Seasoned

I believe that I love happily ever after. I’ve never done it but my guess is that anything with the word ‘Happy’ in it has to bring some benefit to the table.

I’ve had it offered to me a number of times and just like the mysterious Curtains 1-3, you never know what’s really behind them until you choose one.

Just yesterday morning, I had been thinking a lot about this very complicated relationship. Pros, cons, nostalgia of this soul being my first real kiss – the inexperienced, sloppy and hours long kind. The time we used to spend at ages 12 and 13 in elevators (stop button with our fingerprints all over it) making out. Or the movie theatre. Or literally, a roll in the hay, as we had access to a barn.

But are we more than just that primal underlying attraction as adults? It seems sometimes that the only area of our life we wouldn’t even think about complaining about would be the path of the barn. At times it seems that anything else is a war cry. Words about parenting, money, the messy house, who is using how many burners on the stove at a given time - Somehow leaves one person’s mouth and cocoons then completes a metamorphosis into a totally different creature before ducking into the ear of the now offended one.

Yes, people go through this. People who had married since before Abe Lincoln studied by a candle flame. BUT….what shade of red flag do you have when it happens intensely and frequently within a relationship that is merely a year and a half old?

Jumping into something was so very easy. Even if I had put any thought into moving in with my mate as quickly as I did, my body would have already packed and driven everything here without my cerebral help. It was magnetic and felt absolute.

Pondering when there are problems is another story. It’s not quite as easy to think straight about breaking the wine bottle on the bow of Ship I Guess It’s Better We Found Out Now. Because when do you really ever know? Does the flashing Game Over sign on your deathbed finally reveal the ‘right’ choice? How much do you have to try? And then some folks will say you shouldn’t HAVE to try so hard if it’s ‘right’.

Ah. BUT. Most of the wonderful wise elders in our society will open their creaky closets and share their secrets with us if we just ask. That it really WASN’T all that easy, although you’d never realize it from the outside. That this seemingly adorable old couple never even had an argument about margarine vs. butter. We’ve found out through opening up to others that even THOSE couples had their Dark Night of the Couples Soul. They hung in there through commitment, got through it and are honest enough to say that it sucked but it passes and they are glad they worked through it.

If you otherwise are into your mate and aren’t merely out to trade in for a newer used model then you’re in luck. You already know their rusted crannies and they know yours. You already realize that even if you do think their farts are rosey, they do come with thorns. No big surprises there. What is needed then seems to be new ways of learning, perceiving and a commitment to try to be mindful of the other person instead of being trapped in what is making YOU and ONLY YOU uncomfortable or hurt. Otherwise, you might throw away that Other Person’s Treasure that really you could have happily been with. There’s always a new person out there to scale for new land mines with exploding baggage. Sometimes people just give up too soon.

On the flipside, if you absolutely see nothing about your relationship that works for you or you feel icicles gleaming on your special parts when your partner tries to be affectionate to you, then well, maybe it is time for Greener Land Mines.

I thought about our own relationship and our issues that we’ve allowed to inflate. I remember when we laid eyes on each other, how I felt after our first meeting after 25 years, I still remember the drive to his house for the first time knowing it was going to change my life (and now I live here too). I remember that first night of sleeping next to each other – his arm around me, never leaving me for an instant all night.

Those are the things that soften the edges of hurt.

I thought about how everything was flavored, sizzling, crazy energy, exhilarating….how we were like a savory sautéed dish! And how we allowed ourselves to eventually morph into boiled cabbage.

I don’t want boiled cabbage. Not on my stove ever and definitely not metaphorically.

It’s easy to get bogged down and find nothing but unsalted, boiled cabbage. The elders are correct then in my opinion. It is more work to create a tantalizing, gorgeous and enjoyable dish.

My Favorite Day

Today is indeed the day, the anniversary of my heart skinny dipping into the raw and the passionate. Not that it never happened before or after. But this one was different.

I was his sales rep for a music distribution company. It was HOLY FARKING SHIT at first sight. I recall meeting so many buyers that week and running to a pay phone (yes, pay phone in NYC - it was 1996 when pay phones were an evil necessity still) to call my friend (who is now called Auntie Mame) and tell her that I just met this guy, this incredible guy who reminded me of Antonio Banderas. Only way less shady. And without the slitted eye effect.

We had such a history. So much drama and passion. We both lived with other people. We lived a two hour train ride apart. He showed up in my town one afternoon while my fiancee and I were walking back from the store with a box of hot chocolate to make after putting up our Christmas tree. His showing up in basically nowheresville on a cold day while by himself, should have been like a bat to my fiancee's knees. A small clue. Barely forming coherent setences, I invited him in and offered him hot chocolate. He made up a very good lie as to why he was in town. Twenty minutes later I escorted him to the door hissing at him to never ever show up like that again. The next day I woke up in love with him all over again for showing up exactly the way that he did.

He was my insane lover.

More drama. An eventual break up with both men. And a marriage to Cavey. Years after I sent Cavey away in a wheelbarrow full of empties, I found my man again. I played my hand patiently and persistently...I knew what I wanted. I'm a Scorpio. When I know exactly what I want, I have been fortunate enough to get it. I had him again, legitimately, both of us available and ready for our real and adult relationship without hiding behind other people.
A series of confusing cyclones hit and we broke up - for reasons that I just couldn't list publicly - but it wasn't for lack of love. We reunited a year later and the exact same big issue crashed our party. Only this time, I lost my mind, hit the Eject button and never spoke to him after. I refused his emails, phone calls and mentally bore my spade into the ground, burying everything associated with him. There was a lot of pain on both ends. I thought I could throw him away and never look back. Hindsight sucks. How arrogant I was .... being used to just choosing the next person to try on and toss in the used bin once getting bored. I should have known that pay day was coming. Signed, sealed, delivered with Husband #2.

These days I am in love with the idea of that perfect fit. Who'd be mad at that?

While I wonder how much of my Lobster I have romanticized, I also am trying to remember those things that really irked me about him. Those things fade off though, like child birth and then people get pregnant again. What remains is the substance. And the miles of regret. I don't think I can ever be in this person's life again. I can't see how he'd trust me or know that I've been kicked in the jimmies of the soul, made promises to myself and God and have changed.


I called his voicemail todayand heard his accent. I'm one peering window shy of Stalker. He works for the same place he did 8 years ago, as do I. As I listen to his voice, I wonder to myself what is inside those tones? Is there a wife who hears his sensual pronounciations? Is there a child perhaps who is being familiarized with his own traditions? There is a whole world inside his voice that I am no longer privledged to know of.

Really though, the purpose of this musing, is to remember how deep you can feel for another person. And if you feel it and have it in your grasp, without wilting the other person, hang onto it.
I happen to work with one of my exes. We dated for a couple of years, broke up, I got married again, was released from my wifely assignment, and here he is again. Not wavering, not scared, not Unsure. He has changed a little, or so his credits say.

He cornered me in a break room at work once, getting inches away from my face. He told me he would give all up material possessions just to be with me. Or something to that effect. Whatever he said, it was dangerous since the PC flags were going up in flames all over the place. HR would be arriving shortly with hoses and pink slips. We stepped apart as someone walked into the room.
I had not given myself to this person as I didn't even know myself what I was really looking for. Was I to go for it and give it a try, sending the guards home and getting cozy in this familiarity?
My answer is no. It's not that this sort of thing wouldn't be nice with someone, but my gut said it wasn't time for any of that. Or is that because its not the right person? I've made some heinous calls in the past so I wouldn't let anyone take MY two cents to their bookie.

On that note, I am finally going to shut off Tom and Jerry in the other room. I've heard Tom do his infamous window on neck scream about 12 times already. Tom was, incidentally, my cartoon crush as a child. Anyone else have those? I thought Jerry needed to be link flicked off the planet so that my poor Tom could stop getting suckered. I digress. Time to fall asleep, enjoying the memory of the last part of that night so long ago. Rage Against the Machine was on the radio, Bulls on Parade, as we fell into my hotel room, clothes flying, tripping backwards onto the bed. He said to me, "Let's Play a Game", which meant we could say I love you and it was okay. We didn't have to adhere to the timelines of a normal I Love You. This is where the needle skips the record for me and I won't be stopping it