You know, I’ve written several times about how spring and fall make me want to get in contact with people that I knew from the past. And this spring was no different. When I was 19, I met a boy named Craig. Craig was / is gay – and I was, well, for lack of a better word, stupid. But this is not about rehashing all that old crap – suffice it say that many people get married and then get divorced and then get married again. I was a fag hag, lost the fag, and then got married. Really, it all equals the same.
I don’t know about other people, normal people. But for me, there was really always this part of me that felt dissatisfied or unresolved. Sure there was anger and bitterness to get through (some at him, some at me). But when that had been waded through, and faded, there was still a part of me that missed that time in my life. Does that make sense. Not so much that I missed him, but that I missed things that I used to do. And when you are codependent and obsessive with one person for 10 years, well that’s a big chunk of time.
For example, we used to play Nintendo, board games, read the same books and watch the same shows on television. There as a connection of similar interests there. Those are things that I really enjoy, and I have been patiently waiting for my children to grow (slyly buying board games and the like) so that when they were older, we could play together. But, it’s a long time to wait. And really, heigh-ho cherry-o isn’t what I had in mind when I was thinking of playing board games (or chutes and ladders, and definitely not candyland). And I suppose, if I were a normal person like everyone else, I’d probably have other friends who did those things and then that void would have been adequately filled. But I’ve not ever been much on having lots of friends or doing things with people on my free time. That’s not to say that I feel that Craig is the only person with whom to do those things – but he’s the person I associate with those activities.
And, if I’m to be perfectly honest, and uncensored, there’s a part of me that feels like making contact with Craig is this whole dirty little secret sort of thing. It would be like Jodi coming up and saying that she and Lance had started to correspond and be friends. And I’d look at her as if she had lost her fricking mind – what is she nuts? But then again, Mom and Dad are now friends – driving to the doctor together, sharing stroke stories, comparing frailties and ailments and abilities. And that only took them some 10 years or so to make the first steps (I’m comfortable in your presence) and the next 20, I can spend time with you on the holidays, to the present, really, a FFO – fine, but I’m taking my own car or I shall most likely kill someone before we reach our destination. So, there it is. I think that Craig and I will be friends again – maybe – at the very least he’ll be on my email list to forward silly things to – and on the other hand, we might hang out (which still feels a little weird in my head when I say it).
I can definitively say this – it does feel nice to not have the bitterness or anger. And it feels weird to give myself permission to be o.k. with that – You know what I mean, when you break up with someone and 3 weeks later, even though you don’t want to get back together, you still want to call – but you know if you do it could all go horribly wrong and that everyone will think that you are some weak willed ninny whose life if falling miserably apart – what a LOSER. I don’t want people to think that I’m that girl or that person. And piss on it if they do, I guess. It is what it is. And for those of you who are concerned about this new step --- rest assured that I still whole heartedly dislike Mrs. Lawler from 11th Street and hope that she, in all her incompetent glory, falls flat on her face – or should KARMA have a greater demise in store for her, then I would gladly watch that one as well. Of course that bitterness has only been resting for a year – and it’s most closely related to someone taking away a favorite toy – I loved my job and that hateful woman ruined it for me. But perhaps, I shall be inspired and become a nationally recognized teacher (ha ha – as if, I’m way to lazy to do all the work entailed – those teachers come into the building on weekends and stay late every day, and make an effort to talk to parents – I’m not there yet—and by the time that the boys are grown and gone, I will be too tired to go there – so mother of the year will have to do).
And now, I’m done with the rant rave and tentative exposure. We’ll just have to see what happens.
