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Love and Tears – The Difference Between Fantasy and Reality

I left you hanging with the preparations to travel to JoAnne’s and what it felt like. I took the train to the City. It didn’t take more than about 90 minutes to get there. I had to transfer to the Metro and take one of those colored lines out to her particular part of suburbia. She had given me her cell phone number (just in case she wasn’t at the station when I got there). She wasn’t.

I knew she would be waiting… but she wasn’t. So, I called. And the number didn’t work. Then I remembered, something on the news… you’ve got to dial all ten numbers — with the area code–because of some screw up with the phone numbers and the sheer number of people in this part of town.

And she answered on the second ring.

Oh my God. I caught my breath. This was really happening. She was telling me that she was right around the corner from me and would be there in just a few… And I saw her car… and she was talking on the phone… to me… I hung up, walked over to the street and was overwhelmed with wonder at seeing her there. This was going to be a weekend to remember for a long time to come.

How marvelous her lips tasted. She has a wonderful, distinctive taste. It’s ‘hers.’ Nobody else’s.

On the way to her house, we stopped at a bona-fide fish market and she bought tuna steaks and Spiced, Peel-n-eat shrimp. She spent an obscene amount of money on dinner and a snack. She had some other groceries to carry in, so I got those with my suitcase.

Three glasses of Champagne (left behind by an ex-boyfriend) later, her room mate showed up. The three of us had an amicable conversation. The roomie was repainting her suite. She and Joanne share a house with two master bedroom suites. It’s probably what every single woman would like to have.

So, roomie went upstairs while Joanne and I went to her downstairs den. We sat and talked about ‘things’ for about ten minutes… and then mutually decided that I should move from the chair to the couch next to her. Good idea.

And we were soon teenagers again. Two hours (and a little clothing) later, her room mate was calling down to us that HER date was here, and we should get ready to see the movie.

Oh… we were going to the movies? Okay… Message In a Bottle? Okay… and Chinese afterwards? Fine. And SHE was paying, as well? Whatever… She was insistant that I keep my money in my pocket. She had just gone through a divorce and knew how difficult it really is to hide money from your spouse (so she didn’t want me to spend it frivolously).

The movie was a tear jerker… dinner was kind of anticlimactic. We kept looking at each other… knowing that Chinese had nothing to do with what we wanted at that particular moment in time.

And when we went home, we went straight upstairs… and turned into a couple of wine drinking, body oil rubbing teenagers again until four thirty in the morning. And, she has a little kinky thing about leaving a light or two on… and leaving the windowshade up about six inches… just to give the neighbor (who has a telescope) a thrill now and then. I found that particularly strange and exciting.

Sunday just sort of flowed by gently, calmly… we went out to some antique shops. She bought a couple of rings (one of them she called her ‘divorce’ ring.)

I was falling in love with Joanne… all over again. My wife at home didn’t exist. Joanne and I were one… at last.

And we had a wonderful meal Sunday evening (she’s a gourmet cook and trained Master Chef). Doing the dishes was incredibly romantic. And we were back in bed by 8… turning into wanton teenagers again. This time we kept it up until 3. I had completely fallen for her again. She was the woman of my dreams.

She cared for me. She was kind to me. She was an amazing lover… just amazing. Joanne knows things that should be (and probably are in some parts of the world) illegal.

But, it started on Monday morning.

She called her office and put the message on her voice mail that she’d be “unavailable today.” She didn’t want to take a shower together… like we had the morning before. She seemed occupied… distant… strange.

She took me out for breakfast and we went to a gallery and looked at some incredible work from Austrailia… but she wasn’t really there. She was somewhere… else.

It was already starting to hurt.

She couldn’t stand it anymore, either. We’d spent the better part of the day together… when she said she had some things to get done, and hoped I wouldn’t mind if she just dropped me off at the Train Station.

I didn’t realize she was going to drop me off two hours before train time, though. It was beginning to sink in. Something wasn’t exactly right here…

The train ride home was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever experienced.

Before the week was done, I was going to feel my heart breaking… just a little at a time. And, I was going to need a therapist to help me sort all of this stuff out.

© Dick Ogden