Relationship Revelation

It was a bit windy as Hockey Boy and I sat waiting for Tanya Tucker to finish singing so that the fireworks could start at Fort Monroe. There were small children running amok with blinkie, battery-operated dolphin & starfish necklaces and people chatting all around us so it made having a conversation a bit hard at times.

Me: I wish I had a blinkie thing.
HB: I was gonna bring one.
Me: Really? You have a blinkie thing?
HB: Oh. No, I thought you said "blanket".

And while the fireworks exploded overhead, ladies and gentlemen, I realized that I finally had a summary of my relationship with this boy.... I am a blinkie thing and he is a blanket.

I am frivolous and scattered. He is focused and organized.

I am a Type Q to his Type A personality.

I can name all the members of the Rolling Stones. He has actually met them and can still only remember Mick What's-his-name.

He knows the five mother sauces and I don't even know what a mother sauce is, let alone possess the ability to name all five (and are there father sauces, I wonder?)

He folds clothes as they come out of the warm dryer. I wear the wrinkled clothes thinking it will be dark where I'm going...who will notice? And even if they do, who would be rude enough to tell me i looked like I slept in my outfit?

He washes his/my/my friend's car... regularly. I have empty McD bags stuffed in between my back seats that are older than my dog.

He is Abercrombie & Fitch. I am Allcrumbly & Bitch.

He watches sports on a wide screen TV with 3 different remotes and a strict sequence of button pushing that makes sense only to someone who understands how to launch the space shuttle. I have been known to start a good book while I waited for reinforcements when I couldn't figure out how to get the blue screen that says LINE 1 to turn into a TV show. I am not sure what LINE 1 is (besides blue) or if I have (or need) more LINES.

He is single-handedly keeping alive the posies that my dad planted for me. I forget to dust the plastic decorative tree in the living room.

Sure... we have a lot in common as well...like...for example...don’t rush me....ah, he likes to cook FOOD and I like to eat FOOD...so we have going for us. And the dog likes us both though he has been known to play favorite depending on which of us has the treats. And, of course, there are a few things that we both enjoy that I would mention if I didn't know that my daughter AND my mother read my blog.

So how have we ended up together? Easy... as he reached for my hand during the fireworks finale... I realized that even a blanket kinda boy needs a little blinkie thing once in awhile.

It's not lost really....

I have been very fortunate to have loved and been loved by some pretty amazing men in my life. From my first "real" boyfriend, Steve, in high school (though I could go all the way back to the first boy who was smart enough to buy me jewelry - Scott Berry, 5th grade) to my first and last husband, Michael, to the most recent of my beaus (he knows who he is). They are all men that I still love -- I dont still SPEAK to all of them, but for me, I guess once I love you -- you are stuck with me.

I am, however, currently in between amazing men. (Not as in a fun sandwich kind of way...just currently unattached... it's just a dry spell!) I have been divorced for over 4 years now (M has a great girlfriend now and may end up moving to PARIS!) and split from my last "serious" boyfriend, D, almost 2 years ago (he is getting married soon -- third times a charm, my friend! I wish you the best). I have fallen in love since then but had the misfortune of picking a soul more restless than myself who can not give me his heart - no matter how often I ask him and no matter what lingerie I am wearing at the time.

In my current solitude, I find myself reflecting on lost loves - and the same face keeps coming back to me. More than a lost love. A lost life full of coulda shoulda wouldas. A series of bad timing wrapped in difficult choices. We have never fully disconnected. That was never an option. The timing is still bad. The yearning was/is physical...emotional...spiritual...and, in the end, still swirling in inaccessability. We have become good at being tragic but I would hate to think we are defined by that. I once held out my hand and he gave me his heart. I should have held on to it better. My carelessness was unforgivable and yet he forgave me. I cannot think of him as a "lost love"....he has simply been misplaced for such a very long time.