Loneliness?

She was a very strange woman all right. You had not met a woman like her before. She was married four times, had an affair during the fourth marriage and a child was conceived with her lover, but her fourth husband adopted the child as his own. She then dumped her lover and moved on to another one after divorcing her fourth cuckolded husband. She supported her latest lover for 14 years until she met you through a mutual friend. At that time you were quite down in the dumps after one bad relationship after another. First, you discovered that Denise to whom you took a liking was an unlicensed whore. Then Meilin suddenly turned cold on you after such a promising start. You thought you would have a chance to work on your spoken French with a native speaker. You agreed to meet Harriet, the subject of this "biography" on a lark after your landlord praised her to high heaven for her high "morality" and generosity. There were only two problems: she was uneducated and ten years older than you. The first meeting in Starbucks was not auspicious. She looked ancient and sported a ridiculous hairdo with bottled blond color. On the other hand, she kept her figure in good shape and she had a very sharp mind. She was incredibly articulate and possessed a good, charming voice. She at first called you "kiddo" but as the conversation progressed, you could see that she was impressed with you even after you told her that you were a tightwad and yet had no interest in her money. You would insist on Dutch treat all the way if she and you ever dated. She mentioned about her boyfriend from whom she was temporarily separated. He was a loser except for being gentle and great in bed! You informed her that you were nonconformist, had artistic sensibilities, and suffering from impotence in many ways, except in expressing yourself via words. She laughed her head off at your self-description. She said that you had a good sense of humor, to which you replied that sexual impotence was not a laughing matter. She laughed some more and then hinted darkly that with her, no man would worry about impotence! You then remarked that it was very reassuring to hear. After beating around the bush and dropping double entendres, she said she might call you someday. You looked at her, nodding your head and said nothing. And then you took off in bewilderment. Next day, she called just as you were arriving at your office and said she would like to invite you for lunch on the following Sunday and would you mind if she brought along a female friend. Of course not, you replied.

When you showed up at the restaurant on that fateful Sunday, she dolled herself with the same ridiculous hairdo and a sharp dress. Her friend looked even more ancient than she was and one-tenth of the beauty. Yet she brazenly hit on you! You politely fended her off. Harriet had an expression of a mixture of amusement and annoyance on her face. When the bill came, you picked it up. Her friend made a show of paying for her share, but both you and Harrriet waved her off. When you got home, the phone rang. It was she. "Thank you very much for picking up the bill, my dear gentleman. I was testing you."

She called you everyday afterwards, just like clock work, around 9:30 pm. The conversation occasionally lasted until the wee hours of the morning. She told you about her aristocratic, pampered background, about her past marriages and affairs. She also talked movingly about her lonely childhood and adolescence and how unwisely she neglected to study hard. Most importantly, she disclosed that she had dual personality and a loneliness because of it. She intimated that despite numerous marriages and affairs, she always felt lonely until she met you, but she was gravely concerned about the age discrepancy between her and you, which was aggravated by your youthful appearance. You didn't talk much. You just listened. Occasionally you made some wisecracks and she laughed or chuckled. Her favorite expression was "you little devil" when you teased her. You provided her with basic information about yourself. You told her that you were somewhat deranged, that you blew almost all of your savings in stock and gambling ventures, that you were depressed and suicidal and relying on words to keep the fogs of depression at bay, that you were indeed impotent and yet you refused to seek help, that you didn't give a damn about her money.

One night, she sounded strange and distracted. You asked why. She revealed that her boyfriend was back with her and that she might not talk to you much anymore. You firmly told her that the news was actually a blessing in disguise because talking to her every night was a big distraction and disruption to your life and indeed you needed to devote more time to reading and writing, the routine you had in the evening prior to her intrusion into your life. She hung off the phone in a huff. A feeling of disgust and anger permeated your being. You went outside, jumped into your Camero and drove to the nearby fitness club and swam until your arms and legs ached and you were panting with exhaustion.

She stopped calling. And you were too proud to call her. In fact, after two weeks of waiting for her calls, you deleted both her land line and mobile phone numbers. Weeks and then months passed by. You barely functioned but you soldiered on. You hit the gym in earnest. It helped you a lot. You set goals that you had to accomplish at the gym. Meanwhile you stayed away from women. You stopped flirting with them. Exactly six months later, she called. She opened the conversation by saying "This is Harriet. Please don't hang up. We need to talk."

She said that she missed you terribly, that she was afraid, that she was talking to her full-grown children and her nephew about you and they all told her to dump her long-time leech boyfriend and to go after you. You sulkingky told her that you were not in the competition business and that was beneath you. You added that at any rate, she deserved better, and she should keep herself busy. You earnestly added that you were not necessarily the one to replace her boyfriend, but for her financial safety and self-respect she should examine carefully why she was still
drawn and attached to her boyfriend despite his obvious using her for such a long time. You saved the best "comment" for last: she must confront her feelings, that if she really loved and respected him. She cried when she hung up the phone.

You felt cathartic and at peace with yourself. You were through with being nice and diplomatic with her. You told her what you felt inside of you. You confronted your own feelings. You cared about her, but you cared about your self-respect and dignity much more. You could survive without her, without anybody. You really didn't need anybody, any woman to know who you were and your worth. You also didn't need the financial support of anybody. You still have enough money to survive with dignity. You must be careful not to spend it unwisely as you had done before when you were younger and afflicted with foolishness.

She called back a week later, sounding strained and drained. "Why didn't you call?", she sobbed. You said nothing. She then asked you if you missed her. You replied in the affirmative. Her voice perked up. She told you she had just said goodbye to her long-time beau and you were now the only male friend she had. She then haltingly asked if you cared about her. You said, yes. More than as a friend? Yes. What about the age discrepancy? Not uncomfortable anymore. "Then please call me now and then. I woukd love that."

Two weeks after that conversation, she got rid of her stupid hairdo at your insistence. You took her to a hairstylist and told her what to do with your girlfriend's hair. When it was done, Heather (you told her you never liked the name Harriet. It made her sound ancient and hicky) looked 10 years younger and immeasurably more dignified with dark brown dyed hair and conservative, matronly style.. You paid for the haircut. She took you to Walgreens and purchased facial and hand lotions for you.

She went back with you to your apartment and spent the night with you. She was a tigress in bed, surprising you with one unexpected disclosure after another. When it was over, she told you she loved you the first time she laid her eyes on you, but she was afraid of the age discrepancy. She then said she wanted you to be happy and peaceful and she would do everything in her power to make that happens.

Then somebody knocked on your door insistently. You hurriedly got dressed and answered the door. A courtly gentleman in late 60's asked. " Excuse me, I need to to talk to Harriet urgently!" Her voice rang out behind you, "Larry, I already told you we were through. And I really meant it! How did you know I am here?"

Postcript:

You knocked yourself hard, with the result that you lay flat on your back on the floor, eyes wide shut, as the music drifted in and out of your consciousness. She was singing her heart out. She claimed she loved you. Maybe she really did. She seemed to be happy. 

Others had said they loved you. Many of them were from different ethnicities and they declared their affection in various languages. That was why you chuckled when you read Victor's boastful words that he was blessed in the love department and that of all the members of the group more women loved him than anybody else. He didn't know about you! 

Anyway, with so many women who have claimed to love you, then why is the curse of loneliness choking you? Maybe that's something really wrong with you and you are trying to find that out via words. 

One gets out of love of what he puts/invests himself into it. Maybe you have not invested a lot of yourself because the ghosts of Laura, TTAD, and Agnes have held you back. In some ways, other women didn't come close. Maybe you are asking more than what others can deliver. Love is at once a rare and common commodity. Everybody can mouth off about love, but only a few can actually give unconditionally of themselves, without fear nor regret. Most of us wait for the others to move first. Love is a waiting game for the loneliness to subside.

Wissai

You received the following feedback from a long-time friend about the above fictional "biography" of the "tigress":

Good Morning,

I can’t seem to separate you from your writing. Maybe there is something within me and yet it is a bit more. It is the reason you say you write: catharsis. Your writing is a tool that you use to take your feelings outside of yourself and examine them. It is also a window for others if they care to gaze in

Your latest words sent me on a brief excursion into the world of loneliness. The thing is: what is loneliness to you and you to loneliness? Your loneliness hit me hard as did your poetry. 
 
I will not take your words or your latest "story" apart. Not this morning. Will I ever share my insights? That depends on you and on how brave I am. One thing I must say is that the ghosts of Laura and some other love continue to fly around within your words.

(to be continued)