah. I’m good at those. Too good.