Sunday, November 29, 2009

I Got What I Wanted

Twenty minutes after I met X, a man I'd met from the Globe personals, I decided I wanted to sit across the table from this charming, gray-haired man who was quite like a five-year-old in his delight of his own stories and the way he wolfed down his Chinese food.

I was thrilled that he asked to see me again. And spent the next two years in the most foolish state for a woman was 56 when we met.

That first Thanksgiving, though, I almost left because he'd told me that his son remarked about his having met someone, asked if he was in love, or implied that he was in love, or implied that the feelings he had for this new person were strong, and he'd told him that he cared as much as he could. After he told me that I went upstairs and tore my photo off his office door, took it down from among the many, many cards and notes and photos he'd stuck up there. But I couldn't leave and replaced it a few days later.

He was/and most undoubtedly is/ a happy fellow, a man's man, a good conversationalist if the person is talking about something he's interested in. He's someone who will dance down the staircase, singing, who has beautiful stork legs, who enjoys morning coffee, the newspaper, delicious naps, all sports except when his team is loosing, potato chips and dips, liver pate. I've never met someone who was such a self-soother. You would think I'd have learned something, but I was hopeless, just lapping around, wanting attention. Wanting to be wanted. It isn't that I didn't enjoy myself with him, but I truly needed, oh, damn, needed to be important.

We were a parody of Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars. And could really have had fun if we were both able to play with those differences, but we couldn't. I wanted to talk them to death and he wanted to ignore them. Two bad strategies. But we managed for almost ten years. The last two were bad as I struggled, but....not a bad average.

I loved his sons, each unique, curious, interesting, smart. And the youngest would smile ever so slightly when I'd said something amusing, a fact that his father didn't notice, but I was encouraged, very encouraged and comforted, that this quiet kid had. His very quiet presence always meant a lot to me. 

I saw two of them recently, and the lovely wife of the oldest, and their absolutely precious baby with this tiny, smiling face, a little girl who totters nicely around, eager and enjoying. It was wonderful to have lunch with them.

And devastating.

The coyotes have eaten part of me in the last three years, since that bad breakup. 


  1. The coyotes have not eaten away your talent! I like the pictures very much!

  2. I agree with Mim on your talent. This is such a terrific run down on the life and death of a relationship. So painfully succinct, with all the gaps between visible in my imagination.