Today, work was great, up until I set the dish rags on fire. Let me back track. Earlier, I helped Dots carry some grocery items to her room. By this time it was late afternoon. We got to talking about the rumors that she heard.
“As a word of advice,” she said, “be careful who you tell stuff to and who you hook up with because it could mean potentially making girls really pissed off and standoffish with you. There could be some girls getting aggravated that you’re hitting on the dudes they’re hooking up with right in front of them.”
Assuming she was referring to Russ and Kaden, I said, “I asked them if they had girlfriends ahead of time.”
“Well, there are some people hooking up here that aren’t out in the open about it.”
“Well then how am I supposed to know?” I asked. “I find it annoying because I don’t know who’s with who and whose toes I’m stepping on because no one is actually coming up to me directly and telling me they feel uncomfortable.”
She agreed and said, “People don’t often like blunt/straightforward people.”
Funny how that is because most people claim they do up until they experience a person like that. I could tell her intentions were good and she was just looking out for me. After I finished helping her out, I walked back and ran into Russ in the hallway of trees. He pinched my hard nipples, enjoying that I walked around the property without a bra. Two seconds after that, I saw Mason and flirted it up with him. I loved when I had different men I could ping pong my sexual energy off of.
Okay, back to the dish rags that I apparently set on fire. Well, let’s be clear—they were smoking, not on fire. Long story short, there was a language barrier having to do with which setting ‘dish towels’ needed to be dried on. I figured the dining napkins needed to be dried on low heat, whereas the dish towels needed to be on medium since all of the other towels were dried on that setting, too. I had put them in a couple of boxes after they dried. A couple of hours had passed when suddenly there appeared to be an odd smell. Turned out, the grease stains from the rags had caused it to get too hot in the bin and so they started smoking.
One of my coworkers found the source, pulled the rags outside, threw them onto the concrete and poured buckets of water on them. I felt the increase in energy so I used the experience as a practice to breathe through it. I’ve never really been one to over dramatize things. To me it was like, “The dish rags are smoking. Cool. Let’s take them outside, throw some water on it, and move on.” But no, instead, one of the older women started giving me an attitude, saying how I need to pay attention. Another guy joined her in the condescending energy.
“You need to say something when you smell something burning,” she said, followed by asking how old I was.
“Almost 30!” I said with a smile on my face.
I could sense their embarrassment. “You’re almost 30 years old and you don’t know what the smell of something burning is?” she asked. “Haven’t you ever had anything set on fire?”
“No,” I said.
The only thing I’ve ever smelt that was ‘burning’ was walking on a trail close to a wildfire which always smelled like a delicious campfire. It honestly didn’t come to mind since it smelled more chemically if anything. I kept the situation light, letting them know it wasn’t a big deal, but people weren’t taking well to that response. The only person that took it light was Axle.
He came in with a pep in his step and a smile on his face. “Dish rags set on fire?”
“Yep!” I said as I continued to fold the clean sheets.
The older woman continued to gather everyone, pulling people from all directions into the laundry room even after the scene was long over. The G.M. came down and again she started, “I told her she needs to be more aware and tell people when she smells something burning!”
I did the double blink as if suggesting, Holy shit, this chick could not be more annoying.
I’m all about confronting in a kind way, but never in a ‘you fucked up, I’m going to intentionally make you feel like shit in front of everyone’ kine way.
I went to clock out, feeling really excited to go to the EDR, especially because I haven’t felt social in a while. Dots even checked in on me to make sure I was feeling welcome there since I haven’t been hanging around much. I usually felt spent being around people and loud machines all day so by the end of the day I just wanted to lay down.
Just as I punched out, the chef yelled, “Freyja!”
I looked at him through the screen above me. “Yes?”
“The rags you gave us set on fire in the kitchen.”
Naturally, I laughed out loud at the double drama that occurred. “Oh, that’s funny,” I said.
He sternly goes, “No, it’s not. You could’ve set the whole kitchen on fire.”
So, no more EDR after that moment. I just sank into a sense of sadness quite rapidly. Why couldn’t people meet me with playfulness? On the other hand, why did I feel like I needed other people to join me in order for me to feel light/playful?
I decided to go to Axle’s room instead of eating. I was equally happy and upset to find him there. Happy because I knew I could talk to him, but upset because I had a hard time showing that side of myself around others. I really hated putting my shit on people, usually priding myself in figuring it out on my own.
I sat on his bed with my left leg hanging over the edge. I grabbed the macramé ropes, even though I wanted to do anything but make art. I had no energy. I started measuring the cord out, completely out of focus.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Emotional,” I said, “I feel like I need to cry.”
“It’s a safe space for that,” he said.
I began to stretch and pull on the rope, twiddling it around and in between my fingers. Everything felt heavy. My eyes were welling up with tears. He took notice of it even though I didn’t make eye contact.
“The inspectors came in today,” he said, “they did a room check of all the management rooms. I got teased for the mannequin being in here. They asked if I made dresses for a hobby.”
The vision made me laugh out loud, momentarily breaking me out of the thoughts. I felt grateful for a moment of happiness, but as the stories reentered my mind, my smile lessened.
“You can’t always show up happy,” he said.
“I know,” I said as the first tear rolled down my cheek, attempting to keep my smile intact. “I just feel like everyone hates me,” I voiced. “I feel like everyone keeps talking about me, but no one is actually coming up to my face and saying it.”
He took a deep breath, gentle in his demeanor. “A lot of people are curious about you because you are so open whereas most people keep that kind of stuff private and hidden.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I can’t help it, though. In a way it feels like no one can ever use anything against me because I just make it all public.”
He nodded in agreement. “Look at it like this,” he said, “when you are younger and you’re in school, some people are different and those kids get picked on and made fun of the most because people don’t understand them.”
“I could see that. It just feels cowardly when no one looks into my eyes and tells me. I find it would hurt less than all the mind games and whispering behind closed doors.” I confessed that I even felt he, too, was mad at me. All of a sudden, I felt scared of the things I apparently did. “You brought me out here. You trusted me and I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”
I knew my work ethic was good, but I also didn’t openly write ‘sex addiction’ on the ‘weaknesses’ part of my resume. I’ve often quit jobs because of not having the faith in myself being surrounded by temptation. Having sex with the regulars or management was the norm for me. I’d be hooking up with men in parking lots, kitchens, office tables—you name it. I couldn’t work in environments where there was a lot of temptation, especially bars because people under the influence were easy targets. Hence the good part of owning my own business, I guess. I didn’t have many male customers, and if I did, most of my interactions were kept online.
Axle immediately shook his head then sat forward and focused his gaze into my pupils. “I think you’re awesome,” he said, “It doesn’t matter what you did, or with who.” He scooted closer. “Freyja, I’ve read your blog for years now. I know what you write.”
I softened, releasing the tension from my shoulders.
“It doesn’t matter to me what other people say because I like to base how I feel around that person,” he continued. “You have been nothing but respectful with me. You know that I’m celibate, and you’ve never made an advance at me.”
My eyes gave me away in that instant. I immediately felt grateful he voiced that because I was definitely going to make a move on him. I guess I could see how it was actually considered honorable to respect a boundary someone has set no matter if my temptation clouds my better judgment. All of the abstinent/celibate dudes I hooked up with, it was coming from wanting to show them that they were still sought after, so making a move on them was always meant to be taken as a compliment.
But, I genuinely knew how challenging it could appear for Axle because we were one in the same in that regard. Throughout different intervals of my life, I have chosen to be abstinent for extended periods of time. At one point, I actually felt like a virgin all over again. That time, I decided to revisit my community in Hawaii. People were tempting me from all directions, offering threesomes and orgies—anything I wanted, whenever with whomever. I only lasted one day before I broke.
It felt really nice to feel Axle’s words caress me. I still find that is the most healing way to meet another person—heart to heart, all bullshit and harsh judgments aside. I felt much better knowing that these were all just thoughts in my mind that I believed to be true and brought myself to cry because of them.
I told him I would like to get more macramé stuff and that I would be back shortly.
Before I left his room, he said, “Oh Freyja, the only thing I ask of you is to just please not hook up with any of the couples here.”
He kindly expressed he didn’t want to get in the way of my writing flow or the things that could potentially happen, but if there was any way I could avoid doing that, it would be highly appreciated.
I bit my tongue. I seemed to have a very rebellious personality and was like a child when it came to being told not to do something. If he would’ve said, “Please, Freyja, hook up with all of the couples,” I would want to do the very opposite. Something in my brain would’ve lost interest in chasing after that mission.
Then I thought, Why is it always the woman’s fault but not the guy who apparently moved in that direction of infidelity? Why is the woman the one who has to apparently control her behavior?
It brought me back to high school when I would get sent to the Dean’s office nearly everyday over my outfit choices, getting blamed for being the problem and the reason boys were not focusing.
“You’re distracting the boys.”
Yet the boys were never taught maturity, basic respect and looking the other way if it was so distracting.
In regards to infidelity, we are energetic beings and can all sense when we are being manipulated or moving towards something such as cheating. We just pretend as if it’s not occurring, however the energy is either there or it is not. You can choose to deny or acknowledge it. It’s not to make you feel shitty when you sense the energy, it’s simply about being honest about it and staying in observation. We can feel when someone is meeting us with sexual energy and we can also notice when we are entertaining it. I took a breath, aware it was an emotionally charged topic for me. I knew I had no control over the things I would apparently do/say. The actions and experiences were only the past playing out.
As I was walking to my room, I began to cry again for no particular reason. Paramour saw me in the hallway of trees and immediately empathized with me. She pulled me into her arms. I was stiff. A wall had clearly been built around openly showing this side of myself.
“You are safe,” she whispered.
I rested my chin on her right shoulder. The view of the mossy trees became blurry behind my film of tears. I closed my eyes as I felt the depth of her words bathe me. My muscles relaxed as I let it all out with an ugly cry. I felt so grateful for sisterhood. I don’t know how I didn’t see the importance of female friendships when I was younger. I used to pride myself in only having male friends, however now it’s the opposite. She held me tight until I calmed down. I thanked her for holding space then went back to my room and grabbed some macramé supplies.
When I headed back to Axle’s room, his door was locked. I knocked a couple of times but he didn’t answer. I was standing there with a stuffed animal Vance had bought me, along with a family sized box of chips ahoy cookies. I started crying as I began munching. Unbeknownst to me, Hook caught me in my vulnerable expression. His eyes stared me down, as if saying, What the fuck is this girl on? Ah, the exact reason I preferred to be alone in a dark room where no one could see me during the time of my month. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
I ran to the parking lot and saw Axle, feeling relieved that he didn’t hate me and wasn’t opening the door because he physically wasn’t there. I’m really trying to work on not making harsh assumptions. He proceeds to tell me that there’s a Lithuanian guy that flew in to work for the lodge. I could not believe it! He said he was at the EDR so I ran! On the way there, everyone was stopping me to tell me the news. I walked into the building and saw a new head in the corner of the room. He was in the very back eating alone. I approached him in extreme excitement. I definitely looked like I was on crack when I introduced myself. My eyes were puffy and swollen red from crying. I was cradling my stuffed animal as if it were my safety net and had a few cookies left in my palm. But oh my God, did my entire demeanor change around him. Suddenly, I was all smiles.
“Labas! Aš Freyja, bet gali vadinti mane Goda (Hello! I’m Freyja, but you can call me Goda),” I said.
He stood up to shake my hand. “Aš Juozas,” he said with a full smile that stayed put.
Spirit always provides. I remember thinking how awesome it would be to have someone Lithuanian here because I wanted to keep practicing speaking my language as it has always seemed important to me. I haven’t been talking to my family much so I didn’t feel I had anyone to practice on. And then, BAM! The managers weren’t even expecting him and kind of got him by accident. For me, it was the best surprise ever.
After spending a good hour with him at the table, I invited him for a walk around the loop trail.
“It’s a quick 20 minute walk,” I said, “I would love to show you around.”
He was down. We took it so slow, taking all the little side trails and spending time at each lookout point. We only spoke in Lithuanian. He would often start speaking Russian in between and it would throw me off guard so he would have to translate. We looked into the swamp that I was meditating by the other day, the one where I was envisioning how nice it would be to be so far away from people in an actual remote area.
He looked into the dark water and asked, “Don’t you think this would be really scary if you were here alone and this boardwalk wasn’t here? Like if you came across this place all by yourself in the dark?”
Oh, boy, did I laugh. I said to him how I intentionally walk in the dark alone and hope to come across extremely remote places.
He said, “If we ever do a hiking trip together, you’re going to have to sign a waiver so as to not get me into any rural areas where I may come across some bears.”
Another thing I intentionally try to run into—large wildlife.
We stood at another lookout point, not speaking for a minute or so. All we could hear were the crows screaming their screeching melodies for several seconds.
“Mm, relaxing,” he said sarcastically.
I felt like we were both trying to extend time together. He kept asking where and what we should do next, even though he knew I had other plans for the night. It felt so healing to be around a sense of my culture and receive such a strong taste of home. We walked along the beach and everything about the experience felt so romantic. The Fairweathers in the background, wind in our hair. Rosy cheeks from the chilled air and our eyes wet from the back to back laughter.
We joked about getting gray hairs, him only being 23 and already getting them.
“I found two,” he said, “next month I found four!”
“Same here, dude.”
We checked out native plants and the whale skeleton put on display by the lodge. Then, we went inside the lodge and up the stairs to check out the taxidermy display of various kine animals. He asked me to pick out the one that I thought best represented him. I picked the mountain goat.
“Ah, yes,” he says, “I don’t have the looks, but at least I have the strong personality.”
What a gift he had to make people laugh so effortlessly, collapsing time and bringing us closer to Home. It was just so much fun to be around him, as if all of a sudden I had a good friend. To my surprise, he was also super flirty. I kind of expected him to be nerdy upon first meeting him, but then later he made a comment about putting me in handcuffs for wanting to do something bad.
“That form of punishment wouldn’t work on me,” I said, subtly preparing him for where my mind would eventually lead him.
During the walk, we were both very touchy, comfortable being in close physical proximity to one another, often bumping shoulders because I couldn’t walk in a straight line for the life of me. But he kept talking about his girl, so I knew he was taken. It was also very common for Europeans to be extremely touchy and flirty so I tried not to let it get too much to my head.
He was surprised I didn’t have a husband and I told him I didn’t want one yet. I went on my spiel how I felt dudes would often say they wanted to date me, attempting to pursue me in all sorts of ways but I would often have the perfect excuse to deny them access to my heart.
“It won’t work with the type of lifestyle I have.”
“I don’t enjoy backpacking/hitchhiking with a partner.”
“I love my own company more than anything.”
I had the perfect line for each and every man that began to fancy me, pushing them away before they had a chance to get too close.
I looked at Juozas and continued, “And when men find out I am highly emotional and not as carefree as I appear, they don’t really want to put in the effort and will usually leave on their own. They fall in love with the idea that I’m passing.”
I often blamed men for having issues with commitment, yet I’m starting to think it might actually be me.
