Paying Tribute to Someone Special

Mar. 20, 2016

Oh, my goodness!  "Gag a maggot", (which must surely come from high school days -- MY high school days, when I apparently let down my standards to use current crude vernacular), I had no idea my "retard" mode was so drawn out.

I'm writing this on a page of notes begun December 6, 2015.  I've postponed (Heaven only knew how long/more than enough time to prepare the proverbial lightning bolt) writing about a very special person in my life.  

I've finally faced one of many icky truths about myself and that is that I hold onto a fragment of "butt hurt" (umbrage, taking offense, getting defensive and other such lovely emotions)  with regards to his disposal of me as "irrelevant" and "insulting".  He maintained considerable dignity and decency in such disposal and I'm aware he was facing perhaps the second worst time of his life and any mature individual would forgive him.  

I had no problem at all forgiving him, and not because I claim maturity.  In fact, immaturity is most likely at fault, because I have been hesitating whilst knowing I have a degree of dual mindedness going on and I truly want this to be a portrayal of appreciation for him.  I had so hoped to be better at applying my learning to myself.  Alas!

Everyone deserves a name, even while deserving anonymity, especially when there's always the possibility of being entangled in a tome (minus the scholarly aspect of a tome).  I've come to call him Lordly Sweet Pickle.  That would translate to Lordly or S.P. or Lordly S.P., for short.  The pickle has nothing whatsoever to do with anything turning sour, as I simply don't see it that way at all, but rather -- sweet -- is something that will be regaled shortly.

I named him because I likely will end up talking as though I am speaking (or writing) to him at some point.  It just feels natural to me.

If my readers will take some responsibility, however, I'm guessing you've never thought of the burden you are as silent lurkers, to a writer convinced you could write a brief comment, if you were so inspired.  For my part, I'll confess to my own clear understanding of why I have received no writing awards.

Perhaps there would be wisdom in beginning at the beginning, although I don't know about you.  I always find it admittedly difficult to know just where the beginning really is.  Most of us would, at least initially, agree that this could well be considered the beginning.

One day, considerably before there was any coolness in the air around the Sonora Desert where I've lived way too much of my adult life (and by the way, it is quite exceptionally dry in the desert, just in case you were snoozin' through the geography periods), there came a "furr in er" to my Facebook page.  He claimed to be a man living in the wetlands, across the pond, in the one place in the world I had often remarked I'd like to go should I ever again have a chance to get up in the air and go somewhere.

I'm inherently suspicious when someone I don't know seeks my friendship online -- putting a former husband through Law School and having been in and out of Real Estate enough to have taken the Real Estate exam more than once -- it sometimes feels like "due diligence" is seeking part ownership in the affairs of moiself (my International, specifically French self).

And, so, in the process of the journeyman approach to due diligence, came more alarm.  By that time, I'd been to his page and seen some exceptionally appealing pictures -- which brought -- even more alarm.  

I wouldn't know about the rest of you, but I have way too narrow a circle of women friends these days to find much comfort.  I would ordinarily call a hen party of some sort and casually bring up the most recent thing I'd found strange about myself, namely that it would seem I'd gone way high in testosterone because I was more like a man supposedly reacts to women than I ever remembered being female in responding to the outward appearance of a male specimen.   Try and guess at the gist of that.  It's really tough for me, even now, to admit to.   

The few women I generally talk with over the phone these days want nothing to do with men and if they respond to my still being interested, it is to say something along the lines of:  "don't you think you can take care of yourself"?  "Duh!"

The main problem, though, was -- well, the main problem was -- what wasn't.  Without going into it, it should have made me take a long voyage to the Antarctic forgetting all about technology, especially social media.

I'm happy to claim, however, considerable belief in the unseen, which I bet you gathered in my Master Mind references, and mainly; truth be told, though I was claiming to be switching to a man, I at least made it to being a cat -- with their endless curiosity, I simply had to check it out.

And, so began the best experience of 2015---for me.  In fact, the best experience for a very long time, I'm pretty sure.  Adventure!

There's  a lot to be said for personality. This particular experience caused me to think back to the times when I've read about people in the past who became acquainted through letters, while separated by continents, in some cases.  Many was the time when I wished we'd simply pick up the phone, at least, and chatter away.  Never did I suggest it, and never did he.

Had we done so and had he had one of those male voices that turn me to butter (I'm pretty sure he does), I'm thoroughly convinced I would have vaporized on the spot.  

With a face that I concede to be the most beautiful male face I've ever enjoyed, terrific timing with a sensational twist of humor, delightful personality, AND divine voice, it would simply require my complete and utter obliteration.  That, or millennia of self-improvement.   

Ah, personality.  As I've reflected back, well, more accurately, read our chats back, I realized the part that was played by the -- I think it's called, thumb-nail pic that distinguishes the "other's" next words.  In this case (maybe always) it was the profile pic he was using at the time -- a picture for all intents and purposes to my periphery was half massively happy smile and half aviator sunglasses with their ability to make you question what of the world the wearer sees that you don't by looking at him/her.  The more I saw that popping up, the more vibration I was feeling as we conversed.  It made him seem very lively.

I came at him full on.  I'm the one who opened the chat and I asked boldly outright how it was he was asking me, a total stranger, to be his only friend.

His charm and friendliness was, at the outset, completely disarming.  And, so it began.  I countered with yet another powerful shot, a stink bomb that put him off for six days.

Once back on the horse, (so to speak) I found myself, indeed, flummoxed to find a self description I might expect to find on a dating sight.  That certainly gave pause.  

One might say the dual mindedness began here.  AND, one might also say, I felt briefly knocked off balance, knocked off my feet.  I had to look that up as it didn't sound quite right to me and found a song I've never heard with a line that feels surprisingly right:  You Knock Me Off My Feet by the Dum Dums.  Here's the line:  You made me feel more human Suddenly I feel free . . . You knock me off my feet, yeah.

Oh, oh, this is getting scaw eeee!  It has been too long.  Am I going to embarrass myself falling in love with someone I'm not even sure really exists?  OK -- just embarrass myself, period, falling in love like a kid?

I'm going to quote myself directly out of our chat here, and those of you who've read me before know I try to share this with you often enough to keep you duly warned:

Before I forget -- do you see yourself as having a good sense of humor? Your smile would say yes. I'm just not sure you are aware I say a lot with "tongue in cheek". I feel like I finally gained a sense of humor twenty years or so ago, now. Not everyone shares what I consider that to be, though. (Lots of giggling to myself to vary the oxygen intake level.)

I'm likely going to disappoint some of you reading this, but this is not a reveal of how one couple (or one of a couple) fell in love, but rather an expose of what an incredibly good thing this (to my mind, somewhat strange) experience has become as I have reflected upon it over it over some time.

I will pull back the curtain at about four days in to when he asked what I consider to be a very powerful question:  won't you like to be with a partner?

I believe that to be the crux of the matter.  No!  That's not very clear.  What I know to be the case I'd like to address is that the state of our relationships is one of the top three concerns for most of us as humans.

And, I also know that I am not alone to find upon reflection, my behaviors, indeed my thinking, close to opposite from my desires.  From birth, we are socialized until we reach an age and a time in our lives, when we are socializing ourselves and many of us lose track in there; and what we've lost track of is who we really are.

One author, whom I consider a great friend for this one contribution alone, says many of us are living in a box, -- and don't even know it.

I knew immediately I related, for I am just in the process of coming out of that box.  Coming out felt in some ways, like I imagine it would feel to remove the wrappings of a shroud.  That musty, stultifying feeling dropping away is at once both satisfying and freeing AND terrifying, knowing that what is about to be exposed to untold seers does not begin to appear fresh and new and adorable as when the covering went on.  

If you are sensing how the flip side could feel to me, and to you, should you give it a try, trust along with me that it will be worth it.

So, we were going along, having a lot of fun, or so at least it seemed to me.  And, then it seemed to turn way too serious, each of us in our own remolded directions.

Neither of us held enough trust in the other.  He was convinced I wouldn’t understand if he answered what I considered to be very appropriate questions.  I wearied of feeling rejected for not behaving as was expected in some handbook I wasn’t privy to.  I don’t know how he ended up feeling beyond what I reported at the start.  For myself, the experience had been too gladsome to end on a negative note. 

Oh, wait.  I told you I would tell you about the sweet in sweet pickle.  I wrote one day how he brought sweetness and light to my mind.  Anticipating other than what I received, I was over the moon delighted to have a “real” man, as he most clearly is, respond I was correct, especially about the sweet.  Something in that (the surprise welcome reception), I believe brought forth my tongue in cheek to say:  “you won’t mind my calling you sweet pickle, then”.

What for years has been my mantra that I want to find my “good” man, has now extended to:  I want to find my “sweet, good” man.

What follows are some things I wrote to him and about him AFTER we were no longer communicating mutually.

Dear Sweet,  Were your picture on a huge screen the entire world could see, your life would be one huge assault -- by women, clamoring to have a chance at you.  They say as we get older, men and women switch roles; meaning women are more expressive of their male side, men more of their female side.  That is on my mind because I AM so immensely attracted to you because of your appearance.  Not to say I haven't been attracted to men because of their appearance before:  Richard Burton, Richard Gere, as you already know -- Patrick Swayze, Ron Thring - a high school looker,  Brad Pitt (at one time) and, no doubt, many others.  But you -- magnify all that yearning and yenning -- I don't even know how many fold.  My computer is surely taxed with all the pictures of you that I have reworked.  I love, love, love how you look.  And, still, you are more than your looks!  What a flesh and blood man!  And, that, despite your closemouthed - ness.  What's a woman to do?

Eyes to Melt an Ice Queen

Had I not been so intrigued by the pictures of you that I saw on your site, I wonder that I wouldn't have bounced you and ignored your friend request.  Your site, after all, had several red flags to it.  Barely any info and shrouded in secrecy.  No friends to see, although there were a few commenters.

What a shame that would have been!  [I have that next to a poster that made the rounds on Facebook from Awesome Quotes4Eva:  “Have You Ever Just Stopped and Realized That if You Hadn’t Met a Certain Person, Your Entire Life Would Be Completely Different?”]

And, this is why I've begun to write TO YOU in my I (kal) IMAGINE journal.

Napoleon Hill is very forcefully committed to us having a MAJOR DEFINITE PURPOSE, a MAJOR CHIEF AIM, a PLAN and to us spending 30 minutes a day thinking about ourselves as we wish to become.

You likely thought I was truly "ringy, dingy" the way I reacted to your simple question:  Do you not want a partner?  As you know, I have spoken about my wanting "my good man" since third grade.  Since I've been married twice, what happened?  Well, I don't know that you'll ever care to know, you seem to be able to dismiss the past; although I don't know that.  What that question apparently did for me, however, is dislodge a landslide.  I came to realize, (and it did still take time) was that I was operating from the wrong perspective.  I had been squelching my desires for and pursuit after MY good man, until I could prove I could overcome my resistance to money and having it and procuring it through some passion of mine.  All the while I had a passion to, INDEED have a partner (and well you described what I wanted as you shared what you wanted -- a companion, someone to share your feelings with, a soul mate).  You were absolutely eloquent in that email.  Did YOU really write that?  I believe you did.  And you stunned me with your simplicity, straightforwardness, forthcomingness and the beauty with which you bespoke your desire.  I HAD TO CHANGE~!

I may be too late for you.  I hope not.  It will take some time on my part.  Time was apparently invented for those of my ilk.  But, I AM willing to change.  My desire is that it benefit me with one day meeting you and truly getting to know you and certainly, to thank you.

I find this quote from Elisabeth Kubler-Ross & David Kessler very “right on” for what I’m trying to say here:

“You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one;    

you will learn to live with it.

   

 You will heal and you will rebuild yourself

around the loss you have suffered. 

 

You will be whole again but you will never be the same.

Nor should you be the same,  nor would you want to.”

So true!  I shall indeed be whole, one day.  I am not at all certain that "again" has any place in that.  AND, I will never be the same.  Thank God for that..  Thank God for you~!

And so, I have you to be my focus for improving me now; whether or not, I shall ever meet you or communicate with you again.

 

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