I discovered the beauty of writing a romantic word, it leads to where I am today, yet alone again. The only truth I know is the words are, were, remain real.
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Daily Archives: February 9, 2019
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Years Later
Posted at 10:10 pm , on February 9, 2019
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Jane – story # 2
Posted at 8:59 pm , on February 9, 2019
This story is meant for you, and I wish you were out there because everything I say, you will know, and I would be so happy to find you again. Jane is her real name. Story # 1 is a play on words, call it a non sequitur of love.
i met Jane in college. She was this elegant woman who walked across campus alone every day. She walked home from school, I didn’t know where she went once she crossed the street while I stood at the bus stop. She wore green rain boots up to her calves even when it wasn’t rain. She had jeans and a pullover with a waist long jean jacket and a scarf. A stocking cap and a pensive expression carried her past me about a block away every day. One day a friend of mine at the bus stop, said that would be the girl for me, you’re both kind of artsy. I had a lot of respect for my friend so for her to say that to me, I was extremely complimented and happy.
So I began to look for Jane at school, it was a small school, we weren’t too hidden from each other. One day I was in the library and she sat with a magazine directly across from me, and we looked at each nervously for about ten minutes, paging through our magazines having no idea what the contents were. We were just watching each other. She got up in a few minutes and walked into the stacks to study. I stayed in my chair, and realized I needed to ask her out. In a few minutes I walked the stacks found her cubicle and introduced myself. I did actually stumble as I walked up to her – perhaps that helped.
We spent the next six months at her place – her dad worked in town, the house was always hers – we took walks together, and made love in the afternoon sunlight. We never consummated our love making, we did everything we could possibly wish to but didn’t have intercourse. I felt strongly at the time, if we did, I would need to marry her, and I was 21, and scared.
One day we took a walk in a normal part of the wood. We aimed for a meadow we would always find one another in and make love. She was a lot of steps in front of me, so I anticipated her being there – but she wasn’t. When I got there, I noticed she was a couple of blocks away and walking into our local fairgrounds park. I found her in the bleachers crying. She actually said to me words that I would hear twenty years later – Is this all there is – we stayed together though for two more years.
One day we skipped school the entire afternoon. We went to a local car lot and took a brown Volvo wagon for a test drive. The owner was a family friend, so we kept the car for six hours, we made love in it, and we talked about buying it moving to California. We drove around school like we were really something. I won’t forget that day.
We eventually broke up. One afternoon while laying together in her place, I ran my hands along her jeans and said they fit her so well, and she said yeah, she had been wearing them for eight days. I’ve written about those jeans. I’ve written about her. She was my first real love.
We separated and I heard she was going out with another local guy I knew. He was good man, I was happy for her. One of the things we agreed to do was write each other letters. This was long before internet. We’d write a letter and it would take a day or two to get to one another. They were beautiful letters. I still have hers, I hope she has mine. She had a long gravel road to her home from the mail box. She would read my letter on her way back so she could be done before Bill would see the letter. She told me he didn’t like the letters, and she gave me a smiley face to let me know it was ok.
We moved to separate cities – and we continued writing. One day I wrote her a letter and asked her to move to Minneapolis, and she scathed me – ‘how could you possibly think I would just pick up and leave?’ I never wrote her again. I think she wanted me to convince her, and I was too scared. I took it the wrong way. I would have a penchant for misreading signals the rest of my life.
If you can see this Jane, just know my love for you is nostalgic and filled with a sweet romantic memory. I do hope you are well.
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That First Time #1
Posted at 8:12 pm , on February 9, 2019
When I was 15 I walked around with a lot of anxiety. I knew quite clearly I loved girls, there was something about their eyes, their walk, a smile that had me feeling nervous anytime I was around one. If conversation ever came around anything sexual, I turned red, and I was known to blush. I’m going to call her Emma Lee. She was 15 too, and I remember telling my friend Jeff I was going to ask her out. He laughed, said she’ll never go out with you. Now I was challenged but it didn’t matter because she was the cutest girl I’d ever seen. So I did, and she said yes.
We went out for two weeks. The first time I kissed her I fell in love. It didn’t matter what we did after that, just being with meant the world. We played around, went to a couple of movies, did the arm around shoulders thing, walked down the street hanging onto each other’s hips like we were holding one another up. A couple of weeks like this went by and we went to the local swimming hole. It was hot enough to be in swim suits, so here I was with Emma Lee, and she was in a bikini, and I could barely hide my 15 year old excitement. I was embarrassed, and whether she knew or not, she was right by my side and she wanted to kiss. We did, we were all alone, I could have gone wherever I wanted with my hands, my mouth, my legs, but I didn’t. I felt like I didn’t want to take advantage of her, or maybe I didn’t want her to feel like I was. So I held back, ready to explode in my swim suit. We laughed, and talked and the afternoon went by, and then I bicycled home with her. I felt something was off.
The next day she broke up with me, said she just wasn’t feeling it. I’ve always wondered if because I held back, she was bored. Shortly after that she started going out with a guy that was twice my size, and I don’t think he waited around. They spent the next couple of high school years together, while I pined every time I saw her in the halls. We ran in different circles the rest of high school, but I couldn’t forget her. She was my first love, my brother called it puppy love. That’s what it was.
That’s when I realized there was no question in my mind that I was in love with the beauty and elegance of woman.
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Speaking To Pain
Posted at 1:25 pm , on February 9, 2019
This is such a difficult topic. We seldom want to go here and the people that do, I admire because somehow they are able to tap into those demons, the ones that leave me in a constant of revealing my darkest terrors. I honestly don’t know if I will get there yet.
Everything I write about in here is about love, and there is pain in love, I get it, and I understand, but I don’t wish to comprehend it. I don’t want to face it, I don’t want to accept the pain that goes with love. I don’t want to be that guy that is just hurting, because if that is all I express, how can that person I love have any patience with any effort I put toward letting her know how I feel.
I don’t think that is a question in the mind of someone who has separated themselves from that person who they know holds onto a candle of hope. Their choice is to occupy their lives with priorities that no longer offer memories, and for me that is one of the most tragic parts of who we are, were, or ever could be. I am completely lost and I have these moments of pure defeat that leave me wondering what purpose I have for trying to move forward.
I got really sick a month ago, found myself in the hospital, and the one person I wanted to hear from wants nothing to do with me. This is preservation on her part, and I get it but this is also my lesson in love, and it is the hardest study I have ever endured.
I’m speaking from my heart, and I do not want sympathy, I just appreciate being able to tap into this when I can.
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Missing Rhythm
Posted at 8:33 am , on February 9, 2019
I miss the sunlight
an imagined moment might
shelter peace tonight
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Losing My Muse
Posted at 12:26 am , on February 9, 2019
The truth is, years ago, I fell in love with a woman who one day decided her life was moving in a different direction and I was left behind. My recovery took many years, in fact a friend of mine, one time pointed out that for several days all I did was talk about the loss, and I needed to change my focus.
So I did, after some time, I knew I was still in love, but ironically, I found out she had been sleeping with my best friend for months, so suddenly everything made sense, and I started to get past my broken heart. The one thing I said to myself was that I would never fall in love to such a degree again.
Jump a few years later and I decided to settle down with a woman whom had similar goals as mine – we got married, but I knew going in – this is a sad reality – I would never love again the way I had. I would simply be content. We have beautiful children together and we made a life. Sadly though I’ve never been happy, and I cannot imagine she has been. Despite it all we stayed together.
Embedded within all of this common reality is an experience I discovered while in grad school. Many years ago, I met a woman whom carried a similar energy as my own. We began writing letters and discovered a love for words, something I had missed with a woman for many many years. we then took it a step further and became intimate, spreading years between those early days of romantic parchment to now an enticement with one another. One day, in the winter, very much like our present season, I felt I must tell her that I loved her, and I did, but she heard me wrong – and the timing unraveled our affections. We had been walking around with an ‘is this all there is’ and I was afraid to tell her that I loved her because I thought I would lose her. It back fired and we fell apart. I returned fully – as much as possible – to my marriage, a broken and confused man – struggling with my reality, while a woman I loved faded out of my life.
I looked for her over the years, knew where she was but let her go. I even deleted her phone number so I wouldn’t be tempted. It wasn’t until years later I discovered she would call my voice mail with certain music that touched my heart.
A few years ago, a decade after we had gone our ways we did encounter one another, and over the course of several months we realized we were both quite in love, and our courtship outside of our marriages began again. We expressed our desires at the same time knowing we could not maintain the level of passion we experienced together but we always assured ourselves we probably would never leave this in the same circumstances as years ago.
I had found my muse and the mystique of her beauty and elegance became again, as it was without her directly in my life, the drive for my sensual poetry. Now, I am in a place where I no longer have the inspiration and that aspect of my writing is impacted, so I struggle with my words.
The one true thing I will finish with is I’ve just written a fantasy that I hope you the readers might have enjoyed. Because, there seems no reality in my words.
So now my days are spent searching for my muse, knowing love once again played its harmony with great zeal and slapped my heart and soul with disparaging abandon.
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