Jim
and Jim, and Jim again. All night, it seemed. Scenes from the past revisited, scenes of a possible future. We talked about why it didn't work out, and why it never would, and how it could. There was sex, tears, anger, sweetness, and I woke up, and Lilah thumped her tail in greeting, and the world was back. The world where Jim never wants to speak to me again, and Brian wouldn't want me speaking to him even if he did. I found his P.O.Box today on Google and thought about sending him a card to tell him mom died, but it would probably only make him angry.
I still love them all. Every person I ever said "I love you" to. I've fucked up a lot, but I got that part right. Whatever it is I loved about them, I still love that, no matter what else transpired. The church people missed the point - it shouldn't be "don't have sex before marriage", it should be "don't fall in love before marriage". That's the part that kills me. The fact that little chunks of my heart are out running around the country without me, and I don't know if the bit that I have left is enough. Bri deserves more than a piece of me, but what we deserve and what we get in life...
Clayton just got back in touch with me. Sort of. Matt and Billy are still not talking to me. Maggie and Aaron are still ghosts.
I keep hoping and not hoping that Jim will drop by the movie theater with his woman some evening just so I can see what he looks like at 50, and so I can see what she looks like, my replacement, who is closer to his age. Do they play tennis/raquetball/golf at the club together? Do they go deep sea fishing? Does it soothe his soul that she has grown children, so he now has pseudo-step-children of his own? He has a two-bedroom condo in Ft. Pierce that he rents by the month to British tourists. How many other properties? We used to fight about money. Now he doesn't seem to need to struggle. If I had listened to all those impassioned, pleading love letters begging me not to leave him, quite possibly I'd be living in my own home, with children I gave birth to, and calling myself Mrs. Toler. But then I would have missed out on James, and Bob, and Brian, part two. The last five years...how do you measure the worth of safety, of comfort, of knowing you're with someone you can trust? Everyone lies, yeah, I hear you, Dr. House, but Brian doesn't lie about the important things, and what's that worth? (Also, he's never found me too revolting to touch, as Jim did once and I can't forget. Or, at least, if Brian has felt that way, he was wise enough not to tell me so.) Jim cheated on Yvonne when we got together, so what would've stopped him from cheating on me with some cute young thing lured by the scent of cash?
What's the point of dreams? Are they Hell? Never knowing if your sleep will bring comfort or agony? During part of last night's Jimfest, my dad died. Followed mom by just a few months, as so often happens, and Jim took me to the funeral, and we talked long into the night about mortality. I wake up and dad's alive, or is he? I haven't called him yet today. If he did die, and I sent Jim a card, would BOTH my parents dying be enough for him to talk to me? Why doesn't he want to talk to me, anyway? Am I so threatening? What do I remind him of that's so painful? I hurt him, he hurt me, I thought that made us pretty much even. Is it the opposite of threatening, that I'm just so dull, that our time together meant so little that he's left with nothing to say?
I still love them all. Every person I ever said "I love you" to. I've fucked up a lot, but I got that part right. Whatever it is I loved about them, I still love that, no matter what else transpired. The church people missed the point - it shouldn't be "don't have sex before marriage", it should be "don't fall in love before marriage". That's the part that kills me. The fact that little chunks of my heart are out running around the country without me, and I don't know if the bit that I have left is enough. Bri deserves more than a piece of me, but what we deserve and what we get in life...
Clayton just got back in touch with me. Sort of. Matt and Billy are still not talking to me. Maggie and Aaron are still ghosts.
I keep hoping and not hoping that Jim will drop by the movie theater with his woman some evening just so I can see what he looks like at 50, and so I can see what she looks like, my replacement, who is closer to his age. Do they play tennis/raquetball/golf at the club together? Do they go deep sea fishing? Does it soothe his soul that she has grown children, so he now has pseudo-step-children of his own? He has a two-bedroom condo in Ft. Pierce that he rents by the month to British tourists. How many other properties? We used to fight about money. Now he doesn't seem to need to struggle. If I had listened to all those impassioned, pleading love letters begging me not to leave him, quite possibly I'd be living in my own home, with children I gave birth to, and calling myself Mrs. Toler. But then I would have missed out on James, and Bob, and Brian, part two. The last five years...how do you measure the worth of safety, of comfort, of knowing you're with someone you can trust? Everyone lies, yeah, I hear you, Dr. House, but Brian doesn't lie about the important things, and what's that worth? (Also, he's never found me too revolting to touch, as Jim did once and I can't forget. Or, at least, if Brian has felt that way, he was wise enough not to tell me so.) Jim cheated on Yvonne when we got together, so what would've stopped him from cheating on me with some cute young thing lured by the scent of cash?
What's the point of dreams? Are they Hell? Never knowing if your sleep will bring comfort or agony? During part of last night's Jimfest, my dad died. Followed mom by just a few months, as so often happens, and Jim took me to the funeral, and we talked long into the night about mortality. I wake up and dad's alive, or is he? I haven't called him yet today. If he did die, and I sent Jim a card, would BOTH my parents dying be enough for him to talk to me? Why doesn't he want to talk to me, anyway? Am I so threatening? What do I remind him of that's so painful? I hurt him, he hurt me, I thought that made us pretty much even. Is it the opposite of threatening, that I'm just so dull, that our time together meant so little that he's left with nothing to say?