Falling in Love Again

I'm wild about that tune or maybe I just love Dietrich's world weary delivery. Haven't seen the movie, Der Blaue Engel, since I was a kid. It left a mark though. Dietrich.

Falling in love again? Would I? Could I? Can there be romance after The Amazing Bob?

I can barely breathe without my MOST Amazing Bob so this is a hypothetical. My hero’s been gone two months now. It feels like forever and as though I just lost him yesterday. Christ on Half Moons (TAB’s faves!), I ache.

I've always been the type to think ahead, often WAY the fuck down the line, so I wonder. Of course I do. What will the rest of my life be like without TAB? Right now, the idea of having anyone else in my life, in my bed is anathema and a half, times 50 bazillion. I just don't see it happening. Anyone new would be forced to share the stage with my golden TAB – like Tessie O'Shea with the Beatles. That'd be a recipe for major tank-age – unfair to them AND me.

Now, Daddy told me, way back when he was in you’re-about-to leave-home advice giving mode, marry your best friend. Like a good, smart daughter, I followed his prescription. I've talked before of how, on first conversation with TAB, I fell tête over teakettle in love. He got me. I got him. We were twisted in just the right, complementary way. Our tops spun and danced in analogous arcs. We were humming along on the very same frequency.

Also too, he was hot. Very.

A friend from high school, with whom I've recently become reacquainted, said that she remembered me as always going my own way, not trying to fit in, just bein' who I was and fuck that being-like-everyone-else shit. Ok, she may have worded it a bit differently – like without the swears.

Funny thing is, I really wanted to fit in. I imagine, every 15 year old does. I regret that I tried at all. Obvs, I wasn't terribly successful in my efforts since this friend saw me more as a proud freak flag flyer.

And that’s another bit of advice from Poppy: to thine own self be true. He saw me struggling and tried to steer me towards I’m OK–You’re OK-ville, Go Your Own Way-burg. Took awhile but I got there.

 To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.
~ Oscar Wilde

In any case, point of the story here, I'm not looking to get life partnered up again – maybe I never will be but most certainly not now. PLUS I don't think there's a bazillion potentials waiting for my dazzling neon personality to show up on the Norms R Us dating sites either. And that's fine. Truly and really.

Of my fellow widow pals, one says she's done with romance – she’s not lookin', not interested. Another has dated but chose, so far anyway, not to remarry. A third has been very happily involved with a new fella for about a year now. What all four of us have in common is that our loves, our gone-baby-gone spouses were of the brilliant, burn the skies up and down, hearts linked like titanium ringlets, Romeo-and-Juliet-all-grown-up brand of grand amour.

We were lucky. Most folks, it seems, don't ever meet, recognize and then marry their best friends. We did.