Recent recriprocal reconnections.
Ha ha. Say THAT 5 times fast.
I can have a friend now. Really, no joke.
I’m not “IN” love with her anymore, I say.
“How do you know, Dee?”, they query. How do I know?
Let me tell you the story…
“IN” love, I’ve been.
None of that smirking from the peanut gallery whom assumes I’m an island…you know who you are, too!
In the 80’s. She rode her motorcycle in a purple dress. I spent insane amounts of time trying this way and that to convince her that she should be with me. Only me. Forever. Let your hands be like glue, I pleaded. She eventually complied on the very same night that I passed out in her shrine. Don’t bother to tell me that God is without humor. Laughing His ass off that night… Waited a teenaged eternity for that moment…
Jingly-jangly-what-nots hanging from every angle. She smelled nice. Like…uh…patchouli.
Dead things hung from her ears. Ha ha. A private joke. If she reads this ever, she’ll chuckle.
What is the word that you want to use that describes the most beautiful creature that you have ever seen? I was 18 then.
Young in every essence of the meaning of the word.
My parents had just moved away, leaving me to really fare among the users and takers. Little did I know that I’d become one with that kind. I didn’t learn much about integrity on the streets, you know.
The years, oh what an enemy they were. Plucked her to and from me. Not through any fault of hers, I imagine.
She was the epitome of perfect to me in those days. Of course, years passing impart a certain wisdom. Wisdom that my inexperienced eyes never could look upon back then. She, of course, was not perfect. But love, love, love and more damned love I felt. Ever tried to mix lemon juice and milk? What a ruddy, congealed, mess.
Like me, then.
Cheated. Lied. Hurt. Ran. Stayed. Left. Feared any other that might move in on my “territory.” Years, even eons later. A scared little kid pretending I knew what real love entailed…
…I still cannot claim that enigmatic knowledge.
But 21 years are gone.
After the 80’s, after the 90’s… into the 00’s. Whatever have I learned?
This;
That women deserve so much more than I gave back then. That fear is deceiptful. That putting your hands on a woman out of anger is heinous. That making love is an art form. That patience is a virtue. That trust is a key. That “in love” is colored by the colorer. That I’m worth something here. That integrity matters. That being alone is not a crime. That it’s ok to love your first love. And it’s ok to use that feeling as a litmus test for those to come.
But I’m not “IN” love with her anymore. How do I know this?
Because I want her to be happy with someone who is.
What a relief. How many lifetimes must it take to learn a lesson?
More than I wish to count, no doubt.
Something tells me we’ll meet up again. Next life, perhaps.
Maybe I’ll get it right by then…But I somehow doubt it.
Nothing ever gets THAT good.
