Is it foolish to look up the weather report – I mean for where You are? I know what my weather is here. Cloudy. Rain pattering down on the leaves. The dogs didn’t stir all night we had such a full and active day yesterday. We all slept straight through until morning. I guess I overslept, without even doing my usual full morning routine, didn’t leash them up until 7:41a.m. Exhausted, I rolled out when I wanted to stay in bed with You. Spooning up behind You, making love with You in first tender, sleepy and rain-soaked quiet that would lead to eventual intense, fevered passion. I let the images slip away. Is it even real if You are only in my head? The messages last night I sent out to the Universe, I hoped Your dream catcher would sort and hand to you.
“I Love You.
“I want always good things for You.”
“Can You feel my caress of Your cheek? The stroke of Your hair? Kiss on Your forehead?”
All the way down Your body I verbally sent out my good night kisses with the belief I’d see You in Your dreams. Hope.
Then, today as always as the comfort of sleep fades, a restless agitation. How can I connect with You? You haven’t viewed the video I sent in July. You didn’t go to the post office to pick up that book. You’re done with me and I can’t figure out how We were for five months so intensely close, so in Love, so Timeless. Was I still grieving my divorce and denying it, preferring to be caught up in You? Was it easier for you to cut me out completely because of my rash emotional state? I sensed You were Hmph, nena arms crossed, locked away with your teddy bear and toys in your room. I sent back Your small gifts like the plate that says Friends work through through thick and thin since you have abandoned ship, deeply wounding and offending you. I returned your gratitude scribbled on the back of your airport send-off bar tab for all the marvelous adventures around town, my feeding you home cooked dinners, our passionate love, and the romantic spa weekend we created here at my house because you said you’d wait for me! Where are you? Maybe I ought to have kept those shoes and underwear you left behind. Only the blood stain trace of your vagina in it’s perfect, sacred and beautiful full contours, remains from our first days when either we got carried away or it was your period, we never figured it out. All I know is I never wanted to wash any of my sheets after that weekend and am grateful I have at least this one kiss of your lips embossed not ironically on the comforter.
When I look up on my phone Your weather, the Sunrise, the Moon phase – am I just being a despondent idiot who can’t accept His fate? I spoke to you angrily over something We were not going to agree about, not at least in any immediate moment and as usual from what I had experienced Your impatience needed to rule. The world would need to stop until We sorted it all out and agreed – which would really be Me acceding to Your need. Again. You loved talking with Me because I listened and understood and whether or not You accepted the reality, I was merely letting You be heard and have Your points because I sensed your fragility, I didn’t want to fight, I enjoyed Your demanding ways and after being an asshole with my ex, I wanted and enjoyed You having your way. When I told You You are demanding and that is ok you didn’t believe me You only felt I was intentionally hurting you, taking things from our time together and rubbing them in Your face which I know You know in Your Heart I wasn’t. Who doesn’t draw from moments to illustrate points in defense of an argument or to help the Other see Your point of view? That is what lacked between Us. An emotional cool-down with a time to see the Other. Misunderstanding everywhere. You simply were not going to permit any cool-down. You refused to allow conflict to linger. You, astonishingly, added to Your ultimatum stating flatly I cannot receive You like this. You turned up the heat. My flight was in a few days. We needed to agree over the phone. I wasn’t smart enough to say Ah, I am about to meet her parents in their home!? Of course that is it. Elementary, Dear Watson! Because I am a typical man and and idiot – synonyms – all rolled into one ball of tangled ego yarn.
You clearly were not going to respect my boundaries, acknowledge that you had cornered me whilst I was sick or cede any my point of view or my need. You simply had to come first. Simple. No matter the cost. Otherwise you would not have out of the blue presented an ultimatum in the first place. Twenty-four hours later when I said You are right, Your reply was to find something else, yet again, in the way I spoke to You as a reason. First it was adjectives – sorry I didn’t know that beautiful, smart, strong are ok but if I call you cowardly that is emotional violence. Then it was ‘categories’ are unaccetable, whatever that means. Then you say I know myself. Once hurt I cannot. Cannot what? How about don’t want? Just stop lacking courage (i.e. being a coward) and say that. You already for several days were compiling your pros and cons list. The need ‘just for fun’ for me to take the Myers Briggs was more to start gauging in Your fear-laden mind how well we’d be able to resolve conflict. That’s all You focused on from our last trip, how we resolved our conflicts elegantly. Why so focused on this dynamic? Why not be able to tell me I don’t want to spend energy in these kind of dialogues, I am too fatigued and taken by divorce? No, instead you had to let me know it was my fault, that This is not what I wanted for Us with no ideas or articulation of what you did want. Brilliant. I guess married to a litigator for twenty years, you your self a litigator before you moved into advocacy – the combination was impressive. Emotional leeriness of men, sensitivity to violence as an advocate and in the mind of an all-or-nothing litigator. The Perfect Storm. I was the grasshopper frisking about the Summer green while you, the Ant, were storing up for Your winter of discontent. So, what?
What do you do these days? Do you wake with ease? With Joy? Immediately feed the dog and get to living, working, taking the children to where they go? Have you finalized your divorce and celebrate? Do you wake at the side of someone new or alone? A different person each morning? Are buried under a hovel of Zoloft and blankets, depressed and sunken? Are you relieved from your ‘traumas’ of the past that my emotional closeness to my ex seemed to have conjured so powerfully even as I encouraged you to look at working on an amicable relationship with yours. Also, I never minded the quality time you spent with your other male friend, constantly on getaways and long walks on the beach with him, dog sharing and whatever other sharing you needed for him to support You. Always playing that slight femme fatale, the wounded bird in a gilded cage. Barbara Stanwyck without the murderous plot on your husband. Me, Fred MacMurray without ne’er the success. I never begrudged or felt threatened by your emotional bonds. Your next Papi. Life of P(ap)i. But, the Truth: You and I were – are – the real deal. Maybe you didn’t, as I say repeatedly, trust your own self. After all, You refuse to view You as once herself a ‘third party’ you were, so what?
So what? What does any of this matter? Are you ever going to read these words? We have no friends in common. You are insulated on Your island geographic and emotional, psychological so unlike the character Pi who works within his own Faith, Hope and Courage to cooperate with Richard Parker, You want all the boat, raft and Ocean for You. Maybe I ought write Your Sister. Maybe I need to write Your Dad. Does anyway know how much I Love You. Does anyone know You Love Me? Will anyone stand up for Me? For We??
Won’t you ever come to realize the Island will always swallow You up in comfort? My risk, as I stop in the dog park to have a talk with Isolde of the White Hands over our dogs, training and meaningless morning chat, is will I never be able to break the spell of the love potion and my march to Death if I cannot possess Isolde the Fair?
I thought you were both but maybe that is still the potion talking, powerful and yet to wear off.
The church bells chime 9 times. I lose the thread with the train rushing past and the noise of We in my head.
And I Love You & Me. We. &iempre.