I often wonder if everyone has one. Or if people just choose one out of all the loves that they’ve had. Or if maybe they haven’t loved anybody they’ve had, so the one that was their favorite is offhandedly given that distinction with these particular words.
Mine? As if I’d write about that here. 🙂 Nope.
In any case, it’s been one of those years, and I spend quite a deal of my time that’s not occupied with something else out walking. And while I’m walking, things become quiet. All the noise will recede.
The noise of my home, or of a Whole Foods run.
The noise of moving things from place to place indoors, or mowing, or clipping, or trimming outdoors.
The sounds coming out of my computer screen in the background while I’m painting or constructing or writing or researching.
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Over the last year, I’ve run through the whole series of Dawson’s Creek, several Netflix series, and been entertained by Peggy Scott, Aunt Agnes Van Rhijn, and Bertha Russell- from season one to season 3- several times. (November 1 will be my favorite holiday this year. When you know, you know.)
And when you’re working with any type of background noise coming from a computer, there’s a whole bunch of mental imaging going on as well. So along with all the other things that the brain might be doing, mine is parsing like HAL 2000, or V‘Ger.
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So back to the walk.
Stepping outside, the noise of inside disappears. The noise of outside replaces it. In my town, I can hear the sound of birds and insects, and sometimes that bizarre hum of an electric vehicle. Lately, the wood chippers are everywhere as people realize that trees in their front yard or behind their house might be better off coming down rather than ending up comfortably nestled into their garage roof.
After about five or six minutes, settling in, the sky becomes my entertainment, and I take note of the clouds. What type are up there today? What shape are they’re taking? If I can see the moon, is he waxing or waning? And if any of the planets are shining during the day, where do they sit?
Ten minutes or so in, my mind starts to open up. All of the noise is gone, and after I think of my son and whatever adventure we’ve had over the last few days, or about all the little things, my mind is always moving toward the year to come.
Regardless of the latest crazy ass sus shit going on in the world, or whatever is in the peripheral of my own life, in spite of whatever is going on with any of a variety and classification of attorneys in any given week, my brain grabs a hold of my thoughts and mentally drags them toward a nice bench on the boardwalk, held hostage and forced to ponder romance.
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Thoughts and impressions are filtered through my Virgo core. And though it’s been a minute since romance, I’ve caught wind of it. And as it isn’t bizarre or untoward to be out in the world and come across another human being who is extremely attractive, notes are taken. Beauty in the eye and all that.
Lately, the guy who becomes the highlight of my thoughts, even if I’ve only seen him for a minute and never see him again, can find me crushing on thinking about a walk, a talk and him. I’m daydreaming, literally. I’m doing the thing we all do quietly, because it’s the only option available.
Romance.
It’s the thought of the thing, run through with a star-filled sky, a warm summer breeze, and light conversation. With nowhere to go, even a thought of something becomes a memory of the thought, tucked away, and that’s just silly. But we of the nearly-but-not-quite-divorced have only a few options, and that doesn’t mean I’m going to start dating- or cheating- just because technically, I could. Whether it has become socially and legally acceptable or not. I won’t cheat myself out of the experience of enjoying my first new romance as a completely free woman.
I can be as attractive or not, as interesting or not, I can appear to be twenty years younger than I am, but it makes no difference.
There is a man who will value the value I’ve decided I have. I am a jewel. And a man can count on my sexual, emotional, and legal fidelity until I am no longer bound. Daydreams aside.
I am not any guy’s option, yet. I’m not even my own option- to see what I want to see out there. I’m off limits, for now.
So the metaphorical Rolodex comes out, and when I say Rolodex, there really is a mental image of a Rolodex.
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Some people will categorize. It goes like this:
…well, I liked this person, and these were the things about them I liked best, and I liked that person, and those were the things that I liked about them best, and I was in love once, and this is what was great about it, and I was in love another time, and this is what was fantastic…
But for me, there are no categories. I don’t compartmentalize any of the romances or relationships that I’ve had in my past. They are all filtered through the same psycho-biological, physio-emotional sieve. Every relationship that I’ve had, whether there was love involved, or romance, or great intellect, or a combination of some of those, or all three, bursts in my brain into the same room through the same door or window.
My favorite romances are those that involved long walks and long talks serving as the core of the relationship. A relationship cannot for me, be considered a romance without those things. And to be a romance in my mind, those things couldn’t have ended. They had to last from beginning to end, from the very, very first time I spent time with a guy or a man, all the way to the very last day. And they did. Those conversations are a part of me and will be until at least my death. They are the benchmarks. A warm place to return to, to sit, and to savor.
The crazy thing is that the relationships I spent the most time in always found the walking and talking end. And when that two-way, focused interaction began to fade, awareness removed romance from the equation on my end. Thinking about this as it occurs is always interesting, because when you move out of the beginnings, in most cases that dynamic does fade a bit. There may be just as much conversation, but it begins to take a very defined shape. It isn’t the delicate, improvisational morph of anticipation and exploration, it is more what you’re going to do, rehashing what you did, when you’re going to X and when you’re available for XX. For me, the fact a relationship can go on when the magical-mystical is no longer around for a hang has always been a curious and interesting ride.
Because it is proof that other factors involved besides romance and besides love may have been a stronger or otherwise more influential reason to keep it going. And for me, it is always something really weird.
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One standout was the Home Depot run. No conversation between me and the guy- he was up and down the construction aisles, hunting and gathering. But for me, walking slowly through the hardware aisle, browsing the shelves of power tools, and studying the lighting fixtures was conversation.
A conversation with myself I’d never had before. The introduction of something new- almost exactly the opposites-attract thing- is as mesmerizing as the good kiss that never comes. So the romance between me and the guy fizzled, but in the wake, a new romance developed between me and the things I did alongside the guy. Connecting the Home Depot run to a guy created a different kind of connection, one twisted together like a bit of paper covered wire around the end of a bag of fresh bread. The Fun Connection. And in a Fun Connection, of course the other person is part of it, but not the main aspect of it. You’re looking at the (in my case) guy, and you’re thinking about the fun you’ve had, but afterward, the convo is with yourself. You tell the guy you had fun at Home Depot, and he is invariably transfixed, and you get that, but later, you’re having a very intense conversation about the experience inside yourself. You can tell the guy you’ve never really done HD runs and how much you love the store and all the things inside. You can describe how home improvement tools and such open a new part of your understanding of a rehab because once organized in aisles and spread over shelves, you can actually see the process and the steps in the process and coolest of all- you really shop in a home improvement store the same way you’re suppossed to shop in the grocery store; around the edges, and avoid the middle.
In the grocery store all the unnecessary and unhealthy crap is in the middle, in Home Depot all the accessories and decor is in the middle. Same thing. Once you see, you can’t unsee. But he will just sort of shake his head with an indulgent smile and not get that you’ve just learned something in 5 Home Depot runs it might take weeks or years or maybe never to really understand where the dynamics of developing property are concerned. When you see the tangibles of what it takes, it all falls into place. The complexity. The simplicity. The fact that once you have the knowledge, you expand a bit.
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This applies to tailgates, crossing the Atlantic moving over the currents of the jet stream, learning to play poker in a casino, learning to get on foil, and learning to fly. Crazy thing is that the other person usually isn’t around to take pride in your roll control. People open up new worlds for you and are completely unaware. They want to imprint on your heart, and forget that your soul is the master of your heart. Proof that even without the walking and talking, the ties that bind- even once unwound- can outlive the romance.
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How many conversations do we have with ourselves, while involved with someone who has nothing to say beyond a certain point, conversations that tide us over until we’ve run out of things to say to ourselves? It’s settling, for sure, but does it feel like it? I think many women simply consider this settling in. Let’s go back, shall we, and slap our own hands. Or, if we really want to wake ourselves, let’s just go hard against our own cheek. Because we all expect relationships to calm a bit, but unless we’re really checked out, we are not settling in. We are settling.
This isn’t in my wheelhouse.
I’m thinking about romance because I miss a clean slate and the part where I’m just me, in the world, and I can reply to any guy I want to. Or not. Thinking about the time I can smile and talk and not have the marriage thing that I’ve been carrying solo for the last few years holding me back. But really it’s not so simple as that. I don’t want a man who would consider getting involved with a woman who isn’t legally free. People who get involved with married people will get involved with married people. And you most likely will not be the last, even if you’re unaware.
So many options, and no one really concerned about the consequences. Not the person moving like they are free when they aren’t, not the people slapping those overlappers on the back, not the interested bystanders.
I’m thinking about romance because it’s always been there, but until very recently it has been something in my rearview in the same way I no longer stop for a burger and I no longer color my hair. It just hasn’t applied and wasn’t a possibility that it could be applicable.
But now, I can see it. I feel it out of nowhere when the guy with the neat, trimmed ponytail stops just to chat with me, and notices the way I set up my ring finger when I’m out, and respects it. I wonder about the walk and talk we might have had if my ring finger was empty.
Because it will be eventually. And that guy?
The circle we move in will still be there. And I noticed him studying my eyes. And he knows how to ask a question hidden in a question without being slimy or insinuating or again, untoward. There’s a good guy right there- and maybe next year I’ll find out if he kisses like a reptile or doesn’t open the door for any older woman in his proximity. He may be off the roster. But maybe I’ll find out if his favorite part of a sailboat is my favorite part, or if he will be surprised I can put a small plane in the air and land it, perfectly. That I love being on the ocean or on the water, but not in it. Maybe he will know my favorite color. My favorite song.
Maybe not. Maybe it’s some other guy. Details are details, but they don’t alter the point.
The point is, there will be a guy.
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The Rebound Steep: According to data cited by Forbes Advisor and Pew Research, the divorce rate rises substantially with subsequent marriages: 67% of second marriages and 73% of third marriages ultimately end in divorce. Marital experts point to several contributing factors, including the tendency to move too quickly into a new relationship and blend lives before the structural and emotional issues left over from the previous marriage have been fully addressed.
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photos + other loves of my life + son + sand + sea + cappuccino +
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