Backstory and bullshit

The title of this entry is a kudo to my old-school web.journal peer, Gage. She is offline now, but her words are still online, and you can, and should, view them here.

It's been a while since we've talked, and maybe I should tell you what's happened since you last checked up with me.

Melody, ultimately, didn't want me. I wanted her desperately, but was found wanting. She taught me many things, made me be a better man solely through the force of my wanting her so desperately much, but ultimately, things didn't work out. I think we'll probably be friends until we die, but we can never be lovers or mates again.

For a while, I dated Terri, a tough, smart woman with amazing calves who works ensuring your safety in the skies. She was too recently out of her bad marriage, and for many reasons, we weren't right for each other.

I would have given my heart to Julie, a soulful, incredibly smart woman in New England who is the only other human I have ever known who both played, and loved, bassoon and horn. I laid my heart out for Julie to stomp on, and due to my stupidity... she did. Hard. Without meaning to. Last month, I was driving on I-4 between Daytona and Orlando, crying so hard that I could barely see. Had I been pulled over, I don't think there's a Florida statute that covers driving-while-crying-uncontrollably. All Julie said was -- dear, sweet, gentle, smart, talented Julie Dorsey -- "please don't contact me any more."

I was a wreck for weeks.

She was perfect for me in every way, except one: she didn't want me.

That trumps everything else, doesn't it?

I was reminded of that again.

And after Julie, I met a small platoon of nice women who didn't seem interested enough to bother following up with me.

Until Belinda.

Belinda has changed my life.

Belinda reminded me that what I've wanted all my adult life was not only good and right, but possible and affordable... not in money, but in emotion. If I had keys to my house (I don't) she would have set. I have keys to hers, and we talk constantly, plan jointly, think compatible, love each other supportingly.

My profiles are all offline now. Everyone else missed their chance... both for her and for me. She is my love, my girl, my match, my mate.

I love how she tastes. I love her apartment, her disorder. I love her searching hazel eyes and her cute calves and her tears and laughter. I love the feeling of controlled chaos I have missed for more than twenty years now.

I love... her.

We are mated. Mated in every sense of the word.

I promise not to be sicky-sweet about this. She would hate that if she knew... and she likely will. If I had my way, we would both write a joint history of our relationship. It's amazing and worth recording, not for our own sake, but to be a beacon for people who think they have to settle for whatever they can get.

Please don't settle. Your mate really is out there. Look carefully, and be honest and open with yourself.

Be prepared to be hurt. Rejoice in your hurt, because anyone who hurts you like that is not your true mate. Never put up with anything less for long.

I adore her for reminding me of this.