*Editor’s note: well-deserved strong language ahead!
~

I should have known better.

Waze was directing my 90-minute drive, yet by the time I crested Skyline Boulevard and smelled sunlight breaking through the fog, my brain spun. I turned 200 feet too soon.

I knew it immediately. And I didn’t care.

A siren song of redwoods shimmied up this road before me. I had to wind higher and higher, breathe myself back into my body, and remember I needed a safe place to make a U-turn. Kacey Musgraves’ mandolin on “Oh, What a World” strummed my heart.

I’d not been to the “all kinds of magic” Oakland Hills since I moved away at 13. Until my parents split, we ridiculously brave little girls were deposited half a mile away to blissfully race our horses on these trails.

Of all the places for him to suggest we hike on a first date…

I arrived at the trailhead 10 minutes late and as giddy as a preteen galloping bareback. We’d not yet met in person, but I saw his chick magnet Doodle-dog from the Zoom I’d requested the night before to reassure him, “I’m not a stalker.”

“Or I’m not,” he teased.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “That, too.”

His Doodle, sporting matching grey curls, trotted toward me first. Six inches from a grand slam meet-cute, Doodle lost all game, veered left, and lifted a leg. “Sorry,” my date apologized.

“Priorities,” I replied. “Sorry, I’m late.” I’d never had a semi-blind date before. Do I hug? I reached out to greet him, rising up on my toes. He was a vision board dreamboat, dammit.

As we descended the trail, I touched each tree bark and bush, sighing and willing myself to calm the goosebumps. He was handsome, yes, but what angels conspired for me to be back in my happy hills having a date?

And then, air raid sirens. Literally, the air raid sirens from my Cold War childhood began blaring from every tower below. “Is that typical?” I asked.

He squinted at the skies, considering, “No.”

I slipped my phone from my backpack to check for duck and cover alerts. “No signal.”

“Me, either. I think we’ll be okay,” he said, offering his hand.

“Okay, so… let’s say they’re using the air raid sirens because there actually is an incoming threat for the end of the world. If we had 15 minutes to live, what would you want to do?”

He pursed his lips, and we stepped into a narrow sliver of oaky shade. “Well, since we just met…I’d want to take both your hands, sit down facing one another, and then tell one another the best parts of our lives.”

I stopped. “Ceremony? You’d want to do ceremony with me?”

“Ceremony,” he smiled. “Yes.”

Source must have sorted it out for me. After 22 years of marriage, three kids, divorce, and a string of interesting and wildly confusing partners, as the air raid sirens blared, this tall drink was the fated final witness. We could have 15 minutes or forever. But first, ceremony.

Or not. I’ve been lucky in love, but with this man, my barometer broke. My vision was a 6’2” blind spot. He crushed my compass, and my GPS was down.

Accountability check-in? There were markers. Waze was clear about when to turn. I turned early. The Doodle dashed up and peed on the bush. And air raid sirens? I didn’t mention that after our post-hike froyo, he whispered, “Let’s go back to my place and fuck like college kids.”

I giggled, “Noooo,” and dashed into traffic.

We had a few more dates. It got yummy. Then, poof, he ghosted, which was new. Confusing. Worse, months later, charming Doodle-daddy texted he’d been thinking about me.

“Me, too.” (Me, too?)

He then sexted and proposed 50 shades of bullshit about choking me.

I’m a survivor of kidnapping, rape, and attempted murder by strangulation. That was important second-date, before-we-go-further intel. I’d admitted it straight up and early, “I know it’s really soon to mention this, but I’m not into any dark shit because…”

“I’ll only do what you want. Nothing you don’t,” he reassured. Now, six months later, he’d “forgotten.” The sext burst into flames. I didn’t reply. I worried for every woman. I called two girlfriends and my therapist.

A week later, I asked to Zoom. Hot, quiet tears escaped as I asked, “Why would you ever want to choke a woman and ‘play’ killing her?”

“My former liked it.”

“I’m out.”

“You’ll be back.”

“No.” Click. I exited the Zoom.

True story. Now, I’m thinking about our country, the world, and how we got here. How more than one serial rapist has power-grabbed, played these sick games, and we’ve allowed it. Again.

We want to play nice, say we want peace, health, happiness, and prosperity, but since childhood, we’ve played war games. Now it’s the sleep-walking zombie apocalypse versus punch-drunk peacekeepers. And this bullshit violence we’ve allowed into our homes is the “entertainment world’s” dripping poison dart of drama and conflict.

I’m no prude, but I can’t condone it anymore. The Hero’s Journey says evil must be vanquished, but it starts with courage for all we love, including ourselves.

We go vegetarian for environmental reasons. For humanitarian relief, I propose the following to help heal the insidious violence:

See it. Stop it. In the bedroom and everywhere.

Don’t suggest it or agree to it.

Stop watching it.

Stop cosplaying, soft or hardcore.

Our bodies and souls need trust, not terror. Playing at killing or hurting someone or allowing someone to do so hurts our souls and humanity. Enslavement is never healthy nor part of a civilized or moral society. Rapists rape. It’s not a game. It’s an escalation of violence.

Crave power? Love more.

Save our planet or be a force for human rights.

Don’t denigrate or torture another being because you’ve been hurt.

Get therapy. Fix that broken part inside that says it’s okay to harm another to get off or feel alive.

Want to heal our world? Or you? It starts, ends, and begins again with loving well.

Lovers, love.

Try authenticity or deep love in ceremony. Tell one another about your favorite parts of life. Then, share beauty, laughter, wonder, and purpose.

We may have 15 minutes left. Or 15 years. More, if blessed. But remember, we are sacred. Sex is glorious. Share the best of it.

Wash feet. Join hearts. Grow. Pray. Dance. And love better.

Uplift one another. Love one another for sacred joy. Love to honor life.

And love, always.

~