Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Joanie's 40

I swear what follows is the truth, the best as I remember it. I admit that there's no way I can inform you as to what the hell I am like in a relationship. I admit that it's a natural tendency to try to make yourself look better than you actually looked in the circumstance. I'll try to keep that to a minimum...I also readily acknowledge that what follows is, in its entirety, my opinion. You can sort the shit from the shinola yourself.

Today is Joanie's 40th birthday.

I probably won't talk to her, but I am sending along a card. We haven't really spoken since she kicked me out of her life, once again, too predictably. There isn't much for me to say to her. The things that I love about her disappear when she stops loving me, and begging for mercy is like begging summer to stick around permanently.

You ask yourself, why do I do this? Why do I put my neck on the chopping block? Why do I always try to kick the god-damned football she proffers?

The answer is simple. I am motivated by love. Twue wuv.

Why do I seemingly become a fool?

For the first time, I was able to forgive her for what went before. Somehow this also taught me how to not cling to her as obsessively as I once did. Since all the bad stuff about me was suddenly in a place that wasn't beyond my control, how could we go wrong this time?

Because my development wasn't matched in kind. Sure, she developed, but it was professionally, not personally. If anything, she's worse today than I have ever known her to be. Obviously, I have a skewed view, as I get to see a months long performance; then that character disappears from view.

Which isn't to say that I am the picture of mental health...I'm not. But I am very aware of exactly where I have "developmental opportunities," to use the obfuscating quality of the retail patois...and because I am aware of my flaws, I can easily forgive her flaws...

Unfortunately, one of those flaws that she is unable to feel compassion...at least when it comes to me. I am sure if you ask her sister, she'd say that Joanie was very compassionate. It's just that I never got to see it, or benefit from it...she sets the bar very high for me, higher than she herself is able to attain...and is unforgivng when I can't meet her expectations.

I promised I would detail this one day...I can't see a better opportunity ever opening up...

I first saw Joanie at the hot dog stand, that was open opposite the Sound Place, a tiny retail esablishment that lived off of the larger Federated Group electronics store in the Old Town Mall, Torrance, California. It was the summer of 1986. She was wearing this incredibly dramatic outfit, highlighted by a gold sash wrapped around her ass...I was transfixed...but I was taken...

I worked at the Sound Place, as an assistant manager. I left the Federated Group to go to work there. I would eventually return, and in the interim, Joanie was hired into the video rentals section...when I came back, I was no longer with Andrea, but I was a new father. I took every opportunity to chat Joanie up...and she seemed as taken with me as I was with her.

Seemed!

I'll never forget the mad kisses we exchanged behind the dumpster in Old Town's rear parking lot, our very first kisses (kisses as passionate exchanged as recently as the day she ended it)...our first dates...the smell of her breath...first demanding every moment of my time, then vanishing for days...insisting on demonstrations of affection that grew increasingly difficult to pull off (demands made as recently as--)...all night spent in my Dodge Colt in a restaurant parking lot, spending most of it discussing eloping...tears of laughter and insanity from both of us...insisting that I couldn't love her because she didn't love herself. This statement was renewed the night I returned from B.C. Her statement was untrue. It would have been true for her to state: "Because I don't love myself, I can't love you." A very harsh lesson, one which thankfully stings less with time and repeated exposure.

I could not live without her. I have felt that way more than once, but it's been over over a dozen years now. Routines became such a damned distraction from her company. No one had ever owned my heart the way she did then, the fall and winter of 1986/'87. She would own it in similar fashion again; but sadly, not ever permanently...

I moved into her house in January of 1987. I lived there until I elected to move out, upon another break-up, in July of 1988...there was a smattering of love, a lot of yelling and feigning hate, some passionate and occasionally furtive sex...but mainly a lot of yelling...I used to think her longing for me fueled her hatred. Based on what she's shown me, it's actually based on REAL hatred.

We would get together and separate more times than I care to admit, and on some occasions I truly regret. The last real one was in 1998, just as her ex Phil was getting ready to leave So. Cal. for more familiar environs for him on the East Coast. I had a sense that she was grabbing on to me because he was leaving. When she ended that go-round, I had closure for the first time. The only way I could possibly make her happy would be to fundamentally alter my personality. I could not do it.

We traded emails and even went out a couple of times last year; we seemed to be circling each other for another go 'round, but when she informed me that her ex was going to be staying with her more frequently than she previously had said, I just assumed she was back with him. I turned out to be wrong, even if leaving then probably spared me some pain.

I was fine on my own. Sure, I have had my share of romantic misadventures this year, but that's all in a day's work. It goes with the territory. I told her she doesn't do well in captivity. She paints a picture describing her love for me, as we fall into an open relationship. I let her convince me that she wants the same things I do; my fondness becomes the love I once knew for her, tempered of course by our history; and by my embracing the idea of impermanence in the last few years. Then, she sets the painting on fire, proving the Buddhists correct yet again. Of course, after the picture's turned to ash, the love brings pain. The pain is tempered by the fact that I was in love with something that either didn't really exist, or didn't belong in my possession anyway. I will always go after love if it means I won't be hurting someone else...it's the best way to live, madly in love...

I will not settle for less than that. I am already happy in this existence. There's someone out there that can appreciate what I have to offer. Until then, I party on...with the very best of friends, and some amazing lovers...

Friends that yell at me for giving her more chances, but then back off and give me room to make my own mistakes...

I am buoyed up and out of any depression that may rear its head by the knowledge of the love and support I enjoy in this world. By this standard, I am one of the wealthiest men alive. I am thankful for all of the blessings I receive.

I think its what keeps drawing her back to me...like a moth to a flame. Or Charlie Brown to his next field goal attempt. All he needs is a more reliable holder.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Tom -

As always eloquent and thought provoking.

Being touched be a crazy love that seizes your very soul is a once in a lifetime experience...And when it goes bad it makes its own special level of hell.

I understand the urge to fly towards the flame of that which we perceive as amorous perfection can be overwhelming. Rest assured that your friends will always be here to catch you - singed wings and all.

10:51 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Love is Hate...Know Your Enemies

10:56 PM  
Blogger TRS said...

I agree, love and hate are made of the same psychic substance, and circumstance and memory dictate interpretation...

But the love and hate form ambivalence...which produces sadness, which isn't ambivalence anymore...

10:01 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home