Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Dear Blue Eyes

I read a recent blog post on Sean Daly's Pop Life regarding a phone interview he had with Alanis Morissette. I was reminded of a song that so perfectly resonates with my own love life/lack thereof. It's from her cd titled, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie. The song is Unsent. It tells of the letters written to former lovers. I've never sat down and composed letters to the men who've passed through the gateway of my heart and head. More often, I've had the rare opportunity to express myself directly. My words to their ears....even if they were deaf to the sound of my disappointment.

Blue Eyes and I spent Thanksgiving together that November of '01. I was ecstatic to make a feast for the man who'd captured my interests. He arrived the Wednesday evening prior to Thanksgiving. He carried on how it was the best turkey dinner he'd ever eaten. He departed the Friday after the holiday. It was the only time he would ever cross the threshold of my sweet, little house on the highway in Gainesville, GA.

We continued to talk every night. He'd call me around 9:45 pm and we'd talk until 10:30 pm. Our talks consisted of everything under the sun and then some. One particular evening he told me to get up from my bed and look out the window. I did as he requested. The moon was bright and full. With a flash of romance he said he was staring at the same moon. With that, we'd always be connected. From that moment on, LeAnn Rimes' Can't Fight the Moonlight would make me think of him.

Because we lived a 5 hr drive from one another, our nightly conversations held a greater importance. I felt safe that we were building a new foundation. A sturdy one made of trust, understanding and communication.

I enjoyed going to Savannah and didn't mind making the drive. I'd take an extra long weekend in early December and another very long one after Christmas. For Christmas, Blue Eyes had gone to New York where his parents resided. He called me a few times and pleaded with me find a way to spend Christmas Day with him. Although he was with his family, he wasn't with his 2 small daughters. I couldn't go. I had my son with me. Blue Eyes understood and we made plans for the New Year's Eve to ring in 2002.

I realize now that I have failed to mention that he was a recently divorced father of two. I had broken my own rule about dating someone who hadn't been divorced longer than a year. I knew what possibilities were ahead, but I ignored the blatant red flags waving in front of my smitten eyes. I was fine with it (or so I thought). I was just riding the crazy train until derailment. I prayed that the love train would pick me up at the station and I'd finally have the prince I'd dreamed of...

Over the course of our short courtship, Blue Eyes expressed his curiosity about seeing me as a blonde. I kept my hair close to the natural shade of dark brown. However, I was a silly vixen out to please my man. I did what I always swore I'd never do: I bleached out my long, curly, brown locks. He was pleased and delighted. He knew I'd make sacrifices on his behalf. I knew I was hanging on to dear life.

On December 27 I ducked out of work early to make tracks for Savannah. I looked to the night sky and saw the bright moon giving me direction to the man I adored. Our song came on the radio . It was a sign that all would be well. For a moment I felt reassured that we had a destiny; a future.

I pulled into his drive way. Before I could put the car in park, he came bolting from the front door. He was either anxious or worried... he was both. He expected me to arrive sooner. Without a second to spare, he gave me one of those now patented kisses that made my teeth sweat. He swept me off the to kitchen where the light was brighter. He wanted to gaze upon the major changes I'd made for his liking. He loved it and his actions showed me just how much.

Prior to New Year's Eve, we just spent quality time together. New Year's Eve was an absolute blast. We'd had dinner at a restaurant on the river. We both dressed up for the occasion, but later went home to put on casual clothes so we could meet friends on River Street and watch the fireworks. The weather had changed from mild to downright freezing. I hadn't prepared for it and I had to borrow a coat from him. There's something so comforting in wearing a man's coat. I felt even more secure wrapped up in his leather jacket. We cuddled together while the fireworks shot off across the canal. It was magical.

The kiss at midnight was a kiss to end all kisses. It seemed to last an eternity. I wanted to make time stand still because I sensed that an end was near. Those red flags I had been ignoring were beginning to slap me in the face. For that evening, I pushed them away and only saw what I needed to see. The weather had turned cold and rainy. The roads and bridges were treacherous and travel was not advised. That bought me a couple more days. We talked about future weekends together. The ice melted and roads were passable. I had to return to work. I needed to be with my son. I soaked his shirt with tears of sadness. I didn't want to leave. I knew if I left, it would be the end of Blue Eyes and the Smitten Kitten. Once I backed out of his driveway, I would never see him again. He didn't have to say it. I knew it. None of the shared hopes and plans of the future would come to fruition. He spoke too often of his ex-wife. He seemed too fixated on women who were petite and blonde (like his ex-wife). I was his rebound. I was the woman I swore I'd never be.

As I pulled away from his home he stood in the driveway. His look was forlorn. He knew it, too. I cried as I drove away from the limits of Savannah.

Despite the three hour conversation we had that night, everything seemed to be turning sour. I sensed something wasn't right, but rather than address it directly, I pushed for commitment. I inquired about moving to Savannah to make a new life. He became distant and unclear about what he wanted. This man who claimed to fear nothing and had such confidence was now faltering. My worst fears were happening and I was losing my grip.

On one fateful Tuesday, January '02, I received a ridiculous instant message, "Our time has come and the end is here." He was breaking up with me online. In a little square box he informed me he'd met someone else and wanted to pursue that. I demanded he be a man and call me since he was clearly lacking in the cajones to drive to do it face to face.

My phone rang within seconds. The call was manic. I was sobbing and he was trying to be blunt and to the point. He'd turned cold. He declared that I wasn't good enough for him. He blurted out that he'd never be able to fall in love and marry a woman who's ass was as big as mine. I told him that I'd never love a man who was as BIG of an ass as he. The call that he expected to only take minutes turned into a marathon 3 hour talk. He admitted the words so lacking in compassion were expressed in an attempt to make me hate him enough to never speak to him again. This was the first relationship I'd had other than my marriage. I couldn't accept anything hateful he threw at me. The man I'd grown so fond of had to still be in there. My biggest mistake was NOT hating him and insisting we never speak again. I immediately changed my hair back to a more natural state. I made sure to tell him I was no longer the blonde bombshell. I was Marissa and swore to never change anything about myself in order to please a man.
We never had a break in our communication. He never stopped calling me or instant messaging me. I begged him to leave me alone and let me heal. He'd call to talk about the issues he was having with the flavor of the month. I had thrown myself head first into the dating pool. I eventually met a man who'd rid me of the painful thoughts of Blue Eyes.

Many years have now passed and Blue Eyes still makes his presence known. In fact, last year our conversations had increased and involved discussions of rekindling a fondness and love we were foolish to ignore. I was foolish to believe he could ever be honest with himself; let alone be forthright with me. He fell off the face of the Earth when I was seconds from confirming a flight to Savannah from Chicago. He never responded to my emails, texts or calls...until August 2007
Truly, my heart has healed, but it has become wiser. Some might refer to that as jaded. I'm far from that. My reality no longer involves the constant pursuit of love from the hairy knuckled persuasion. I go about life and keep an open mind about the burlier sex.

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