2779 Ghosts of the past

Sunday, February 14, 2010

"Diplomacy is the art of saying 'Nice doggie' until you can find a rock."
-- Will Rogers --

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There's a male friend who likes me, and would like a more intimate relationship with me. But I have absolutely no inclination in that direction at all. None whatsoever. I've been thinking about why I can't even consider him.

On the plus side, he's cute, cheerful, social, and wealthy, and a good dependable friend. He certainly has a lot to offer and would treat me like a princess. On the negative side, he's a bit loud, a right-winger, and shaped like a brick.

I used to think that it was those negatives that held me back. But really, they're nothing I couldn't work with. Life with him would be pleasant.

I figured it out a few weeks ago.

When I was 21 years old, my apartment building was set on fire by a young woman who liked to watch fire engines. The fire was mainly in the ground-floor stationery store's storage room, directly under my apartment. I was 8 months pregnant at the time (married to Ex#1, who was in the army, in Germany), suffered smoke inhalation problems, and lost the baby the day after the fire.

When the fire department and the landlord finally let me back into the building, I found I just couldn't live there any more. I'd managed to save my cat and myself, but I'd lost my baby and the pair of lovebirds, and everything I owned was seriously smoke damaged. I found I couldn't sleep there. So I moved.

One of the more successful businessmen in town owned several apartment buildings, as well as car dealerships, etc. It was his office that I hid out in after that woman tried to kill me. I went to him to see if he had anything available. He had just installed a mobile home behind one of his buildings, which was ideal. I'd feel safer if I had control over my home, and direct access to outside.

He stopped by often to see how I was doing. Pretty soon it was almost every day. I didn't know quite how to handle him. He was 20 years older than I. At 22, 42 is ancient! Then the gifts started. Roses. A full liter of Jean Nate (the popular scent in those hippie days). A gold bracelet. I had to tell him it wasn't appropriate, and that I couldn't let him visit as he had been doing, and I certainly couldn't accept gifts.

So then he started turning up late evenings, almost every evening. I wouldn't open the door to him, so he'd sit on the steps outside with a bottle of whiskey, and talk. We'd talk through the screen door. And talk and talk and talk. I knew he needed to talk and had no one else to talk with, so I couldn't turn him away.

I knew he lived in (what in that neighborhood would be) a mansion on the golf course. I knew he was 20 years old than I. I knew he had no children. I asked around and found out he was married, but no one had seen his wife in fifteen years. She was rumored to be either an invalid or agoraphobic, had a live-in maid/nurse. At any rate, she never left the house, rarely left her bedroom, and seldom left her bed. When I asked him, he said she stayed in her room when he was home, and he was not allowed in her room. He seldom saw her. I didn't ask and he didn't say what was wrong with her, but I got the impression he'd never left her because they were Catholic and he expected her to die --- and had been expecting her to die "any day now" for fifteen years.

When the cold of winter came, he gradually stopped coming by, and then Ex#2 came home, and I moved away.

About five years later I went back to visit friends. We were in a tavern when he bustled in, bought a bottle from the bartender, and bustled out. He didn't see me. My friends laughed at him after he was gone. They said "There's probably a woman waiting in his car. He's been catting around the past few years. Don't know where he finds these women, maybe York or Lancaster. Real floozies. He's a joke."

I felt very sorry for him.

Anyway, I just recently realized that the reason I can't drum up any interest in my current friend might be because he reminds me so strongly of my old landlord. The age difference isn't there, but they look a lot alike, both play golf, both financially comfortable, both square-built, both get maudlin when they drink, both uncomfortable with sex, both lack confidence in sexual matters, both in sexless long-term relationships, both relate to me in similar ways.

My old admirer would be 85 this year. I wonder if he's still alive. If he is, I'll bet his wife is, too.
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