Out and about on a cold but sunny day.
So, it is over with Ell. Time to get back to work.
Like a kid with a new toy, I am now a “poet”. Which means I have to be a poet.
Over the next few weeks I insert poems into initial greetings. I’ll share a few below, but basically I want to say they had no effect, which is not to say they didn’t have a bad effect. No response from any of these. I don’t do this anymore. You’ll be shaking your head, but all of these were written within some context of their profile. I had to show how clever I could be.
Is your intuition still on high? For you, I am just not the right guy. Or are you holding back on the start? Of what could be a path to your heart.
Didn't your Mother say, Dark alleys and gutters, you should not stay. Wasn't she very clear, Fun at first, but what came of too much beer?
Oh, hello again. It is nice to see My young friend from the State of Hawaii. Most people are jealous Of what you do not miss. Searching, searching all over Where is the state of bliss?
A cricket is an odd creature To think that it is a feature. Small and hard and black and shiney Folks want to render it slimey. Then there is the music to hear. Quite the enjoyment to be near. They are an interesting class. Specially if you are a bass.
I’m going to meet Ell. Butterflies. I walked up to the door. It opens.
I’m shocked, instantly.
Now my friends all know that I have many a fantasy running in my head. I want the world to be one way, it is another.
Please, please, please do not misunderstand. Ell has never said an unkindly thing. Her work is probably saintly. Via email, text and phone she has inspired me in my poetry.
Call me a hypocrite for claiming tolerance. I have issues over weight and so does she. Mine are psychological, hers are physical. Sorry, but she does not look like her pictures. I stumble through the day. She is a perfect hostess. I am a perfect gentleman. I’m chastising myself to look past this one issue. I try. Being a coward, I never address the elephant in the room (now stop that, not her, the issue). Eventually, I leave diplomatically.
I called back from the road. It was a long drive back home, real long.
Let us say we had a disagreement over the situation, with her pointing out some of my shortcomings. She scored some points by reminding me I could not see the future and what her intentions were. I was suffering from cognitive dissonance.
Over the next several days we talked. She tried very hard to recapture the past and convince me of the future, which included the two of us together. I wrote her:
Life is a jumbling, tumbling mess, Where we honestly try our best. But that is not always enough, To bring all of us through the tough. And end in a jumbling, tumbling mess.
In the end, amazingly, we stayed friendly. I kept corresponding with her both as a friend and as my “poetry editor”. I continued writing and she continued to like everything I wrote.
And then one day she called with awful news. She had been diagnosed with cancer.
Please, meaning no disrespect, but I’m going to skip ahead to: she was treated successfully.
During this time an amazing thing happened. She reached out to a very old friend, who turns out to have always had a flame for her. He was available and willing to come help her through this tough time. He did. They decided to get married. He bought them a house on the lake.
I’ve never heard from her since.
I sent her this poem. I don’t know if she liked it:
Two fast sailing ships met on the sea. The SSA and the SSB. Both courses were running parallel. So close, being spotted on each swell. Long from port, long at sea Enjoying each other’s company. Swapping stories, comparing sights, Happily they passed through the night. With busy crews and too much sea. Back they went, on with their journeys. Often the case, noted in the logs. They drifted apart, lost in the fog. Many storms later, beaten by the sea. With places they would much rather be. Being plagued by alternate visions, Wondering which were the right decisions. A harsh mistress they say of the sea. How can it make anyone that happy. But luck and the right currents and winds, What was lost may be recovered again. Thus written is one legend of the sea. When the SSA re-found the SSB Joyous celebration was the report. Now they reside in the same small port.
I have been on Match.com for 6 months now. Being a “quant” (person who likes playing with numbers) I decided to look at my dance card.
248 = number of emails sent out
129 = number of individuals in that group
107 = number of emails received
40 = number of individuals in that group
6 = number of meets scheduled
3 = number of meets that occurred
1 = number of second (or more) meets that occurred
Why those 3 meets did not occur.
1. I went to the meeting site, she never showed up. She apologized, but said she forgot. We met later, but she said she only did it because she felt guilty.
2. I was 1/2 hour late to the meeting site and she was no longer there. I had been in a meeting I just couldn’t get out of.
3. I was 1/2 hour late to the meeting site and she was no longer there. This was an attempt at LDR and lots went wrong on the drive; forest fire, car wreck, much construction.
My bad for #2/#3. However, we had failed to exchange phone numbers and I could not inform them I was running late. #2 was gracious following my apology and didn’t want to see me again. #3 was not gracious and didn’t want to see me again.
So, what conclusions can we draw from my experience?
For Ell, as usual, a 4:06 poem;
To rebel, must you be young or old? Objecting to that which you are told. Is your need to be right, An entertaining sight? Or does it hinge around what is sold? Else wise, must you follow the mighty? Worrying to be labeled flighty. Is your need to be right, An entertaining sight? Or does it keep your world tidy?
I believe I mentioned that this was a LDR (long distance relationship). Up to this point that “relationship” consisted of email, text and phone calls, lots of them.
Tomorrow we are going to meet. I drove close to her place so that we could meet for breakfast. I texted the following goodnight:
As the distance shrinks, anticipation. As the full moon sinks, participation.
It’s nice to be home. But only for a short time before I head out on the big adventure.