Mar
17
Stunted.
March 17, 2005 | |
DOCTOR: "What is your definition of love?"
PATIENT: "Elation, well being, selflessness, openness, passion, faith, giving, security, mutuality, trust, happiness, fulfillment, strength, togetherness, selflessness, partnership."
DOCTOR: "Thank you."
"What is the opposite of love?"
PATIENT: "Apathy, guardedness, coldness, closed-offness, unresponsiveness, numbness, emptiness, greed, conceit, distrust, uncertainty, fear, selfishness, insecurity,"
DOCTOR: "Thank You."
"What are you willing to give in love?"
PATIENT: "Ummmmm. …….Passion……………………………….Uh…………………………… hm ………………………..
my mind is drawing kind of drawing a blank right now. (smiles nervously) …………..uh…….
having a good time? ……………………. Ummmmmmm ………………….. hm.
DOCTOR: "Ok. Thank you."
"What are you willing to accept in love?"
PATIENT: "Passion………………………….Lightheartedness
…………………………uh………………hm…………………………. Fun? …………………………
……….ummmmmmm ……………… well ……………………………..Hm.
DOCTOR: "Thank you."
Stunted.
Stopped in my tracks by guilt looming over me like a pregnant stormcloud for the past 18 months.
And no matter how deep my desire to attract, seduce and pounce upon my next suitor–
the end result remained the same. My innocent attempts to begin again squandered by late nights waking still drunk and half naked beside virtual strangers, who within the next five minutes, would proceed to be kicked from my bed and directed towards the door leading out of my den of iniquity and even further out of my heart. A reminder to them and also myself, that the wanton trysts of two hours past meant just about as much to me, as the hopeful victim I’d sent packing no less than 22 hours before them.
I wasn’t always so coldhearted.
18 months prior I had The good girlfriend role down to perfection.
I was taken. Always. Never defined as Christina, but as Christina-and-(insert mate’s name here).
Most likely spotted arm in arm with my mate, my partner. lover and best friend, strolling down the single ridden streets of Manhattan. Our gaits matching seamlessly as we basked in the peaceful complacency of coupledom, heading to "our favorite" someplace. And these were happy times. Times when I conscientiously choose intimate conversation with my lover over tuning out to my latest partner–my ipod. Yeah I was normal then. I could define, give and accept love without grasping at straws for my definition for what indeed that erroneous term actually meant.
The end began on June 21st, a landmark day. It was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year.
Ironically the first day of summer was greeted by ominous skies foreshadowing of future torrential downpours.
It was on this day I got caught with another man in the bed my husband and I shared for the past 6 years.
And although the line of delineation through the 500 threads of Egyptian cotton had grown like an invisible fortress between us, we maintained a level of complacent respect between these silently understood boundaries.
It all ended with the click of a lock . Anticipated so many eves before. Envisioned between compromising positions with my precious partner in crime R. And we had practiced our stealth getaway within lust clouded rationalities. Envisioning over and over again– a half-hearted attempt to prepare for the inevitable.
But the tornado struck without warning. With my husband’s an early morning impromptu journey home to avoid LIE pre-hamptons gridlock, we were caught. Red handed. Pants down. And all of the imaginary getaway plans faded into the yesterdays of our criminal stolen moments back then labeled unrequited love. Now labeled adultery committed.
My eyes opened widely and my back sprang to 45 degrees like a scene from the Exorcist. I was frozen. Gripped.
The once innocent girlfriend, now possessed by a wicked demon who forced her to to commit unholy acts.
No, I thought, i did not just hear that. Another click, which meant, yes, Gold help me this nightmare is actually happening.
The internal voice warned: You are about to embark upon the journey that has no happy ending, for you have reached the point of no return. May God have mercy on your soul…
I flung my body from the bed and wrapped a sheet around my nakedness to meet my maker at in the hallway. Stopping him in his tracks to buy R. more time to get dressed and hurl himself out the window. We had talked about this . Considered so many different scenarios, but never did we consider the horrific realities of the aftermath had our plan of action gone awry. All logic goes out the window when you are in the thick of it. Adrenalin has this way of diluting reason and pulses through your body like a marathon runner. A fight or flight response.
Flight , at this point was not an option.
I made an excuse. I searched for that 430am logic spoken through all too natural intonation to produce a believable lie…I was pathetic.
My honed skill at sugarcoating the sour truth was lost in the countdown of our six years together shattering violently before us.
Ridiculous excuses flew out of my mouth that he almost believed, just buy some time, just a few more seconds could make the difference between getting caught and getting caught with a naked man in our bed struggling to pull up his jeans.
My husband looked at me with an unfamiliar glance. one reserved only for those he despised. For those who betrayed him.
Not at all the look he reserved for his loving wife that could do know wrong that could tell no lies, that would never dream in a million years to have another man in his bed. He checked the empty loft in which I mentioned I had been sleeping, as said "guest" was in the bedroom. And as he viewed the painful truth behind the perfectly made, unslept-in sheets– he shot me an even more unfamiliar look–hope.
As if he knew the truth, yet held onto this one shred of love and honor and cherish til death do us part before heading into the den of iniquity that would surely foreshadow the death of our bond…
And that is how the end began….
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