I have what my friends call
a “slutty heart” because I’m
promiscuous when it comes to love.
But, the first step to recovery
is acceptance so here I go.
I have this unexplainable penchant
for always finding someone who
“just gets me,” a boy who plays sports
and listens to the music I suggest,
whose smile makes my heart
pound out of my chest.
Who likes sitting next to me
on the bus, hand hovering
just long enough to make me
wish he’d place it with mine
(and hopefully discover
the little oysters I hide
just below my tongue).
But as the relationship develops,
I’ll begin to complain and whine
when I realize that he doesn’t
really get me at all. Quite frankly,
I don’t care for football
and he doesn’t care for Phil Collins
and his hands are too sweaty for me to bear.
So I move on to someone else,
maybe Mr. Scholarly with the brains
who can recite poetry and
likes to enunciate my name.
Eventually even he won’t be enough.
And I have to remind myself
again and again that it’s not
exactly a problem with me, per se.
My slutty heart always gets its way.
Maybe I need to be more selective
with how I spend my time,
with who I go out with, talk to,
choose to confide-
I’m a lone sailor being thrust
around stormy weather,
praying for any passing ship
to give me a hand. But I’m not
a lone sailor, I’m an adventurer
all on my own and not just anyone
can be my second mate.
Slutty heart, you great big slut,
why don’t you know what you deserve?
Ted Mosby knew what he was saying
when he insisted that we find someone
who doesn’t tolerate our quirks
but actually loves them. Apparently,
my slutty heart doesn’t like the
advice of a TV show because
it makes the same mistakes
again and goddamn again.
Someday, I’ll be paddling around
open waters, compass in hand
and the storm clouds brewing
may not have been planned
but I’ll brave through them
(alone, if I must) for
this slutty heart will not get its way.
I’ll turn up the radio and
sing along to “In The Air Tonight,”
just exploring and biding my time.
It’s time to be picky.
I’m determined to be
on the road to recovery
and since acceptance
is the first step,
here I go:
I have what my friends
have nicknamed a “slutty heart.”