There are a million things I’d like to write here. This is first. I got a little close to a new someone. Chicky Babe, her name is. It isn’t of course, but pratt/wannabe that I am, I called her that and it stuck. It could be that it’s useful to have a pseudonyms for my girlfriends because otherwise how could I blog about my relationships with them without violating their privacy. You know, Jane’s dead… and our relationship was pretty public anyway, by the time that she died. I’ve been pretty conscious of her privacy notwithstanding all that. But any new one, even Jane at that early stage of our relationship referred to in my last post, would not exactly be WWW material.
Course you (and maybe Chicky Babe) would have noticed my use of “girlfriends”. Maybe you think I’m doing them concurrently, or even wilfully serially. Well, I tried in parallel, in the most modest way and I don’t like it. Me: one at a time, earlier rather than later. But who really knows what (or how many) will happen? For all my investigations into the intricacies of relationships it certainly ain’t me. I wouldn’t have a bloody clue, three quarters of the time.
OK, as I said CB (I like her) and I got a little close. Don’t get carried away here. A little, right? Try telling my unconscious that, tho. First sign of a little niceness, it went straight into fundemental dilemma mode. Back in the womb, simultaneously united with god and cornered by a predator. Least that’s what it felt like. Sure, I was a little connected. Comes a point in hanging out and having a nice time together, it just isn’t a matter for decision-making any more. It just is.
And so it was. Fear, sadness, old friends, bastards, bowled right in. For a day I dragged my arse, leaning into it like a bitch to get anywhere. Trying to shake it off. Why do I have to be such a mess? I knew what the fear was about but where was all that sadness from? Felt like a fat bladder full of tears. But a tied up tight one, just bulging around inside me.
At about four o’clock, I was expecting a call from CB. The phone rang “is that Mr Spears?”. “No”. “Is that the household of Jane Spears and Mr Spears?”. “Who’s speaking please?”. “It’s Rebecca from Circle Research” (maybe I got the company name wrong – it doesn’t matter). “Rebecca, Jane died…” we ended our conversation. As my finger closed on the “off” button on the phone, I arched back and then convulsed into an explosive expulsion of tears. It was like, not being swept along by but being the cause of, or being an actual dam-burst and flash flood. I don’t think I have ever shed so many tears in such a short time. It was Jane, of course.
Thank you, Rebecca, I thought, when the storm had blown itself out. I felt almost weightless compared with how I had before. I was even able to be sociable when I met up with CBabe for a burst round the park on our bikes and then a movie (Match Point – i hated it), some dinner and a bit of sunday nite tourist shopping.
I started writing this a few days ago. At the time, my favourite song in the universe was “King Straggler’s” Good Man (you can download it from the SXSW site). King Straggler features John Hawkes of Deadwood (I so have to review that) and Me and You fame.
CB (I really want to use her real name now) and I had dinner and sat around listening to music on Tuesday night. Some email during the days. We met up on Wednesday night and it was lovely again. We wrote lists of things we’d like each other to do for us. We played. We talked. We were gentle and kind with each other. We met once more, for the last time, on Friday night. It’s not a particularly long story but it’s our story, for here purposes. It makes sense to me but damn it hurts. I knew I was vulnerable to being hurt but then slam. It’s not as if this was a great love. We both knew its limitations. But it was so nice, such lovely easy gentle fun. I got what I wanted. To feel some connection with someone. To have some fun. Why did it only have to be a few weeks, tho? And why did I have to feel all that pain last weekend and why do I have to feel all this pain now and when will it stop? I don’t want to ache and cry all the time. I just want to have a normal life with normal nice things and some one to share them with.
Damn, I miss you, Chicky Babe. I can’t tell you 100% that these tears are about you and not about Jane or about me and just wanting to have a nice time. I can tell you that I loved playing with you and that I know about your strength, gentleness and integrity. And I know that you have seen some glimpses of me and also of what might be possible between us. This is probably the right thing to be doing. I wouldn’t know. What I do know is that I am glad that with you, I went with what felt right. Gut guide, take me forward to more fun, more delight and more (frgn) pain.