THE BEGINNING
The Summer of 1999, which was an experiment in "how hard, how fast, how intense", was my true adolescence. I pounded life with body butter, brown skin and started to really learn who NSR really was. I was sharply out of a chaotic and dangerous three year relationship. In those early years, I was notorious for being able to make a person feel as unimportant as a leap year. My insecurities were masked by a sharp tongue and fast brain (yes bitches, things have changed). I say this to preface what happened with Mr. P.
Mr. P - The subject of this post.
The bars had closed and I'd met Mr. P. on the Rehoboth Beach Sidewalk. He was a year younger than I, same height, and in looking back - my ideal physical mate. We walked on the Boardwalk, drunkenly, and held hands. Mist came off the ocean and the quiet of a beach town was permeating our cells.
As I got to know more of him it became clear he was struggling emotionally. I could tell. I'm sure when I started to witness that, I internalized it and started to get protective of myself (knowing how I was back then). I asked rather abruptly what was going on? and out it came. He was going thru some very difficult things. And that version of Nathan wasn't dealing with that kind of thing - empathy wasn't one of my greater talents.
Fast forward to the next day. I'm laying on the beach all by myself, early in the morning. I was really really really into journal writing and The Tao of Pooh back then, so I'm sure that's what I was doing. I began to hear three people talking. One of them saying how much of a "fucking asshole" this guy from last night was. He went on to say how rude and totally disrespectful the dude was. Some other choice words followed. I looked over and it was Mr P. He was talking about me, unaware that I was right next to him. I very purposefully stood up, "Good Morning Mr. P," and gathered my belongings.
THE MIDDLE
Every year, Kevin and I would go to Provincetown, MA with our dear friends Bob and Dave. We would drive up with our dogs and spend a week in paradise. I think each of us defined that paradise differently each year we went. This year, in August 2010, my definition of that paradise was also a metaphor for fear and anxiety like I'd never known. Two days into it my mother telephoned to tell me that she had breast cancer, I got the call while I was at Cafe Heaven. Prior to that call I'd wanted to buy engagement rings while we were there in PTOWN. Kinda of like when straight folks want to have a baby to save their marriage, the ring gesture was in that same vein. But it was clear, if either Kevin or I could find a way out, be brave enough to end our 10 years together, we were going to do it.
In any event, that week turned very quickly into a week of alcoholic stupors, abuse and cheating. It was our own personal hell. My drinking was off the hook. Kevin's lack of concern for anyone but himself was as evident as the tattoo "me me me" affixed to his forehead. One of the last days there Kevin texted me from Tea Dance. The problem was that the text was not meant for me, it was meant for the kid he'd been fucking all week long without me knowing. And the text was about me.
Later that night I was at the A house, standing outside just taking it all in. I looked at the guy standing next to me. Really ? No fucking shit. WOW.
It was Mr. P. I can't explain the electricity that went through my body at that time. FIRE. We were 10 years older...life had taken us through so many rings of fire but neither of us looked burned. We talked and I smiled hard. It didn't last long because my friends showed up, and well....so did Kevin. I remember looking at him - Mr. P, in his eyes, wondering.....what if? Do you forgive me? I didn't mean to be insensitive at the time, I just didn't know myself.
Kevin and I broke up not soon after we got back from that week in Paradise. Not soon after, I placed a Missed Connections ad for Mr. P in Boston. I never heard a squeak and he was cataloged into that special place for would-be Princes.
THE NOW
At 7 am this morning, I woke up in Boston..............next to Mr. P.
The story itself is one of romance untold. After all this time, we find one another......16 years in the making. It should end happily ever after. For the love of God, it's a fucking Nicholas Sparks novel.
I was in Boston for a work conference of sorts this past weekend. Fate took hold and we began to talk to each other without knowing who each of us was......I finally put it together and realized this was him. This man I'd carried this strange flame for. We spent Saturday night together, cuddled on his couch, tangled in each other. Woke up Sunday on the left side of his bed, with sun cracking thru. A lot of talking, laughing and texture happened. Also present was the ominous fact that despite the serendipity of it all, the barriers for us are too great. Distance and his drive to further his own business make a predictable ending for the breathe of life that I felt. He talked about the walls that go up when matters of the heart might pierce into him, about being too emotional/vulnerable without those walls and that someway, in us meeting again, those walls were taking formation. I talked about realizing that I want to find my cowboy, and breaking down whatever walls I've constructed.
To say that something bigger than either of us draws us to one another is a little too obvious. I can't pretend to know how he truly feels about me at this point, but I can tell you, I left Boston this morning with a very heavy heart and a relevant dose of loss. He looked at me as I got in my car and said "Don't be sad Nathan". As Boston, and P, became a speck in my rear view mirror I put on Florence + the Machine's "Between Two Lungs" and let it flow. (a small victory for me was waiting till I drove away to let the first tear fall:)
I realized many a thing on my drive back to NYC. It's been far too long since I've felt warmth on my skin that had the power of all the armies of the world stoking that fire. I've been living in this nether world of numb. I laid awake in his bed last night, at times watching his skin and feeling so at odds. Here I was, with this man who made me feel things I'd long since forgotten, yet I couldn't enjoy it because of it's limitedness. Because I wanted it all.
The way it feels, all safe and sound.
I'll find it.
It'll fit.
I can't NOT have that. Mr. P, me with all my heart strings dangling..........it woke me up again. Although he is once again tucked away into his unforeseen spot, the lesson has not faded. Nor has that drug like feeling.
He just texted me. "How was your drive?"
After 16 years Philip....the drive, the drive was exhausting.