I Used To Date A Felon

I used to date a felon.  A real live criminal who spent time in prison.  He had tattoos that were dangerous and stories that shocked me and a way about him that made me question my loyalty to the law.  Of course by the time I dated him he was out of prison and mostly living as a law abiding citizen.  But knowing his past made me feel alive. 

I used to drink until the wee hours of the morning.  The darker the bar, the dingier the atmosphere, the more I could breathe.  Stumbling home past the bus stop with children in their school uniforms and weighted down book-bags, ironically, I felt invincible. 

I used to be a lesbian. Edgy, wild and a little shocking considering I was the friendly cheerleader from small town Illinois.  I craved wild.  I demanded excitement.  I invited controversy. 

But sadly, my wild is wilting. I'm exhausted.  The other day I went to the grand opening of the  Publix grocery store and was happy to wander up and down the aisles alone.  No felons.  No  jägermeister shots.  Very few lesbians.  Just me and the Publix employees and a free balloon.

​I am not sure if this is age creeping up on me or I played all of my wild cards.  Whatever is happening, I welcome the change in pace.  I am not throwing in the towel but I am ready to exchange crazy for predictable.  I want to be one among many.  I strive to be a worker among workers. 

I am not sure if this kind of transformation is allowed.  I hope so.  I at least need a hiatus, a hall pass, a time out.   People tell me to act my way into right behavior.  Well, let the show begin.  I will be the normal looking woman tootling down the grocery store aisle, buying normal food, thinking normal thoughts and not at all attracted to the man behind the meat counter with tattoo sleeves holding a clever, wearing a blood stained apron offering to personally take care of my fresh meat needs.  Sigh.