Broken Hearted Melody...NOT!

See that gal there on the right? That's Dawn. She was a doll my sister had when we were but little wee ones. On many occasions I played with my sister with her dolls. Yes, how typical. Dawn was smaller overall then Barbie. The really cool thing was she came with this special stand that fit into the center of a 45 RPM record so she'd spin to the music. Well, if you haven't already clicked on the button above to listen, do so now. This cut is the "B" side to Misty and I have loved it since I was a small child. This was one of our favorite songs (OK, maybe it was MY favorite song) to have Dawn perform to. See the depth of it at even a young age - not merely playing with dolls but creating entire drag-like performance for them no less! Alright, so you're probably wondering what the hell my point is here and it's coming...just enjoy the music and keep reading.

This song has always been with me-it's a great break up song, keeps a good upbeat tempo, has a little sauciness to it, it's simply awesome. In no ways a crack-out-the-razor-blades-my-life-is-over dirge. Those who have only recently gotten to know me are aware of my staunchly single hermity side. There was a large period of my life, however, where that was not the case. For many years I was in the "I'm-nothing-without-a-boyfriend" camp. I pursued them with a vengeance - probably why they ran the other way most of the time. My inner lesbian was present even back then. You know, have you heard the joke? "What does a lesbian bring on a second date?......A moving van." Scared many of them off - probably with good reason. Finally, when I was 31 I met this sweet guy. I pursued him valiantly - he had many guys interested. He once told me that the reason I got through was because I was a "gentleman." Ironically that's how my grandfather succeeded in wooing my grandmother. Truth be told, he was a wounded bird. I specialized in wounded birds - was attracted to wounded birds almost exclusively. Wounded birds are folks that are hurt, insecure, injured in some way or just severely damaged or broken. Want a severe example? When I was 27 I dated an HIV+ coke addict who actually stole from me and I had moved him into my apartment because he got kicked out where he was staying. Mind you the first night he didn't come home, I called the police. (very humiliating in 1990) The second time he didn't come home I changed the locks. I took his cd's to a used record store and recouped the value of what he had stolen and put his crap on the back porch for him to collect when he finally contacted me. Now THAT'S a wounded bird! This other guy wasn't wounded like that - he was wounded because he had been abused. We were together for about 1 1/2 years. It's safe to say he was the love of my life. I have since figured out what my needs are and what freaks me out and have realized I prefer being single. It took me a long time though to get there. I grieved this lost relationship for years. I moved to the U.P. to get out of the same city, hoping it would help me heal. It did. (That and the Lexapro, I'm sure). So what the hell is my point? This...

After reconnecting via e-mail a few years back, we finally met face to face for the first time in over 10 years this week. I was very anxious about the whole thing. I mean, I'm big as a house now; he, of course, looks almost unchanged from 10 years ago. I was afraid that it would be like in many of the sad songs - I'd see him in person and all the grief would come back like a tsunami. It didn't. Not even a little bit. In fact, I felt very little of anything but relief. We had a lovely couple of dinners. We laughed and reminisced. He looks great. He's doing well. In the end I wasn't self conscious at all. I am who I am and it really didn't matter what he thought of how I looked or how my life is arranged or where I'm living. It just didn't matter to me. Today, I feel exhilarated by the complete freedom I am feeling. It's that last little bit of doubt that has been vanquished. This is not to destroy the memory of what we had. He will continue to be the love of my life. We were there for each other at a period where we both needed each other. It just had a very short lifespan before it played itself out. That's all. As I recall there are only two bits of fiction that caused me to weep as I read them. This is a small fragment of one of them from For Whom The Bell Tolls by Hemingway:

But Maria has been good. Has she not?...Maybe that is what I am to get now from life. Maybe that is my life and instead of it being threescore years and ten it is forty-eight hours...So if your life trades its seventy years for seventy hours I have that value now and I am lucky enough to know it. And if there is not any such thing as a long time, nor the rest of your lives, nor from now on, but there is only now, why then now is the thing to praise and I am very happy with it.

If you're not familiar with the plot, he is an American fighting in Spain and knows he is likely not to survive the mission but has met this woman Maria. He realizes that a love can be complete and not be a forever and ever thing. I have that value now...completely. Peace, friends.