Oddly enough for someone that doesn’t really cuss, I’ve been asking myself one question for the past few weeks, “Jessica, what the f— are you doing?”, sometimes extended by, “Really, What Are you doing?!”

The answer is pretty simple:  I am playing with fire, and I know it.

After certain events, perhaps not so recent, my figurative heart has morphed into an object that would fit in perfectly between a set of brass knuckles or an RPG.  Add to that a little shrapnel, barbwire, steel plating, and a temperature of somewhere around -1,000 °C and you now have an accurate idea of how willing I am to be vulnerable.  Basically, my heart says, “Don’t play with me, and I pity the fool who tries”, or something pretty close to that.  I should apply the “don’t play” part to my actions but have possibly done the complete opposite.  Instead, I warily strike a match just to see how high the flame will go.  I’m allowing this emotional pyromania to happen simply because this box already comes with a bright red warning label reading, “YOU WILL GET BURNED.  IT WILL HURT.  YOU KNOW THIS.  DON’T FORGET THE WATER.”  Ouch.

How did I get this warning, this convenient disclaimer?  I already played with these matches once.  It hurt then too and earned the brutal knowledge of exactly who this person is, that he will disappoint me, and he won’t care when he does.  Instead, he’ll respond with, “J, commme on.”

If every time you meet a guy there was already a label stating the issues to expect, “he’s flirtatious”, “he’s dishonest”, “he’s flaky”, would you want to read it?  I naively believe in and look for the best in people even when I know better.  A “disclaimer” doesn’t change that, but it does avoid disappointment, tears, and the feeling that you invested in a person that never intended on returning the effort.  Already knowing the consequences doesn’t classify pursuing attention from this person as a smart move, but it does make it an informed one.  That might not be much solace in the grand scheme of things, but definitely better than nothing.

If I mention the situation surrounding my box of matches, it is met with head shakes and “Oh, Jessica…” or “not a good idea, my fren”.  Another example of this response happened when a buddy called to catch up.  She says, “Jessica, can I ask you something?  You probably won’t like the question, though.”

I sigh.  “Alright, man.  Go ahead.”

“You do know this will probably turn out badly.  Right?”

I sigh again.  “All I know is what I can expect from past experience.  If I’m surprised…well, that probably wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Yeah, man.  I know.  I don’t want that either.”

New question:  Does fire always burn?

Past experience says, “Uh, yeah, it does.”