But wait, there’s more

I heard my phone signal the arrival of mail on yahoo around three am. I glanced at the inbox and saw a new email from Rahim. I grunted and went back to sleep. Either he was going to denounce me for being a cad and leaving him, or he was going to swear again his undying allegiance to me.

When I finally got up around 8, showered and got dressed, I read the email. I was not too surprised at the florid outpouring of his devotion and love. He did acknowledge my lament that we couldn’t chat via Skype, and he did reckon that we might be able to text via Google voice.

But he then went on as to how he is daily obsessed with me and that we are the best-est things that have ever happened. He even started using the word “Baby”. I’m sure he thinks of it as a term of endearment. I’ve never liked the use of the word. I’ll say something if its use becomes habitual.

I find his expressions of love and commitment to be a challenge to me. Even with Anne, in the hot passion of our summer of 73, I found it hard to dig down into my soul and to express words of love and devotion. Is this a challenge for any man? I fancy myself something of a writer, a poet, an artist of sorts. That I find it sobering, and I hesitate to say the words of my love, affection, commitment and devotion of another somewhat difficult. I become tongue-tied, shy, and hesitate to speak words into the air that barely describe the feelings that I have.

To be honest, I think I have such strong feelings of lust and longing on the physical level that I don’t know what I feel or want to give beyond a physical encounter. How do I separate the two — physical longing for the person versus feelings of well-being for them? Rahim is a prisoner in a gilded cage, living in a Islamic strait-jacket in a marble palace in UAE. I suspect that, class-wise, we are oceans apart; he from an ultra-rich society and I from a lower middle class working people. He creates delusional idylllic relations in his head (he has nothing else to do!) whereas I, with my history in the mental health mine fields of pastoral care and social work, I stitch together quilts of human possibility.

I sent him my cell number so if he does text, he can reach me. We’ll see. I also sent him my address so he can Goggle map my house and see where I live. The image is over a year old — the new trim is not visible nor are the trees on the east side — but it’s a good representation. I mentioned in my email to him that I doubt we’ll ever meet but at least we have passion on the pages.

I took Blanche in to get her claws trimmed and her teeth brushed. The staff at the groomers went nuts over her. They claimed that they’d never seen a cat so docile as Blanche that she willingly submits to having her teeth brushed. The groomer declared that Blanche is the only cat she’ll work on this way.  It was an embarrassment of praises. I was thanked for being patient. Of course.


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