This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

fickle, 'fi-k&l, adj.

Etymology: Middle English fikel deceitful, inconstant, from Old English ficol deceitful; akin to Old English befician to deceive, and probably to Old English fAh hostile -- more at FOE
: marked by lack of steadfastness, constancy, or stability : given to erratic changeableness
synonym see INCONSTANT

One of the longest running traditions among the women of my mother's small family is singing in the kitchen when doing the dishes after a large family meal. My mother, her 2 sisters, and each one of the sisters' daughters would gather, doing her respective work (washing, drying, stacking, putting away), while singing her part in a handful of oldies or folk songs. The most prominent song we sang went like this, in 3 parts:

And the door, is still open, to my heart.

Foolish little girl, fickle little girl,
You didn't want him when he wanted you.
He's found another love, the one he's dreaming of,
and there not a single thing that you can do.

But I love him.
No you don't, that's just your foolish pride.
I still love him.
Tomorrow is his wedding day and you'll be smart and stay away.

Foolish little girl, fickle little girl,
You didn't want him when he wanted you.

I've been called fickle my whole life. I can understand it to some extent. I'm adventurous, exploratory and insatiable with my love for the world at large. Shiny things distract me. I'm blond, an Aquarius. I can see how people might mistake all that for infidelity.

My ex-partner, in the preeminent primary relationship in my past, would tell me that fickleness was one of my biggest flaws; that it was a thing that caused me my hardships and him his headaches.

I'm thinking about the term fickle today, because I am digging into the world of sluttdom, dating and polyamory. Who, but ethical sluts, could more easily be slapped with, what I consider to be, a derogatory term of disloyalty?

(Amnesiacs I s'pose.)

Thing is, I am anything but fickle.

Here's what I am: fiercely loyal, even more fiercely independent, curious, salacious, quick, given to romantic fits, sometimes oversexed, sometimes undersexed, confident, smart, incredibly adaptable, and thirsting for the elemental bounty of life. (Not to mention a good lay!)

Fickle. Do men ever get called this? Doubtful. Just as slutty men often get admired for being charismatic and successful, I suspect that fickle men get cheered for being selective or "a good catch".

Anyway, digging into sluttery. I have been blessed with a handful of sexy and incredible people, and perhaps, the rewards of hard work in the last few months (or it's cosmic timing) and I'm finding myself loving it so much that I want more. I know I've only begun to dip into this amazing pool of sex positive, playful populous and (in my quiet moments) I want to continue down this path with my present effervescence. I am poorly equipped with the time to explore in the zealous way I'd like to, but will do my best to make do.

Looks like I'm simply processing here. Don't know that I have a point to make beyond my suspicion about, and rejection of, the word fickle. I may also be reassuring myself; saying that, when my lustful frenzies calm and I'm holding onto a gem of a relationship and friendship and person, it doesn't mean I care any less for him or her. It means the opposite in fact! When the cyclone of lust that sometimes whips me around calms, I can actually think and develop feelings for a fallible and real human; rather than basic visceral desires for someone who tickles me pink.

I guess also I might add that I think slut potlucks may be a thing of the future in my new apartment. Think of it as netfuckworking with dinner and drinks...guess I'll have to get more chairs.


anna pulley said...

OMG - slut potlucks?! I have a delightful spinach dip recipe from Oprah magazine...just sayin'

aka Shasta said...

that'd be good for a 'finger food only' or 'fingers only' slutluck. or should we call it a potslut?

anna pulley said...

i'm leaning towards potslut...though both will probably cause raised eyebrows and require further explanation. such is life for the avid pun-dit.

David said...

Slut potlucks, I love it! And screw the chairs ... just have them right in the bedroom and save us all some time. I love Shana's brain!

aka Shasta said...

Yes, well, luckily I live in a studio where the bedroom is never more than 24 inches away.