I finally found an old friend the other day, someone that I didn't appreciate when they were in my life. A really beautiful person that I met initially as a 'pen pal' in a Stranger personal ad sometime in the early 90s. We eventually met and enjoyed each other's company for awhile. But while I found her beautiful, sexy, smart, and intriguing, I made excuses not to be with her. I wouldn't let myself fall for her, although reading my journals from the time, it appeared that was where I was heading. It wasn't too long after giving the 'let's just be friends' speech, the coward's way out, in retrospect, that I met the infamous Cynthia. But before her was Cathie, and it wasn't until years later that it finally dawned on me that I was kind of a jerk to her, and that I should have never let her out of my life. Yes. These are mind games, or even better, mind fucks. Whatever happened, happened in its time. It couldn't have gone any other way--and there's no point lamenting about it all these years later. Yet now, alone, and somewhat skittish about getting involved with anyone again, and with the world changing with the recent death of my father, I'm ruminating quite a bit on things past. It's a little silly, I admit. But it's what's been happening for me of late.

I've actually been trying to find Cathie ever since I got back from living in Mexico in 2000. But only through the Internet. Every so often I'd Google her name and see if anything promising would come up. About a year ago I found some sort of real estate listing that I thought might be connected with her, but with only a phone and fax number. I sent a fax explaining who I was, and left a phone message as well. But nothing came of it. With my dad dying two weeks ago, I had been going through old cards and letters, and came across a few things from Cathie I had kept. I was saddened to realize that I've lost or thrown away much of what she had written me within a few years of our losing touch with one another. I decided to try looking for her again, and for the first time the chances seemed quite good that I had found her.

I wrote what must have seemed like a really strange letter, coming out of the black after nearly 14 years of no contact. She had a different name, so I figured she was married, and hopefully happily so, 'cause she deserved that. I apologized for not being true to my word, because I probably had no intention of being 'friends.' I just wanted out, and said that because that's what coward's say when they don't want to deal with the energy of the other when trying to get away. I'm sure some people really mean it, but how often does that ever happen? I get a response within a day, and I was really pleased to find out that she was the woman from my past, and that she did indeed have a wonderful, loving husband, and that they were making a beautiful life together.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little envious, but we each make our own way in the world, and where I'm at now is 100% my own doing. I wouldn't be alone if I weren't choosing it somehow. And it's not as if I'm not happy, because I am actually doing quite well. But I remember what it is like to be with someone that one can trust, share, and be vulnerable with....be 'real' with. And it is a rare and beautiful thing. It's relatively easy to find someone for sex, if that's all one cares about. But for something more, one has to be ready and able to go much further. Perhaps I wasn't ready with Cathie? Perhaps not even with Cynthia or La Malinche? Will I ever be, I wonder? Should I wait until that 'right person' comes along? Or is it better to relax and 'love the one you're with'? (Or the one that you're not so into, but might be into you?)

Cathie was very kind in her response. She accepted my apology, and wished me well. I really couldn't have hoped for anything better than that! So I can release the guilt I have carried, and really more or less cultivated over the past 7 years or so. I don't think I had much of a clue during the first seven. She was and is a really special person, and I'm feeling pretty damn lucky to have connected with her, albeit briefly, and when I was nowhere near being the best that I could have been. Because that year and the one before were really tough for me. I had been in love with a woman I went to massage school with, and the feeling was never quite a mutual one, although occasionally it seemed like it might have been possible. Sadly, I get obsessed with people who aren't quite into me. And reject most who are. Irony. It's a funky theme running throughout my funny little life.