Dirty Knees


In my dirty mind…my knees would be mussed up for than just having spent time in the garden.

(WARNING: this is going cover some sensual ground; not really R-rated, but I do mention and allude to sex. So, in the grand scheme of things, this post is for mature readers, regardless of age.)

I come from a heritage of sexually strong women; we’ve got a bit of the gypsy touch about us. We’re independent, feisty and sometimes, driven by lust to achieve our desires. And, we live on the road; our roots are established within the hearts of people, not necessarily, communities or homesteads.

I wouldn’t have been able to verbalize that when I got married in 2003 (it will probably take my lifetime in order to learn how to verbalize it appropriately).

But back then, I just knew I wanted a home; I wanted him to be my home. He grew up on the move, but within a very strong “homestead” kind of household. I wanted that for me, for my family (because I had never had it and I wanted my life to be different).

I didn’t realize that I would be on my own to create it. I wanted his help. I wanted his partnership. I got tired of expecting a 50/50 share of the workload and instead getting a belly full of disappointment, because he’d never commit to his share…or, even worse, that he’d commit so poorly that his share was worthless.

I learned not to trust him.
I realized my effort was in vain.

I didn’t have the heritage to support the lifestyle I wanted. I didn’t have someone who cared with me about what kind of lifestyle we lived. He understood the benefits of the lifestyle, but not the work and effort required to support it.

It’s hard to be in a partnership when only one person is hauling the weight. That one person gets tired. That one person resents the other for never following through. That one person suffers from a heart that’s weary with trying to trust over and over again. That one person wakes up day after day disillusioned over life, love, the future.

That one person – me – decided enough was enough.

Life alone is hard, but at least you know what to expect. There’s more effort, but less hurt over being left in the cold by the person who is suppose to have your back.

And my heart has plenty of passion to drive on the effort required to forge my own destiny. But no more room for hurt.


So back to where this post is suppose to be adult rated…

It occurs to me that in a 50/50 partnership, there should be all kinds of pros/cons that are faced together:

You buy a cookie cutter home in a new housing development with a tough-ass HOA and you pay the consequence of having to spend time with property management.

I don’t know of many people who actually enjoy the dirty work of property management. I am not one of those people. I can appreciate taking care of what I own and having pride for what I’ve committed to; but I also know how to call a lawn care provider and pay them to do the dirty work…and eat out a couple less times each month in order to afford it.

(Which would be right up my alley, since I’d rather spend time in the kitchen prepping meals to feed the people I love.)

But since our hands are dirty anyway…
Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to reward ourselves with pleasure for the hard, dirty work we’ve completed?

My philosophy in life is “if you work hard, then you should be allowed to play hard. You’ve earned it at that point, right?!”

I can’t tell you how much I would have loved to have been working in the yard with someone who believed this philosophy with me, someone who I trusted and respected. I would have given anything to be with someone who hated the work as much as me, but continued forward looking past the work to the part when the after-work-completed fun could ensue.

Does that make sense?
Because, if I’m dirty and sweating from working in the yard that’s our home, and you’ve been helping me, all I’m going to want to do after is jump your bones.

Sex would have made the whole afternoon spent in the yard worth it.

I don’t have sex with my ex.
So, there’s no fun to follow up the work.
It’s a real bummer.

Next time, if I ever get wrapped up into a cookie cutter home situation again, I’ll know what kind of person to look for: someone who understands that sex is like “the best treat ever” for any hard home work that gets done.

And in the meantime, I will put my nose to the grindstone and try to get this place ship-shaped up and done…so that I can move forward with my own gypsy story.