Doing The Right Thing

Most of my “ex’s” are dead.

What’s this, another fumbled attempt at a witty remark? Sadly, no.

Unfortunately for me, it seems as though a tangible portion of my romantic life has been more than slightly dark (And, no, I’m not talking about your garden variety darkness here, I’m talking about “impenetrable shadows dwelling beneath hanging willows in neglected corners of forgotten cemeteries on moonless nights” dark. That’s a very dark, dark.)

Which brings me, in a roundabout way, to the issue at hand. The issue, which is…oh yeah! Me unburdening myself upon the masses simply for the sake of my own comfort. Here, here! (pardon me or something)

So here’s the thing:

I’m in love. I’ve been in love for several years now. The woman that I’m so completely enamored of is not, unfortunately, the woman that I’ve been romantically involved with for the past three years.

Hmmm…yeah, I know. Don’t make sense, eh? Well, sometimes the world finds us at our weakest. Sometimes dreams don’t completely coincide with opportunities. Sometimes loneliness gets a little too lonely to bear, or physical beauty encourages us to forgive too many shortcomings for far too long. Sometimes, sometimes, feh… Sometimes there’s simply no excuse for being a world-class prick or making a selfish (foolish) decision.

There are a lot of sometimes’ we’re wont to use when explaining away our failings, partner. There’s always one constant that you can count on however: At some point down the road, you’re most assuredly going to end up reaping what you’ve sown.


I’d like to briefly explain the progression of this horribly defunct relationship, though I’m well aware that I run the risk of offending you or, at the very least, diminishing your opinion of me (if such a thing is possible), with the details of my dalliance. You see, the relationship started out rather normally. I mean, there were the requisite romantic moments, the passionate and unbridled sex, the shy, glowing admiration of one another. I did, at least initially, hold out a very strong hope that our seemingly minor differences might work themselves out, leaving a purer, cleaner emotion behind. Maybe…love?

Of course, I was mistaken. I usually am. In all fairness, I should have known, however. All the signs were there. I mean, in the beginning there was the whole “being attacked” by the giant, apelike, formerly incarcerated for acts of violence, previously undisclosed, jealous boyfriend thing. Naturally, that progressed into the whole “police manhunt” thing, which ultimately culminated in the “going to ground” of the aforementioned yeti, and his subsequent lurking return lo these three years later. There was that. But hey, we all have our skeletons, don’t we?

Then, there was that whole “getting’ hauled off to jail for stealing eight grand from the workplace thing.” A lot of people might have soured to the relationship somewhere around there, I think. But, hey…forgive and forget, right?

It wasn’t the whole “scandalous affair” with the personal trainer that bugged my fucking eyes out of my head for the final time (although, admittedly, that came close), or even the suddenly developing need to “rush to the ER because I’m having abdominal pains” thing that started coming up more and more frequently as our relationship had begun to grind to a halt.

I even forced myself to be stoic through the unexpected development of her mood-swings, bouts of unrestrained shouting, and demeaning and abusive diatribe, offering my shoulder to cry on at the end of it all where many would’ve offered the back of their hand at the very beginning. Despite my inability to comprehend this strange reaction to my Christlike forgiveness of her past transgressions, it wasn’t this that finally broke me, either.

What finally quashed the relationship for me, I think, was my quiet realization that somewhere out there was a lady whom I loved; a lady whom I’d never been able to convince myself to stop loving after three long years of trying very hard to distract myself. We get one go through this world, you know? One spin. As you get older, there’re doubtlessly going to be some world-class regrets that cloud your quiet reminiscences. I really doubt that there’s a lot you can do to prevent that. Lord knows, it’s far too late for me to be trying to play cleanup. I’ve got a mess stretched out behind me that the superfund couldn’t make a dent in. But, lifting my head for a moment and looking at this…this crime I’d been committing against the two of us. I don’t know. I just couldn’t allow something this profound to cast its shadow over the remainder of my days. So, I left. I up and left just like that.

And that’s when the crop came in, baby. Boy, did it ever.

(And I know, I know…anyone out there who has any shred of character whatsoever is looking at this and thinking: “Jesus, you asshole. Where the fuck is your self-respect? I’d have been out of there at the first fuck-up. Whatsamatta you?”

Well, you’re right. I probably ought to have been. I could rationalize and tell you that I stayed because the good times were good, but although they were certainly good…I’d be lying. While no honest excuse exists for the aberrant mishandling of this relationship, I did have a reason. Underneath the thin patina of threatened loneliness that we all grow loathe to face as we age, down deep beneath the corpse of our mutual affection, dwelt a very real and profound love for a delicate little angel of a girl who I’d come to protect from all manner of hardship and threat in this pitiful world, and who’d come to regard me as her father…my paramour’s daughter.

Her, I love.

She really is all sunshine, smiles, and everything good that’s promised but seldom delivered in this harsh, usurious existence. To spend a day with her, playing and laughing at the park or at the beach, is to learn one’s place in this world. As the sunlight begins to fail and the twilight descends, she comes to me and falls into my lap seeking comfort from the chill or anything else that might threaten her fragile security. As we sit wordlessly and watch the sun fall into the west, her perception of me is as unshakable as Gibraltar, all solace, comfort, and love. And for a moment, and least, I’m beknighted by that. Her innocent trust inspires me to be the best man that I’m able, and in a world where the cruelest and most ruthless among us are often at the head of the pack, I guess I need that. I prostrate myself before that in the way that avowed heathens helplessly crash to their knees before the presence of the holy. To me, at least, it’s not surprising that I’d become so easily addicted to the presence of such a beautiful living argument against mankind’s rampant predaciousness. I’m getting older now and I don’t really seem to see that sort of thing so often anymore.

And, more than that, I never ever wanted to take that illusion away from her. I never wanted to be the reason that she’d come to lose faith in the enduring nature of the good things in this world or in the permanence of my love for her. But I guess some camels are weaker and some straws far heavier than they ought to have a right to be.)So, as I said, amid much shouting, raving, and crying…I left. I examined the situation as best as I was able and decided that leaving was the only right thing left to do. So, I excused myself from all the abuse and fallacy, and mustered the courage and resolve to finally walk away.

And here I sit, two days later, having just gotten the word that she’s found out that all those late night trips to the ER weren’t the result of ulcers, nerves, or anything else that I wish so desperately they were.

I guess the doctor who first saw her in the ER some months ago spotted a small adnexal cyst on her right side, but he thought it relatively normal and not worth following up, so he wrote the whole pain-thing off to stress. Well, today the CAT scan showed something a bit different. Whether the ultimate spread of the cancer might’ve been preventable had it been recognized for what it was or not is hard to say. I like to think that it wouldn’t have made a difference, but what the fuck does that matter anyway? I’m not the one with it scattered all through my organs now. I’m not the one who’s dying.

And, right now, the “right thing” doesn’t feel so very right at all.