It has come to pass that at times, I'm reminded that I'm no longer a teenager or a very young adult. I have no aches or pains. My health is relatively very good. My yearly physicals indicate so. I certainly do not feel old but, I do feel a sense of refinement. A sense that I know better. Perhaps, I've matured to own a sense that I am immune to some of the short-comings of youth.With some of this "refinement" of mine, however, snobbishness and cynicism seem to exude naturally from me. While neither of these two qualities are a virtue, a welcome byproduct of this "refinement" is confidence. I am very secure with myself.
I was in my kitchen watching "The News Hour With Jim Lehrer" some time ago. I was enjoying a tall glass of red table wine on ice and watching Wifey figuratively dance about as she prepared a dinner meal while "News Hour" came on. It was unusual for me to be there at that time since the Tivo had displayed a prompt before the program began whether it was OK to change the channel to record a re-run of "According To Jim". Wifey not only thinks I look like Jim Belushi's character but, feels that I also can act like him at times. I figure he's an adequate substitute when I'm not around. I asked if it was OK to not record the “Jim” show and she was fine about it.
Something about a story on the program prompted Wifey to ask me, how it is that something being reported on is the way that it is. The subject were the soaring energy prices and its effects. All of a sudden, I began to lecture as if I was some university professor. I explained to her about some of the not so very obvious forces that are inflating these prices and why. I made many points that influence incentives and speculation. As I was winding down this two or so minute sermon, I punctuated its end with: ".....but one wouldn't pick-up any of this when one prefers to watch re-runs of four year-old-programs with laugh tracks that are supposed to prompt you when to laugh".
Refinement and confidence brought me celibacy that night.
Some weeks later, some of the points I had mentioned about emerging China and India and capacities, were brought up on TV somewhere and Wifey said something to the effect as to how I had said all that before. She had forgotten about my punctuation but, I did add that it’s important to keep the Suburban’s tank full at all times. I asked her to top the beast off every other day or after much driving. Prices recently are too volatile and fluid so as to not experience sticker shock at the gas station if the tank is allowed to run low. The capacity of her car’s gas tank is symbolically the amount of an international barrel unit of crude.
When I was a fledgling young adult, I never thought about things like that. Forty-something MBA homemaking moms don’t either. Trust me. I know. She's not the only one.
Back when I was eighteen and I had graduated from high school, the farthest thing from my mind were high school reunions. I'll have my triple-X coming around this year. It's slated for Labor Day weekend.
From my vantage point, there are two schools of people regarding high school reunions. You either go to them or would have wanted to go to them, or you never go to them and never have considered going to one. There are the confident ones and the non-confident ones. The ones who have out-grown their issues and those who have not. I'm one of those dorks that went to ten and twenty. Right now, I'm not in the mood for thirty. That makes me wonder whether I’ve realized if there is now a third type: the kind that are not-in-the-mood type.
About six months ago, through my only remaining friend from high school, I was asked and urged to register over at Classmates.com to be abreast about any developments regarding my class' plans for a reunion. I sat on it for quite some time. So, about two months ago, I went ahead and did register. Some curious things happened.
Two people who I haven't thought of -- for ten years -- wrote warmly as if we've been friends for a long time. One boorishly bragged about his where-with-all as if I would find some new respect for him. The other wrote about his family as if I've been inquiring or interested about them over the years. Did I mention that I haven't even thought about these two in ten years? They've not even crossed my mind. I wrote both short polite replies.
Another gal wrote and insisted that I provide her with all my particulars, and that getting in touch with her would be to my benefit. Blah, blah, blah and more blah. Why? Because she's a fuckin' real estate dead ender in Arizona.
If you're a home real estate sales professional in Arizona, Nevada, California or Florida these days, you are a desperate person trying to pay your bills. Not to disparage home real estate agents but, many do that as a job because some small realty companies will allow a wide range of types to represent them solely on the basis of pleasant appearances. Real estate licenses in those states are handed out like napkins at a barbie. There are people selling real estate out there and their number in these markets are only less saturated than cab drivers.
It has been my experience that some men who know how to tie a Windsor knot and women who fixate and primp ceaselessly (especially from the neck up), if for no other qualifications, end up selling home real estate.
This realtor gal, who I went to high school with, is recently divorced and likely is not qualified to do much else. According to her proud bio, she did take a few courses at a local community college extension campus and was able to get her license through that brief multi-week education.
She started with a file attachment's full-frontal attack. How it's important to start considering retirement and a property purchase back in my old childhood stomping grounds. Yeah right. Don't ask me about my situation, or ask about me, just send the fucking Spam honey. How fucking un-couth and primitive can a realtor's sales skills be? In a bad economy and in certain markets, it is very obvious that they can be allowed to be very bad.
But, having registered at Classmates.com caused something that I would have never thought could have happened. What has happened has consumed many of my thoughts since mid-May. The gal who I had a sizzling flame with after I graduated college, and who I wrote about early in this blog's life, sent a communiqué through Classmates.
I saw "Her" married name in the "from" field and nothing clicked. Then, I quickly cast my gaze on the "subject" field line and "Her" maiden name was there.
It immediately triggered a flushing sensation that quickly ran through my body. I had a sense I was looking at my computer screen with tunnel vision. I felt my chest swell and I was warm and bothered. Honestly, I felt I was getting aroused. I temporarily forgot everything about being married for twenty years, having known Wifey for twenty-four or that I have two beautiful children. All, as my mind raced and flashed about how it used to be with "Her".
It took me a few moments to gather my senses and have this very primitive and visceral reaction subside. I stared at both of "Her" names for about thirty seconds and then I took a bite from the apple. Yep. I double-clicked "Her".
That day was May 16th. Since then, we've exchanged about three or four e-mails practically every day. Although she grew up in Salt Lake City and I in Southern Arizona, it never occurred to me to ever check the high school that I remember she attended, to see if she was registered so as to find out about "Her". It did to "Her". She told me that since the early part of the year, she would periodically check on my high school's class to see if I had registered. She knew that my thirtieth would occur this year.
We've caught up on so much since I last heard of "Her". Actually, we've caught up excessively and perhaps have been too brutally candid with each other over e-mail. She has four kids. Junior in college down to an eighth grader. She married a construction contractor who runs his own small construction company. Unfortunately for them, they live in Southern California's Inland Empire where the construction of new homes has hit a bear depression. It was good for a long time and it's now a one-eighty for them.
Needless to say, these tough times have taken a toll on their family's livelihood and perhaps emotional health. And, I think that I've been serving as a de-facto sounding board these last seven or so weeks. After the initial getting reacquainted phase of our e-mail reconnection, the to-and-fro between us has slowly evolved into a deeply personal catharsis for "Her". For me it's been a stunning experience.
She's told me things about "Her" marriage, "Her" husband and about "Her"self that I feel are the type of things one would reserve for a doctor, a psychiatrist and/or a clergyman. I don't know what to think about these exchanges. Some of the more poignant things that she's been forward with are of such a type that, I cannot imagine myself ever feeling comfortable to ever speak about them to anyone. Not even a psychiatrist. I don't think so. Some of the stuff she's intimated to me, personally, I would have taken to my grave.
I let "Her" purge and I give "Her" advice. She then thanks me about how good I've made "Her" feel and how she's carried that advice forward.
Since May 16th, e-mail evolved to Yahoo messenger and much of this intimacy has been thriving in this chat-style environment. That was the case until last Thursday.
That’s when she surprised the shit out of me and called me at work. We were on the phone for about three hours. She picked a good day to do this since it was a very slow day being it was the eve of the holiday and everyone wanted to start their holiday early. I was working in a ghost town environment anyways.
But, after a while during this phone call, I became somewhat alarmed. Just as I have done off of "Her", she obviously gleaned quite a lot off me through these weeks. Stuff that would include some of my day-to-day mundanities.
After we were on the phone for a while, sometime after the second hour, she began to mention that she has a close friend who lives in New Jersey and who she went to college with at U of U. That she's a friend who over the years has asked "Her" to come over to visit sometime. This is when I felt another blood rush. She then said that she knows Wifey will be leaving to Arizona next week and whether it would be a good idea if she finally took up "Her" friend's long time overtures to visit.
A couple of weeks ago, I told "Her" about how Wifey and the Savages head to Arizona for a good chunk of the summer every year. When I mentioned this to "Her", it never ever would have occurred to me that she would see that as an opportunistic window.
Then she said something that has had me profoundly conflicted. She said that we may never have a better chance to allow myself to feel that I'm twenty-two and to allow "Her" self to feel like she's nineteen again. There was no misunderstanding the intent. I asked “Her” whether what she just stated meant we would be re-kindling something that we both had cast squarely aside twenty-four long years ago.
She added, “I’ve had this little candle burning in my soul for you for many years, darling…. I thirst you mucho”.
Since last Thursday, I haven't been able to think straight. Wifey is leaving soon and I am feeling very vulnerable right now.
I haven’t told a soul about any of this except this blog.
Right now, I have some issues. I don’t feel very refined or very confident if this shiny red apple were to be put in front of me.
She’s waiting for "Her" answer.
http://rahrahrah.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-power-walked-on-nordictrack-late.html
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posted by JerryNJ @ 1:07 PM
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