Brick Pollitt

Whenever my heart gets broken I seek comfort in the usual suspects- music that reminds me of him, reliving memories that made me happy, scrutinizing shared words and gestures...watching Cat on a Hot Tim Roof on loop.

I loved it long before it was my coping tool. The performances, the colors, the actors..the entire aesthetic is absolute perfection to me. But I watch it now because through Maggie that Cat I get to talk to my Brick. The Brick that, unsurprisingly, injured me this time. ( sadly there have been a few now)

You know the type... they start out brilliantly from the beginning of life. The strong, charming, care free boys. Excelling in most things, especially anything physical, they draw admirers instantly and bask in the love of girls of all shapes and sizes. They never try to fit in or follow trends because they set them. Their chiseled bodies make any outfit look perfect even if it’d seen better days. They wake up, brush their teeth, fuss with their hair for 30 seconds and run out the door chasing another thing that they desire that day.

Professional athletes or surgeons or rock stars... always the ones to set the mood in the room, always the ones that leave and are not the ones left behind. They glide through life with such ease... they can usually fix cars and boats and doors and anything else that’s broken without ever having been taught how to do those things. They thrive outdoors and chase adrenalin in all its forms- and so you follow them on hikes and bike rides and fishing trips and skiing because you are addicted to them and because you’ll get another rush of desire when you see how they look at you when you excel at the thing they love... what a fucking stupid circle that is.

Being with them is exciting (even if you thought you lost all ability to be entertained)- great conversations, constant laughter and mind blowing sex because there are no rules between you two. Seemingly, life is so easy for them- they figured it out. While YOU are consumed by thoughts and inconsistencies, they tell you life is simple. When you’re happy you stay. When you're not... you leave. And so they chase happiness ... new country, new sport, new car... new girl. Over and over because there has never been and never will be a person to tell them “no.” Not until they get old and lose their charm but by then their long suffering girlfriend would have become the long suffering wife- content with ignoring the painful moments for the price of being “Mrs X.”

Being with them is like a drug. You get addicted to the idea that maybe.. just maybe.. two alphas can be together. Because you grew up with movies and books that made it seem possible. Because you finally feel like you don’t have to be the strong one all the time. Because someone stronger is there to catch you. And that feeling is what I end up chasing. Curling up against a big muscular chest at night and feeling safe. Being tossed in the air like a feather and caught in giant hands... knowing that anywhere we go doesn’t require a plan because it will be perfect anyway. Insidiously the desire for more of this grows and it’s too late before you realize your heart has joined the fan club of the Bricks. And worst of all.. now it has given you ideas of the future. It wants more. It wants a lifetime of this. But that lifetime usually belongs to the girl next door they already know. Because your alpha doesn’t want an equal. They want “comfort” and “safety” and “easy.” And hard as I may try... easy has never been a word to define me. And even when I’ve tried in the past (mistakenly) to change and bend with the boy it’s never enough. Because like a wolf they know your core and any desire for you is trumped by the need to continue to do whatever they want whenever they want it.

Perhaps that’s too simplistic. Perhaps I’m missing the necessary details to truly define this... to understand this. And when I ache I turn to the film. Where a gorgeous strong girl fights for her handsome broken husband and says the words I long to say. To watch her win her love back scratches my itch. I pick at that wound daily.. I’m sick of it, frankly. I wish I could stop feeling like shit.  But I cannot help doing it again the next day. Because every night it does scar a little bit. And with time it heals... though much slower than it should. And in the end I still have hope.. that one day, my Brick is going to choose me.