Archive for the ‘Heartaches’ Category


A Pointless Story

October 4, 2013

What’s the worst part of losing a beloved person? Maybe it’s how you constantly want to tell him about a goofy thing you saw, or your take on a stupid news item. Or relate something that nobody else would get the humor of, a callback to a joke that only the two of you were in on. But you can’t, because that whole world of shared memories and references has gone up in smoke.

There was a years-long phone and email flirtation with a faraway man. Back at the beginning, I said I adored some book or movie. He called it a woman’s word, a weak word that no man would ever use, and neither should any female journalist who hoped to be taken seriously. We verbally mock-sparred about it. As time went by, I’d send him quotations from male writers who indeed used the word “adore.” He used it sometimes ironically, and still maintained that it was a silly word. I used it sometimes, usually in capitals, just to be a brat. Of course, it was him I adored.

Eventually, it seemed like a business trip might bring him in my direction. So I went to the clinic and requested tests for whatever STDs they thought might be pertinent. The woman who took my history asked why, and I told her. The likelihood that I had anything catchy was vanishingly small, but I was covering all the bases, just in case. A symptomless germ could lurk for years, waiting for opportunity. Granted, it was awfully presumptuous, but if I actually had the chance to meet this guy, and if things got interesting, I wanted a clean bill of health.

And she said “I ADORE that you’re doing this.”

Holy shit! I couldn’t wait to tell him, at the appropriate time of course – once we were between the sheets, or better yet, later, in the intimate afterglow. Because this was a clear and meaningful signal from the universe that we shared a special connection, as demonstrated by the approval of a random medical assistant.

What happened was, he died without our ever meeting. So the little “adore” synchronicity is totally pointless, entirely wasted, because it will never be heard by the person who was meant to share that particular tidbit of cosmic humor .