Morning walks and bedroom talks, Oh, how I loved you then...

I am not sure why Andrea is back on my mind. We’ve had no contact outside of my emailed plea for prayers for my cousin, Michael a week or so ago, and there was certainly nothing in her response to suggest any interest in renewing our friendship; this is perhaps a blessing. I know in my heart I would always have yearned for more.

The story she ultimately told was that our romance was a product of “mutual need” at a very trying time in both of our lives. Her mother had become fatally ill within a month of our friendship becoming far more. She believed that my side of this need was founded on me quite unexpectedly becoming unemployed.

Her tale? Our love had never really been love but rather a byproduct of a simultaneous need for a caring soul to “lean on” during a horribly traumatic time that somehow continued well past its shelf-life. Few of our friends accepted her new truth, having witnessed and regularly commented on the obvious love between us. Even her therapist offered that she had never seen a couple more right for each other. What we had was real – rewritten and twisted history be damned! She'd forgotten that I was there, too.

She has taken up residence in my head for several weeks now. Our highlight reel runs continuously, bringing to mind those private and silly moments; those in-jokes and crazy names we’d laughingly and lovingly call each other; those stolen glances that she’d suddenly catch and meet with that perfect smile and those amazing eyes; the delightful intimacies that only lovers share. She would frequently appear on any given Saturday morning; beautifully disheveled in a tatty tee-shirt and jeans; her hair jammed into a ball cap. I’d tell her that she was my Lois Lane and I never found her lovelier than on those mornings.

She owned my heart. I never considered wanting it back.

With enduring thanks for all we shared,

Otto

Blog Song: Annie  – Johnnyswim 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bz_bUjPMAAM

“And where do we go from here? Which is the way that’s clear?”

BAM! She was there…I mean right in front of me...Right the f*ck in front of me! Thirty lost years became thirty seconds, and it seemed like…like the best of all that ever was between us suddenly cascaded in a near-orgasmic blast of overpowering white heat; and all those foolish concerns that separated us years ago became the dust they should have always been. Thirty years became a body-shaking need for so much more.

I don’t know if I attended the event hoping that “something” would happen or dreading the thought that something wouldn’t…I mean, I knew she’d be there – it was HER event after all; circumstances presented an “invitation” I would never, could never have refused. There truly was nowhere else I COULD be that day. She and her family have always meant the world to me…and good Lord, she was every bit as beautiful as she'd ever been. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I doubt she realized the number of times I looked over, just taking her in.

The passing years had been her friend. Her eyes now showed me a world I wished so desperately I’d been there to share…and smile lines I could only hope our history had some part in. We’d done more than our share of laughing, after all…that “hearty bray” of laughter I’d loved so much just exploding as it always had; like music I’d missed without realizing it. A laughing woman has always been my undoing…

The evening became one of clandestine conversation and a few (very few and entirely unexpected) stolen kisses - a connection that refused to be denied – as vital as breathing. We reminisced; recounting our shared experiences – with an unspoken regret that there were not more of them; of our lost or perhaps merely misplaced chance for love; of the obstacles removing the hope of any shared future. Ours is a relationship most consider “meant to be” but sadly one that all too likely may never find a way to flourish.

I have a vague recollection of crossing paths quite unexpectedly decades ago at some now forgotten location and giving her my phone number, asking that she call me (“We HAVE to get together”). It was clear we shared a mutual interest in exploring the possibilities of a more serious relationship. I visited her on the seacoast of Maine once and despite a “you can’t stay over” mandate, packed a change of clothes and a toothbrush. She later laughed that beautiful and booming laugh, telling me that that action was “very impressive”. We attended a concert or two together and spent quite a memorable night at my apartment; one that I don’t think was ever, or frankly could ever be matched. Nights with her were like that.

It’s difficult to recall what happened to foster our lengthy disconnection. It may have been as simple as a series of unfortunate missteps or miscommunications; an unforeseen consequence of poor timing; a cluster of unexpected circumstances that demanded our energy. Who can say? In my memory, it was always a relationship that stopped, rather than ended and therein lay the sadness. Suddenly, she was just….gone…

Reflectively,
Otto

Blog Song: Norah Jones: Come Away With Me

Please don't look my way, when you see me on the street. 
We will still be strangers when we meet...

03/09/18

Okay, so I’ve been looking at a few dating sites for  REDACTED PERIOD OF TIME  and based on personal observations would like to offer the ladies a few suggestions…

·    If your profile photo shows some big hairy arm wrapped around you, you may not get the response count you’re hoping for.

·    Posing with animals – ostriches, ferrets, llamas, camels, donkeys – I’ve seen one woman posing with a tiger – may not be your best idea. Guys may not want their first date to be at the local zoo…not enough Tarzans in the world for this many "Janes" and who knew it was possible for a giraffe to look embarrassed?

·    Walks on the beach? Sounds a bit too much like a Playmate interview circa 1972…and lying down in front of a fire? Maybe if what’s burning is your ex-husband’s car. Otherwise, it’s been done.

·    Snapchat filters? No…Unless you actually do have rainbows, flowers, birds, and/or musical notes in your hair…and the puppy/kitty snouts? No. Just…No.

·    Sunglasses in every photo? Not unless you’re Stevie Wonder…

·    I’ve seen a profile photo (more than one, actually) where the prospective date is in a wedding dress. Rushing things just a bit there, Ellie Mae, don’t you think?

·    What is the deal with the kayaks? Was that a gift for signing up? I’m going to guess it arrived with that copy of “The Notebook” you all seem to have.

·    Who told you THAT was a good picture? You know your friends were just being nice, right? And most of us really don’t need to see as much of the back of your phone as you keep showing us.

·    Please have someone else take your photo. There are too many up-your-nose and forehead shots and close-ups that only your dermatologist should see. And if you’re a football fields distance away from the camera…Hmmm?

·    Your photo is sideways (or sometimes upside-down). Did you not notice or should we assume this IS your typical position on a date? (This might be a qood thing. Who am I to judge?)

·    Duckfaces? Unless your name is “Donald”, “Daffy”, or “Daisy” you should rethink this…or maybe you’re hoping to date a duck…in which case, have at it. Again, who am I to judge? Though there are probably easier ways to fly south for the winter…

·    Breasts! Breasts. Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! Breasts! We KNOW you have them…breasts, that is, but unless you want them to be the only thing we’re looking at when we meet, maybe the girls aren’t ready for their close-up. There’s that whole “My face is up here” thing? If some guy in a bar gawked at your “features” as much as you’re showing them off in your photos, you’d slap his face and call the bouncer.

·    Comb your hair…Seriously. Was it really that windy, Dorothy? Hell, washing it could also be a plus…

·    While I’m at it, brush your teeth…or at least please put them in, Pumpkin.
(That's for everyone. I know a guy who looks like he hasn’t brushed his teeth since his First Communion)
Not attractive!

·    If you look like you should be swinging an axe and chasing unknowing teenagers through the woods while scary music plays, please reconsider whether dating websites are serving your social needs…

·    “Curvy” seems to mean that you can have a figure like Salma Hayek or a motor home.
What is that about? I'm not body-shaming, but rather looking for a more precise definition of the word. Whoops, my bad - EVERYONE is athletic. And again with the kayaks?

·    You’re “hoping to meet a man with a good sense of humor.” So THAT’s what that long line was for? Y’all are queuing up to date some broke-ass guy so long as he makes you laugh? Now, THAT is funny!

Always hopeful,

Otto

Song of the Day: Ladies of the World – Flight of the Conchords

12/27/2017

I hope tomorrow you find better things…

It’s the holiday season and depression is kicking my *ss. When I hit this seasonal psychological wall, I KNOW what I should be doing about it – leave curtains open to let natural light in, keep my prayer life strong, avoid isolation, take a vitamin D supplement (suggested by my sister), socialize with family/friends and pursue those things that would normally energize and uplift me. Sadly, few of those things are working. I’m trying like hell – going so far as to spend more time than usual in places like Toys R Us and my favorite comic and book stores, but…no buzz…not the slightest “positive mental hum” that used to accompany these field trips. That lift I so hoped for just didn’t happen. Even karaoke – an enjoyable pastime was more aggravating than enriching. Too many drunken, rowdy twentysomethings screaming at each other while bellowing songs.

I haven’t seen my son in nearly two months? I’ve sent 16 or so text messages without response. It’s become clear that he’s been pulled into issues that REDACTED and I are having. He and I have NEVER had any prior communication breakdown, other than when REDACTED refused to allow us to connect in past years. It seems he’s bought into REDACTED’s view that I’m “Dad Vader.” Puh-lease…

I know it doesn’t help that I’ve been tuned into mostly “dark” television shows. I’ve always enjoyed ensemble casts and character dynamics so after reading a recent article in Esquire, I thought I’d check out “Oz” (HBO On­Demand). I’m neck-deep into the final season (Alas, poor Augustus!) – a season even heavier than usual so I took a break to binge on “The Punisher” (Netflix). Then I had to catch up on “The Walking Dead”.

“Ten cc’s of ‘I Love Lucy’ STAT! Get this man an Elvis movie, NOW!”

Then there are the “shes” of my life. What can I say? In all honesty, I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten over my relationship with Andrea. Unexpected and truly unwanted endings take more time to recover from. I’ve been absolutely haunted by memories of Christmases past. Some part of me will always love you, Babe! As I said in my last post, we were perfect…until we weren’t.

More recently...I was dating, let’s call her “Liza.” If I’m being truthful, I don't know that I expected this one to have a long shelf-life, but Liza could be sweet, great fun to be around, talented (in a number of ways) but at the end of the day, my effort to ignore the “mysteries” of her social life outside of time I spent with her took too much of my energy. It became clear that we had different attitudes about honesty. Through a series of strange contrivances and unusual “plot devices” our “romance” proved sadly ill-fated. Fare thee well, Liza. I wish you nothing but continued success, Darlin’.

=======

February 23, 2018

That was months ago and with help; I’ve pulled out of my seasonal tailspin. I spoke with my Dad (nearly 86 years-old and possessor of wisdom beyond wisdom) who “gets” me. We talked quite a bit about depression and he helped me tremendously through his endless compassion and ability to simply understand me. That helped set the positive wheels in motion. Thanks, Dad!

On the down(ish) side, I exited a show I’d looked forward to being involved in – the one that rescued me from similar depression last year - due to a very odd song selection and a myriad of other reasons. The new friendships and prevailing camaraderie I’d so enjoyed last year was unfortunately not enough to offset my uneasy feelings about the show. I realized that there was little to gain by spending (significant) time doing something I simply wasn’t enjoying. I am happy to report that the show was very successful – something I’d continued to wish both friends and cause despite my self-imposed exodus. I’ll try again next year.

I auditioned for Voices of Hope – a group I’d sung with last fall – for a role in their production of “Working” - an audition I was later told by the Director she really enjoyed. It proved to be a case of too many people vying for too few a number of “speaking” roles. No matter. I am happy to be a part of a Voices of Hope production…until I learned I couldn’t be this time around. The one and only performance is on the same day as my nephew/god-son’s wedding. I will continue to be a member of this group, nonetheless.

I’m now involved in a production of “Jesus Christ Superstar” that I’m really enjoying and I was recently told I’m to be both a leper and a fabric merchant. How strange life is when you are elated upon hearing the words, “Otto, you’re a leper!” Both the show and the performers are incredible. We have a Jesus you can believe in and a Judas who will bring you to tears. I am SO happy to be part of this group and production. It feels like where I’m supposed to be.

Laughter is the best medicine -
except when treating that persistent rash...

Otto

Tune of the day: Getting Better - The Beatles

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind - for me it happens all the time...

A bit of a pity-party this time around.

I quite unexpectedly experienced a break-up with the “One” …the “Forever” …the “Stop looking, Stupid, you’ve found her!” If it sounds like I’m making light of this experience, be assured that I am not. I feel like I’m being field-dressed hourly.

Months later, I still find it extremely difficult to write about. Andrea had come to feel like the absolute lynchpin of my existence...everyone's "you're so perfect together." There was nothing we couldn’t talk about. Nothing we couldn’t manage. Nothing we couldn’t share. Nothing we couldn’t take on and conquer TOGETHER! Until, there was!

“Blindsided” doesn’t begin to cover it. E-mail – her chosen method for making her decision known - an ugly means of ending a once-loving relationship by any measure - has a way of muddying whatever her reasons may have been. And just for the record, the rom-com trope, “I don’t want to hurt you” is far less a balm than Andrea cares to realize. The content of what was essentially our last pre-break-up conversation focused on her adamant insistence that I was being “silly” for thinking there was anything wrong with our relationship - my sense of unease be damned! Honesty and a modicum of kindness would certainly have been far more welcome.

“Informed” opinions have been shared – through the family grapevine – as to causes but nothing brought even a glimmer of solace. Most reported rationalizations sounded like grotesque rewrites of our relationship reality and ignored completely the love, joy and peace we’d actually brought to each other’s lives…our history changed to fit a new storyline. But I digress…

Our daily routine began with a first-thing-in-the morning text - “Hello, Lovey” before I was even out of bed (if, in fact I awoke at my apartment and not hers). A brief exchange of text messages always commenced as Andrea got her kids out the door and I got ready for work. Once at the train station we’d chat until her train arrived, then an ongoing update of the train’s progress until she got to her stop. An hour or two later, there'd be an email or two detailing the overall mood she was managing as her workday unfolded, or as likely, a phone-call to exchange “I love you” messages and a “what time will you be over tonight?” along with the sometime request that I pick up one or both of her kids from whatever afterschool program they'd been a part of that day - a very familial connection despite later distortions. A similar cycle was part of our afternoon - during lunch breaks and the like - and I was never happier than when Andrea and I connected. We loved each other “TMD” (truly, madly, deeply). Love was a constant and laughter a frequent guest in our life together. What can I say? That's who we were.

In today’s world of ceaseless communication methods, the abrupt cessation of such contact is exponentially more painful than I'd ever imagined it could be. We are no longer connected via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, LinkedIn, Tumblr, Gmail, Hotmail, or Messenger. Hell, she even took me off her Netflix account. All of those pings, dings, and rings I’d so look forward to each day – just to know Andrea was there - halted far too suddenly, and I’m still doing my best to bounce back.

Like I said, a pity-party but this came to mind and I felt the need to share…

Can we talk?

Otto

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Tune of the day: “Hallelujah” – the Jeff Buckley version - for you, Andrea!