Pleased to meet you

So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politness
Or Ill lay your soul to waste, um yeah
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, um yeah
But whats puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, um mean it, get down
Woo, who
Oh yeah, get on down
(Rolling Stones)

"my name is Fonce"

And so it began. I was very pleased to meet you, brave Warrior Fonce. Very pleased to see you walk through my wagon flaps and settled onto what I am now figuring, is your couch. You clean up nice and boy...there is something to be said for physical attraction that knocks the senses loopy and makes everything a dizzy parade of thoughts.

I would have thought I would be writing that my wild and crazy man waltzed into my life and with all the grace of a gentleman accepted my gratitude with a polite reply and offered me the sanctity of a secure place to wait out my days and my next decision. Nothing of the sort happened, though I am not in any way disappointed, just in quite a spot and not really sure what to do with myself.

I am not all that used to being around boys my age. I am not used to being around men even close to my age. I suppose I was to learn the subleties of such things when I joined my family in the City. I was VERY happy to see him both alive and doing well. It was the injuries and his build that actually clicked for me, and I realized this cleaned up version was the man I pinned so much faith and trust on. With the niceties over with, I wanted to know more about him. There was a lot on my mind, alot of questions and things I figured I should be thinking of.

He was so easy to talk to. Even if he started everything off on a roll that took a path I didn't quite want to travel yet. He made it utterly clear that he owned my future. I wanted to know exactly what that meant. I wanted to know what it meant - to him. I understood what it meant to the Paravaci, I understood the concept, I had an inkling of at least some of the import of the chain at my ankle. I wanted to know his intentions. Maybe I was just trying to buy time, but I had learned that my survival had depended on knowledge, acceptance, and action. He seemed as interested in me as I in him. He has an easy way about doing such that left me spilling my dreams in short order, all the while inspecting me. My dreams, as colorful and grand as they are, were never so defined to have detail and explicit content. They have shifted and changed since I left the ranch, absorbing my experiences and the colors left behind. I explained that to him, that a man at my table with fat children upon my knee were not the requirement. I had been taught, through example and belief, to be open to all options that life had to offer. Both my time alone, and my time with the merchant caravan had shown me that my dream might evolve so much differently than I thought.

There were times, brief flashes of moment, when I noted something deep within him. He spoke of giving up on his own dreams. I did not, and do not want to believe that our dreams can be so wrong, and I told him as much. Perhaps it is times and circumstance that has brought him to such a point. I know I am not ready to give up on my dreams, but defining them is not as easy as I thought they would be. He had a way of gently probing them so that I could see where they needed more attention. It was a bit uncomfortable, to feel that uncertain, but I wondered if he was in fact passing on experience learned. His wants are very definite, and that comes as no surprise to me. I figure he has put a good amount of trial and error into them to find that simple answer. My answer seems vague and rather uncertain. Even more so once he laid out a decision for me to make.

There was this issue of him owning my future, paid for by his actions. The very ones I attributed to him with full gratitude. By rights, I knew I was just dancing around the issue and it wasn't mine to bargain with. If it were a normal setting, the whole thing might now be easier. I could use my skills to adapt, whether it be to succumb, or grow in the hatred of the situation. Alas, that was not my fate. He honored my family's heritage and gave me a choice. To leave, or submit.

Oh what have I gotten myself into?