This morning, still dark, I noticed my orientation to Orion in the heavens. I heard once, I think it was feng shui, that true North is a thing a man should know. The North Star is a guidestar, a path, a way, a hope. For sailors trying to reach home, the stars were all they had on the dark and choppy waters or the deep black ocean night.
I recently added a red door as well; another feng shui thing about keeping out bad spirits or something. I like the ideas of placement and orientation. This morning I’m calculating my orientation relative to my two children. One is on a distant continent preparing to administer her healing hands as a near-nurse, she’ll graduate in three months. The other is sleeping in a sober house full of men who love hunting and guns and deer heads mounted on the wall. It’s good for him to have some dude time without intoxicants. That’s a habit that can plague a man for his entire life.
In some ways, I’m what’s known as a dry drunk. (Slightly sarcastic.) I have the characteristics of a drinking drinker without drinking. It also means I’m a bit conscious of my own orientation to booze. I can take it or leave it. My dad could not put it down once he got started. The nurse drinks. The sober boy does not. Never has. He liked other substances.
When the pharma industry finds ways to add more meds to our regimens… Well, that’s where he got into trouble. The two-a-days became more a days. The helpful med grew into a shroud of illusion. Everything was not okay, but it was okay that it wasn’t okay. Except, that’s from the perspective of the high. Watching from the sidelines I observed a young man struggling to finish college. Heck, that’s not uncommon. Fear of launch. Fear of failure.
My son’s fear might be, fear of having to show up to work for a week, and then another week, and then another one. In some fractured universe he did not ever have to get a job to help pay for gas, or fancy sneakers, or suits that he continually outgrew in his burst to 5′ 11. He’s a thin tall young man exploring beard growth for the first time. Even yesterday, his mind jumping from crypto, to artificial intelligence, to guns. He’s not with the “program” but he is staying within the limits of his current living arrangements.
In my own orientation I have been sailing alone now for three months, four if you count June when I told my girlfriend I was breaking up with her for a myriad of reasons. This morning, resetting my heading based on the belt of Orion, I came to a moment of peace. My daughter’s dog was beside me in the front yard. Too early to water and look for all the Filipés hopping around. I did see the spider, Pepe, he is still proudly hunting off the starboard side.
I’m sounding. I’m letting down weights and ropes to plumb the depth. What is my objective?
I’ll give a little snapshot of my current malaise. I watched Sunday Night Football last night. I think it was the Ravens against someone. I don’t really care about football. I do like the way the surround sound in my living room brings the crowd noise and collision/impact noise to life. I played a lot of football growing up. From peewee hero, to high school wonder, to football dropout, to sex and drugs and rock’n’roll. If you played ball, there’s a jolt you get watching a game, even one you don’t care about.
I don’t really want to be watching football on a Sunday night. I’d had a good day. I guess seeing my son bobbing up and down in the water was a bit painful. I remember a bit too closely how soul-altering depression can be. Warping ambitions. Curbing energy. Stopping creative ideas or forward motion. Last night, I realized I was not only bored but lonely too.
If I were really going to be telling the truth, I also tell you that a girl I had a crush on in first grade (no joke) just called me “sweet John” in her Facebook reply. So, I’ve got that going for me.
In my mind I am presenting a perfect picture. I mean, for a man of nearly sixty-two. (November). In my calculations and pursuit over the last month, I’ve really been asking myself, “What could she possibly gain from a relationship with me?”
I’m going to have to ask her, actually. But the perspective helps me define my offer. What am I seeking? Do I want a partner, a lover, a long-term support system that will pull me off of my current course? The answer is an obvious YES and a NO.
Let’s start with the NO.
No way she’s ready to have a man compromise her sixty-ish years of love and independence. Here’s what I told her.
And, for the moment, I believe that to be the god’s honest truth. Um…
Yeah, I’ve been down this road before. A woman I didn’t *pursue* but invited to coffee. We began doing some evenings at nice restaurants with wine and banter. She once texted me a response that was in this vein, “You remind me of my dad.” It was my grey hair. Well, today, that might be an angle. Not with my future running buddy. Someone else. The dinners progressed and I had to break it off. “I’m beginning to have feelings,” I admitted. We’re still friend on Facebook. From what I can tell she’s never been in a relationship, since I’ve known her. (But, what can you really tell from someone’s Facebook page?) When I ping her for coffee every other year or so, I ask, any significant relationship action? “Nothing worth talking about.” She’s still beautiful and untouched.
That’s the part I’m curious about. Someone who values touch in the same way I value Sunday Night Football. It’s okay. It brings back some vivid memories. And… Let’s do something else.
Okay, back to the reasons for no.
At this late stage of adulthood we’re not likely to change much. She’s in a different city. She’s a rancher. What do I know about ranching? She’s been independent since her daughter was born. I don’t know the story. She’s oriented her life around being a strong single mom in a sleepy city in a red state. That’s her life so far. Not unlike mine, in many ways. A single dad for fourteen years. But, not anything like hers, actually.
Let’s feel into the yes ideas.
A small indication of possibilities ahead. There’s no star map or orientation to move us toward each other. No force of nature other than my imagination.
I’ve been divorced since August 2010. In that time I have been diligently seeking a new *home.* Perhaps, in my current state I am experiencing my self-home. Yes. And it is good. Happy. Full. Lenny, my daughter’s doodle helps a bit, I’m noticing. And over the course of these nearly fifteen years, I have brushed smiles with her three separate times. Three.
That’s me. I keep threads of people I like attached to my heart. I jiggle them when I’m seeking a connection. In the case of this woman, I am fascinated to find and illuminate the connective tissue between my first-grade bravado and my current romantic messaging. I wouldn’t say I’ve been relentless with her. I would stay the little boy still wants to see what kissing her would feel like.
In fact, this woman is the reason I drink.
Well, let me clarify.
On the way to the second series of encounters, I purchased a bottle of magic tequila. I didn’t recall the last time I was in a liquor store, as I asked for a recommendation from the clerk. My journey with Casa Migos tequila started with her, with our second encounter. Still no kisses. Plenty of hugs. Plenty of smiles. Plenty of joy.
And fear.
I think, back in my mindreading mode, that she must be frightened of my advances. Well, except for the FACT that I have never pushed. I have opened communications again.
To be honest, I understand the potential for this “running buddy” thing to end much like my earlier “my father” experience. This is a different motion for me. I assume for her as well.
We don’t need other people to complete us. We are complete. There’s a blurry line between contentment and ambition. I am content. I am also ambitious. This case is no different. First step, engage. Second step, in the immortal words of 38 Special, “Hold on loosely, don’t let go…”
In all three previous liaisons, the complications of being single parents limited our run. This did not limit my wondering, however. I guess that’s what I’m doing here, wondering. She’s a wonder. She doesn’t need me. At the moment, she doesn’t want me either. Why would we want to add complications to our contentment? Why would the 100+ round trip joyride hold any allure?
“Mysteries of life,” I say to myself. “Indulge the first-grader in you. Celebrate the first-grader in her.”
The YES is “god only knows.”
There are plenty of NOs in the world. It is easier to cut and forget. But, that’s not how my heart and mind operate. I seek the high. I find the low. I do my best to articulate the journey between the poles. Even as we were not getting together the idea of her has brought the idea of joy, a hint of joy, into my life for close to fifty years. That’s nuts.
Well, it’s also poetry. “Compatibility and joyful banter. Always.”
“If you cling too tightly, you’re going to lose it…”
Sweet John wondering about a girl.
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