Observation: Alpha Beta


Many support the traditional roles played in a marriage as the normal and therefore best.

Although I applaud this Alpha female’s awareness of her communication challenges with her husband, and I support her assertiveness to figure out what she needed to do to adjust in her own role, I must reject her blanket approach to solving marital issues by encouraging women to move to the beta role.

Take the suggestion and apply it to a partnership between two men or two women. How do we then define who should take the Alpha role and who should take the Beta role to improve communication?

Instead, where should one adjust to enable a good communication?

At the root of human nature, partnered creatures or strangers on the street – everyone seeks soft words and a safe space to express regardless of whether it leads to sex or simply to more satisfying conversations on any topic.


Manners, please. 


#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.

Round the Bend


Thrust me into the decision making.

I’ve floundered too long, flexed the muscle of time to the point of strain.

I’m not going to fix this. I can see the history I’ve refused to accept.

Off-kilter that’s me. Berating myself to avoid your jealousy. Wondering about my ability

to give, to love. My capacity for your greed overwhelms.

I have loved. I have given all of it. I have found distraction in the mundane of child making, of baby raising, of playdate faking.

You have loved, provided, chided, guided. The bank knows your name but I have forgotten your body, your face.

Your kiss

has gone missing.

There’s a home-maker, a bread-baker, a little missus the diaper-changer. They grow, they fuss. There’s a party-shaker, a class dessert- maker, a fund-raiser.

He carries on. She does the same. The chaos lived is the name of the game. She graces this home. He takes the reigns. They find themselves making glorious gains.

In investments

Square footage

Claims to fame

But through it all, desire wanes, friendship claims

drift off.

Two cease to see the common ground, the riches found, the worship in the simple sounds




Connect with me, love. Make me cry out for your need. Let me embrace you in your want. And satisfy. 

#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.


Done Drifting


Let me go. Please let me go.

Your love is generous, gracious, full of promises, steady as the future goes. You have my children, hold my history, shaped me in this form.

Yet I am growth. I am learning. I am not who I was.

Tomorrows are for those who want to avoid the yesterdays. We see behind sunsets, know where we were, remember what we made and walked from. We grieve. We wipe our tears. We grieve all over again.

We seek sunrises. We have spent enough time mourning the losses we cannot retrieve, repair, rehash.

We are afraid. We are brave. We vacillate between the once-was and the what-ifs.


Give me peace, past-maker. Give me tomorrows, life-saver.


#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.

Be my Ear


Football Sunday, Monday and again, Thursday.

Fingers entwined I learn the line, the calls, the plays, the grime.

You revel in the stories of icy games and hard hits and blown knees and the simple broken skull, concussed into old age. I am privy to tales of brotherhood, friendships beginning with having someone’s back from just doing a job. I laugh as you relay the endless trash-talk mixed into celebrations on the turf and then lived again in the telling, years after the field went dark.

I did not know you in your jersey.

I did not know you in those pads.

I did not know your eyes on the target, that helmet scuffed with grass and dirt, the shoulder that did the work of two.

I did not know you then, that is as it should have been.

Beside me now, you share the plays, the mistakes, the stats to watch, the calls to hate.

Salt and pepper shakers, the remote, your beer-  become receivers and offensive lines and movements that don’t change over time.  Seconds after you grasp my arm and interpret the flag  the talking heads send the same into the airwaves. I turn to you, amazed again with the echo of your own words broadcasting from the television, bouncing into our already called space.

You have my ear and I trust what I hear. You’ve been somewhere I will never be and this,too, is as it should have been.

We were not ready for each other in those days. We were not meant to be, back then.

We are who we bring into this day, the person we became from those times when we played and bled; the person we are now, pulled out of the pile, a bit battered but knit together with the stories of the glories we lived.


Lean into me, tell me, again,  about when you were once there. 


#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.