Attic Boxes II

Among the stuff in the first box I am going through that was in my Mom’s
attic, there were cards, notes, postcards and other tidbits from various men
who floated into and out of my life many moons ago. It is always interesting to
me how these writings from the past are able to transport me back to that time
and that place with those feelings. Close my eyes and I am a college student at
Southampton LIU. Or a laboratory technician at Cosper Environmental. Or just returned
from the Peace Corps drinking my readjustment allowance. I look at these
writings, remember the circumstances, the times and wonder at the incredible
inappropriate choices for mates I have made over the years.

There is Mark who I met when I “went away” to college (it was like an
hour’s drive from my Mom’s house; away but not too far away). He was younger
than I and I believe I met him through my friend Audra. I think that they lived
in the same quad. Mark was completely unattractive physically. He was really
tall. He had greasy hair that was in a floppy mohawk for a while. He had a long
and pointy nose. Somehow none of that mattered to me. What mattered was his
laid back grateful dead Vermontness. His sexual confidence and his ability to teach
me about my own body. For some reason the fact that he had an extremely “I am going
to marry her” serious girlfriend back in Vermont did not seem to bother me
either. Maybe this makes me a horrible person. Maybe this makes me someone who
has commitment issues. I can’t say.

Mark came to my family’s Thanksgiving one year. I drove up to Vermont
in the summer to visit him. It was crazy. I stayed at his family’s house with
his mother and brother who had no idea I was his secret lover. We would drive
my Buick Skyhawk into the woods and park. Trust me when I say that having sex
in a stream in Vermont sounds much sexier and funner than it actually is (let’s
just start by saying brrrrr). I think that his girlfriend was out of town when
I was there. Unbelievably brazen.

One of the documents in my box is a list of essay questions I wrote for
Mark to answer. There are 20 questions in all which I apparently wrote while in
music class. The directions for him are to “please answer in essay form; simple
yes and no answers are unacceptable.” The funniest thing is that he answered
them all, in essay form.  I asked him questions like, “if you didn’t have a girlfriend, would I be your girlfriend?” (yes you would. It would easy to let that
happen. Of course I don’t know what our relationship would be like if I didn’t
have [insert girlfriend’s name here]. Everything else held constant than yes
you would.)
and “do you ever think about me? Or miss me?” (yes I do. I wonder what you are doing and what you are thinking and what I’ll do with you when I see you. Not just that you pervert! Everything, dinner, radio station, etc.) 

I wonder if Mark married his girlfriend. Maybe he realized that I was
likely a symptom of something that was not right. I would like to say that I
felt badly about being with him but I don’t for the most part. I feel like
this makes me a bad woman. A disgrace to women everywhere. To knowingly be with
someone, fall for them, be intimate with them knowing that there is another
woman loving him someplace else. The thing is that Mark was the first real
lover I ever had. The first who was not a bumbling boy. I appreciated his skill,
his patience and his ability. I loved that he got me out of my box. To be
safely crazy. To open up. No regrets only thanks.

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About nematomorph

Living like the rich and famous, splitting time between Hawaii and New York.
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2 Responses to Attic Boxes II

  1. Paula says:

    Is it worse when it’s more than one? Or is it better? Why don’t we just contemplate that behind our Mona Lisa smiles? Can we leave that door ajar…?

  2. Paula says:

    I’d say it’s a ’70s thing but you’re too young for that!

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