You let me shut up. At first our conversations were pressured. We each had so much to share. As I began telling stories of my escapades and escapes it became clear you were upset.
“What’s wrong?”
“All these other women.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve dated a lot of women. I’m just another number. What makes me different?”
“We’re in the present tense?”
“Funny. I feel like you’re just playing your games. Doing whatever it is you do.”
“What would be my goal? With this behavior, then?”
“Sex? I don’t know.”
“I have been divorced for 16 years.”
“Right.”
“I have made finding a long-term relationship part of my life. I want a partner. I can survive without one, thrive even, but I don’t want to be alone.”
“Still, I feel like I’m number seven or something.”
“I understand. And it’s hard to read love poems I wrote 30 years ago, because they are about another woman.”
“Kind of…”
“No. I doesn’t work like that. I am here. I am giving all of my available time to you. Only you. Not for sex. Not for fun. Because I am seeking a long-term partner. You are that partner. In this present moment, that’s the best we can do.”
“Oh.”
“Right, there’s no other way about it. In this very moment, even with all of our flaws and mistakes, our arguments that seem loopy and repetitive… All of that… It’s worth it. It’s not easy. We may want to give up from time to time.”
“Yes.”
“But when we know it’s time to give up, we will be in agreement. Today, it’s you breaking up with me over and over again. Or saying some stupid thing in a text message. ‘Nice knowing you. I hope we can still be friends, bullshit.’ That’s end of times declarations. I have responded in kind. I am sorry about that. I should never agree with you.”
“You’re angry.”
“I am struggling, but not with anger.”
I am tired of wrapping myself in knots to secure a loving partner. I chose yet another unavailable woman. The most amazing unavailable woman, but unavailable nonetheless.
My words fail here.
I guess it is best summed up by a conversation I had with one of my mentors today. I was describing some of the most recent WFT moments. “Yeah, but you’ve never seen her, how amazing she is.”
Fuck.
Just what I didn’t want to admit. It’s about the smile and body of this amazing woman. And in so many ways, I’m just wanting to get skin-to-skin.
“Maybe it’s just about the sex, for you?”
No. But sex is an important part of a relationship.
Words I use feel hollow. Sentences attempting to redeem myself from my dastardly failure at wooing a married woman. It sounds worse than it is, but it still sucks.
Yeah, maybe when you’re all done with your divorce. (In my experience, this means several years.) Maybe then… No. Pipe dream.
No more words. No more promises. No more enticements. Hot tubs. Beds. Kisses. No more time with the most beautiful girl in the world.
Wait a minute. [Maybe this is a breakthrough.] The woman I am with, my partner, is always the most beautiful girl in the world. I fall hard and easily into a groove with a woman. Time after time, I have missed some fatal sign. This time, I was fully aware. I have no excuse.
Did I tell you how beautiful she is?
That’s a recipe for disaster. Not a long-term partnership.
Stop with the poetry. Just stop. Go to sleep. It’s late. The cold front is whipping up the dirt, dust, and breaking limbs outside. A forty-degree temperature drop. Still not winter, at 40 in the morning, but not summer like it was this afternoon, March 15, at 95 degrees.
A cooling-off period is necessary for recovery. Rest. Like my shoulder, I’m trying to stretch and yoga-therapy into a less painful recovery period. Why do I need to press forward with this lovely, thin, dark, creative woman?
Maybe try again when she’s been divorced for a few years. Dating ain’t what it’s cracked up to be. Even for a beautiful athletic woman. Her road ahead will be a climb. I hope that my transgression didn’t set her back. Instead, as she indicated in a text just today.
In time… Yes…
Yes, say goodnight and go.
back to the glitching index
