Dating, men and relationships are like the Voyage of the Starship Enterprise. My five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where Jennifer has never gone before....
After a 13-year hiatus from all romantic connections, I decided it was time to find a boyfriend. A friend was involved in the internet dating scene and, after long discussions, I joined a well-advertised site, paid my $30 and fully expected that, after a bit of shopping, I'd have my boyfriend in a couple of weeks. I'd never had a problem finding a boyfriend in my teens and twenties; indeed, the streets, bars and parties teemed with cool-men-who-dug-on-Jen, so imagine my dismay as the weeks turned to months and the months to years as I plumbed the internet, looking for a mutual digging-on-each-other, a dude who could hang out with me, and with whom I could really groove.
I've developed all sorts of theories over the years on why I sit this morning on my red couch, with the shower silent, a sink clean of beard-shavings, a single indentation in my mattress and the only unmatching socks being ladies, size 7-10. There are no boxers—crotch up—on my bedroom floor, no Mitchum deodorant in the medicine cabinet, no size-eleven boot-prints on my kitchen floor. The theories on this are varied, on a continuum between Personal Responsibility and Circumstances Beyond My Control, and I could write pages on each, but as John—a weird combination of Garrison Keillor's upstanding Lutheran and a sociopath and my first internet heartbreak—used to say: It is what it is.
I'm starting a new chapter in my life: I'm actively searching out women as friends, weaning myself off the internet as a primary meeting place. But today I'd like to pay homage to the men to whom I gave a piece of my heart, and who—step by painful step—helped me gain personal insight.
Esteban, you gave me Mexico and a taste of what it would be like to live for the day, simply and well. You've moved forward, dropping off the radar, but I will always remember Baton Rouge and Nayarit.
Tony of the chocolate skin and adorable dread-locks. Our separate histories of drugs, crime and prison are strikingly similar, as is our rise out of the gutter. You were loyal to your program, your family, your friends and new life, but you just weren't able to extend that loyalty to your women. You gave me continued hope for all others with our extreme past, showing me I'm not the only one.
Roger, your blogs jumped off the page into my heart; smart, funny, irreverent with a dash of wistful sadness. We talked via internet and phone for four years, but you were never able or willing to take it to a face-to-face meeting. We held on longer than was healthy, finally pulling the plug before the New Year. A regular beer-drinker, you helped me to live in the gray; to not immediately label or discard men who drink normally. You also showed me how tenuous internet friendships are. Thanks for the blog-title.
Brad of the gimme-cap, pick-up truck and impossibly long arms and legs that twined around me, holding me tight in the night. You are a drinker and pot smoker and taught me to beware of men whose habits are too familiar, too reminiscent of the bad old days. You also, more than any of them, taught me that life does go on.
Dwight, rhythm-master, professional musician; we missed each other, twice, both going different directions at different times. You showed me what a small world this really is and that coincidence does not equal fate. You also showed me the value of “wiggle-room,” and that I can still be too black-and-white.
Altogether you showed me that broken hearts mend, that life does go on, and it is good.
Finally, I'd like to mention new friends in my life, women not met on the internet and whom, I suspect, will teach me more about myself.
Yvon my classmate. Gentle, calm, kind, with the heart of an adventuress.
Jan, met through my son. Passionate about children and animals and always willing to “do something” with me at the drop of a hat.
Catya, sparkling with intelligence and creativity, and who is oddly familiar, striking distant chords of friendships from my childhood.
Jacq, another gift handed me by my son. We haven't hung out yet (tomorrow!), but I have pleasant, low-key expectations of long conversations and laughter.
My new co-workers: Rachels G and K; Helen; Lisa and Marie. All of you so smart, supportive and caring; I see loads of potential for future girl-talks and get-togethers.
Old co-workers: Jenni; Jessica and Sara. Young, ambitious and kind; you will soon surpass me in skill and knowledge—of this I have no doubt.
I sit on my red couch, finishing a chapter in my life, eager to start the next: my five year voyage has ended, the Enterprise is docked, and I've learned as much as is possible on that trip, on that ship. Time to move on, to focus on friendship, not romance, and on new life-lessons and adventures.
Woot!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
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