Sweet little porcupine

Alt #6 met someone on Sunday. Actually, I'm meeting a lot of people lately. But this one wanted to meet again that he actually scheduled the second meeting, which was last night.

He said he wanted to get to know me. And so he did. Well, he got to know just the things that I thought were important for him to know.

I learned about him too, of course. And I realized that there's no way he could understand me. He might imagine that he does, but he had a fairy tale life and one tragedy. How could he understand a life comprised of a string of tragedies?

To his credit, he showed an honest respect for my experiences and how those shaped me. And he understood why I have my "rules" of engagement. Or disengagement as the case may be.

At some point in the conversation, he called me "a sweet little porcupine." And I remembered something I wrote a long time ago, when I was very new to SL. Then I realized that I've become the sculpture that Starax Statosky had built. The woman in the armor.

But there's more. In another post around the same time, I wrote, "when we open up and realize that it isn't safe, we quickly put on an armor. And, more often than not, the armor has long poisonous spikes."

I suppose the spikes multiplied through those years. And I've morphed into a porcupine.

Not a good thing, I know. And maybe someday I'll work on peeling off that spiked armor, but not likely anytime soon. Like a porcupine, my defensive spikes have become part of me.

On second thought, maybe he really understood me anyway. After all, he chose the perfect metaphor.