I used to work with this guy for whom I cared quite a bit. And he said he was emotionally, physically, intellectually attracted to me – except he was gay. Needless to say, it was a toxic relationship for both of us. I felt the loss of that relationship much more acutely than I did the loss of my marriage.

He left my department just about a year ago, thank God. For the last three months we were co-workers, we couldn’t get through a meeting without a snotty, sometimes vicious, remark – and those were all conference calls, as he lived in another state. I hate to imagine what would have happened if we were in the same building. The day he gave his notice, I cried like I had never cried before – and I even knew he was going to quit. I cried for probably 20 out of 24 hours. I hope I never experience anything like that again.

The last time I saw him, all he wanted to talk about was my marriage. Had I filed for divorce? What did my ex get me for my birthday? Had we put our house on the market? How often did we talk? But, mind you, John wasn’t interested in me anymore (or so he said). He was so out-of-touch with his emotions … I can’t think of many people who were more closed off than he. He broke my heart, and for a long time I was angry with him. Now I just feel disgust, pity, disdain …

It wasn’t until I realized that I was in mourning for the man I thought John was instead of the man that he is that I started to heal. I’m able to easily change the subject when he comes up as part of a “Where are they now?” conversation.

But last week threw me for a loop. First, I was in a Hallmark store in Orlando and on display, prominently, was a book he bought for me. I have never seen this book anywhere else. I smiled wryly when I saw the display; knowing me, I probably even rolled my eyes. Then, I argued with a co-worker about shiraz and syrah wines. John introduced me to shiraz and even had to buy me a bottle of a $25 syrah to settle a bet. Anyway, I knew I was correct but this co-worker is a know-it-all and wouldn’t shut up. I knew if John had been there he would have told her to shut the f#$% up. As if that wasn’t enough, the trashy Harlequin Blaze romance book I brought along featured a main character whose fiancé revealed he was gay – or perhaps bisexual – yet was physically attracted to her and thought that she could “cure” him. I’m thinking there was one more coincidence but I can’t remember it right now.

So today I’m on my flight back home and turned on my beloved iPod to drown out the eight zillion children on board. I was listening to my beloved Matthew Good when “Running for Home” came on. This is the song that the title of my blog comes from. I played that CD for John many moons ago, and he remarked that “Running for Home,” the final song, was his favorite. I told him that “when we were liars, things were seamless” was one of my favorite lines from a song ever — not explaining, however, that it spoke to me b/c my then-husband and I were lying to each other and I knew that John was lying to me. Anyway, John mentioned that lyric the night he told me how he felt about me and ever since then I’ve associated the song with him.

The thought occurred to me that maybe all of these coincidences are for a reason. I haven’t talked to John since last October. After getting pissy about all of his questions about my personal life, I sent him a letter basically saying so, taking him to task for taking advantage of my vulnerability. I ended by suggesting that, if he was really was as conflicted about his life as he portrayed to me, he should seek counseling (I’ve done it myself, it works wonders). Not surprisingly, I never heard from him again. I never could figure out why my requests for him to be open about his life, to tell me about his partner (of more than two years!!!) was so distasteful that he would rather just not talk to me. I mean, I don’t think John loved me because I don’t think he could. Maybe he wanted to love me, maybe he thought I could “cure” him, maybe he thought I would make him “normal” … At the time it hurt like hell but now I can see the humor in being such a woman that I confirmed a man’s homosexuality.

Anyway, I’m thinking about sending him a short note (on my personalized notecards, of course). Well, okay, I already wrote one. First I described the ways he’s been on mind lately, then added, “Know that when I think of you now, it is as I hoped it would be – only pleasant memories remain. If/when I cross your mind, I hope you feel the same. … Take care of yourself.”

Will I mail it? I don’t know. I don’t know what I want … I don’t (really) want to hear from him – unless he’s going to tell me that losing me made him miserable, that he’s sorry for dragging me into his sorry-ass life, that he hasn’t been able to replace the friendship, acceptance and emotional support that I offered him.

Okay, I know what I want. I want him to have learned from our ordeal, to have changed, to have grown into a man who (a) accepts who he is, (b) realizes that who we love does not define our worth as people and (c) opens himself to all that is good in this world.

But I also want him to remember what he screwed up … I want him to remember how he felt about me and how I felt about him … I want him to remember that I refused to become another compartment in his compartmentalized life, that I demanded more from him and he cut me off rather than let me in.

I want him to explain why.

Damn it. It’s been a year. Why do these bits and pieces flare up? I’m sure he doesn’t think about me at all. I’m probably in his past – why can’t I put him in mine?

∗ Posted by Monique on 09.25.2005
∗ Uncategorized