MALE IGNORANCE ABOUT LOVE II
Hi everyone, wonderpeople.
Writing this wasn’t easy. Remember my first ever post a few weeks ago? Or was it the spider one?
SHE SAID; “I LOVE YOU BUT IT’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU.” A FEW YEARS LATER SHE PROPOSED. THAT WAS OVER FIFTY YEARS AGO. SHE'S STILL SINGLE. PLEASE SOMEONE EXPLAIN.
It caused, to me unbelievable responses, some wanting to know more so this is the more. Didn’t know you people existed. My bad. Thanks. First time on a forum, virginal I think is the concept. No, a thanks is not enough, you’ve all helped me big time; hugs all around… on the house. Feel amongst friends. Only now am I beginning to see something… at least hoping to. The only thing I sought understanding for was the sentence, ‘I LOVE YOU BUT IT HAS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU’.
But, as some said, without the other ‘bits’ it’s impossible to get the puzzle nor the analysis (answer) complete, so here goes; In that first post I exposed something that I’ve never spoken about to anyone, not even to myself and then based on those five sentences you dissected me like a frog (did someone say rat?) and made me feel who I was - am; a rat? Did me good. Perhaps I’ve been locked inside my own subjective little world busy killing budding feelings and now you people opened the window, or something and let me out; be proud. This whole story… funny, it’s difficult to go back in time, blocks, hurts, happened in another country… existence. I don’t remember how I met her but I did, and suddenly my world stood still… or was it a lift-off or …, anyway nothing was the same the moment after. She lived in a hospital dormitory, a nurse she was, and the girls there smiled at us. I took her, the first girl ever, to meet my mother who said that I’ve got it bad, I took her to meet everyone, she was mine and I hers and I was so proud, two inches taller, and then she wasn’t there. It had only lasted a few months. Tears blur the vision… sorry, first time since then that I ‘speak’ about this. Her name was Sarah, like my daughters. The usually smiling girls looked at me funnily when I came asking for her but she wasn’t there. I had never thought of enquiring about her family, it had been a forgone conclusion to both of us that our future lay ahead as one, and suddenly I didn’t know where to go or what to do to find her. A day or two later, don’t remember exactly, when again waiting for her to come back from somewhere one of the young nurses came over and said that she is in another hospital… as a patient. Rush! There they told me that she had gone… passed away… just a day or two ago. That’s when things stopped, but I managed to ask, “But where is she!?” hoping she still was. ‘She’s already buried,’ and I realized that she was Jewish and that I had been too late… to see her… to be with her… to…
Don’t remember much immediately after that, I think everything was cold and had hard sharp corners and everything hurt as they came hurtling at me from anywhere. I must have buried her too, somewhere deep as for many years I didn’t remember anything about her, no grief or indeed that she had ever existed; what do they call it, rejection something? Actually it was someone’s profile on Mingle2 that prompted me to feel and recall. My mother tried to help me as I buried myself in work, I drank, came up with new projects, women galore (must have hurt many), spent money, researched my own field, wrote, wore invisible blinders, you know like the horses did in the olden days, and then I dived into sea of music…
I met her at the Sibelius Academy where we both studied and then months or something later she said, “I LOVE YOU BUT IT’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU.” I didn’t understand it then nor do I do today. That year, a leap one, on February the twenty ninth she threatened to propose to me and ‘we both’ laughed at ‘it’. After another four years, meanwhile she had become a fairly well known opera singer, when that same date hit the news she truly did propose and the custom of the local culture ‘forced’ me to buy her enough material for a new frock so that she’d have better luck next time. I bought her a whole bolt of the most beautiful material available, my mother chose, from which she could have made ten dresses and five gowns. How ironically ignorant or something I was; why in heavens name didn’t anyone shoot me, not necessarily in the ‘grey matter splashed all over the wall’ sense but at least in some. And as ‘we both’ laughed at the diminutive ‘it’ her world must have come crashing down whilst I was blindly rushing through what I thought was life, at max speed without aim looking neither left nor right and especially not behind.
Then as the pendulum slowly swung things settled down and I began caring again; as a therapist helping those lost (hear that nearchoking scream of merry irony?), fostering kids, big and small, taking in homeless, those in need, food for the poor… to the excess… till this day. Someone said my home, a large one, pool, sauna, the works, was like a train station with people of all ages coming and going, some stayed for a few months, some for years, even twenty, until they moved on. I thought I felt the purpose in what I did whilst avoiding publicity, as I do now, yet receiving both notoriety and commendations; if only they’d known, neither did I, the rat.
Sorry, I did tell part of this to my daughter a while back when things slowed down and bits of those cold hard corners began hitting me again. I explained why I had chosen Sarah as her name and a bit about Maggie, oh, that was the opera singer’s name, sorry, she had a dachshund, and we spoke about love. My daughter said that love is when the other person is more important than yourself; sixteen she was then. I have, whilst writing this, come to the, naïve?, conclusion that I had been, as they say, blindly in love with my first Sarah and after losing her I was unable to love, not Maggie or any of the others including my two wives or to search for it, love, as I denied its existence. But then my Babu Sarah came along. She turned adult (18) just a few weeks ago and I love her unconditionally and desperately, she’s more important to me than all else including you and me squashed into a pot. But; is it real or just ersatz love? Don’t answer.
Now after all that, please can someone explain to me what Maggie meant when she said, “I LOVE YOU BUT IT’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU.”
Thanks for reading, Leocreare… well, hug’s really.
PS. Googling I learned that, as an old childless spinster, she’s locally popular in that distant country for organizing every summer song festivals for children around these times when I write this. Those corners hurtling at me are sharp and painful!
Another PS. For donkey’s years I’ve been writing manuscripts for books, 20 plus, some over a hundred thousand words long, must be well over a million, perhaps two, words by now, books in need of editing, where love is always the underlying theme. Boy meets girl, the girl being the heroine, and after incredible, ‘kosher’ and often historical escapades later, they live happily ever after. Good stuff, unpublished. Never thought of it before; a connection with Sarah?
Yet another one; Is that why I hang around the Jerusalem shuck on Fridays, perhaps looking for…?
This’s the last PS and then I’ll go, promise; If you find it and then lose it you should… no, don’t listen to me. Too late. What a waste. Shouldn’t be playing the Moonlight Sonata in the background. Hurts. Bye.

I know this sounds weird but every word is true so therefre this must be classified as a documentary piece. Pleas say what you think and thanks for your time.

MY VERY OWN SPIDER
Right above my computer about two meters up sits a big spider, six cm plus measured from toe to toe, as if supported by air. Of course not by air, he has his web and I have mine. I often speak with him, look up at him feeling the mutual connection. I know it’s a him and we’re friends. Why do I know it’s a him is because I saw his woman a few weeks back and then she disappeared somewhere where women disappear to. Today in the middle of working on the manuscript for my book The Model I noticed something swinging gently in front of my eyes; a small spider less than a centi from the little toe to the one at the other side! Moving my head I caught the glimmer of the thin silken thread that held her suspended. I saw a youth exploring the world, or a ‘youthes’, like my own daughter. I wiggled my fingers on the keyboard and the young explorer climbed up swiftly taking her thread with her, stopping at times to have a curious look down at me and then continuing up. Still wiggling my fingers my eyes followed her. She sat up there for a while wondering at the world and then she probably went to her Mum cause I didn’t see her next time I looked up, only her Dad. A week later, that’s today, I again sat by my computer and began to write. Suddenly, there she was again in front of my eyes questioning, ‘how’s things’? I tried to tell her about the difference of being a spider and being a human from a human point of view. She was hanging on her silken thread two meters plus long, with her father watching from above for quite a while, both listening and then she began to slowly climb, if that’s what spiders do. My friend the spider had not spun his web down by my things, even the little one didn’t leave any material trace of her visits; it was clear, we could visit each other but the domains remained separate. No way would I spin my web where they lived, see, we were the best of friends and we share the world, there is space for everyone.
Can someone miss a spider? I can because I do. For months our friendship blossomed; when I came home I looked up at him and smiled, said a few words in greeting often enquiring how the day had been so far. I imagined that he smiled back. As a rule he didn’t move just held his masculine stance portraying his control over his domain and at times I worried about his health as his meager food intake… but then a fly deviated from his regular path and… yes you guessed right. But I didn't guess what was to follow as I saw the fly hit the web perhaps some twenty centi from my friend and then the unbelievable happened; I saw him in two places at once! Truly. The proud masculine shape still stood guard at its usual place whilst his alter ego, the hunter, simultaneously crouched over its prey in another. It must have been a trick he purposefully played on me or then just an optical illusion, I prefer the former.
Last night as the cat lay purring on my stomach I couldn’t fall asleep, not because of my cat but because I missed my friend the spider, done so many nights. When I came home that fatal day a week ago I looked up as usual and my smile of anticipation turned into one filled of fear, shock and then to deep sadness as the truth sank in. It really hurt. His legs had curled up around him into a fetal position except for one that lay stretched out as if defying death to the end. Should I take him down or leave him so I could remember… yes… no…? Then he made the decision for me and fell down next to the computer. The beautiful bougainvillea bushes climb up and shade the balcony where I sleep and there I placed him, amongst the colorful flowers in a world we both share with so many others.
The above story is true and it leaves me with a feeling of guilt and questions, like; Can one have a spider as a friend?

I’ve experienced the usual connections with the four legged kind, the cat, dog, goat and the horse, all rewarding for everyone. By the way the goat is superior to the others. I once had a summer-long relationship with a two legged loon, a bird with a very distinct call. She always kept out of my sight whilst she obviously kept an eye on me. When I went hiking in thr woods I could hear her call as she followed me at a distance hidden amongst the trees. Was she teasing me? Returning after having been away a few days her greetings were especially volumous.
The relationship was uplifting, rewarding and humbling. The following summer coming back to the same place I was met by her enthusiastic trills followed by a few of her own well-chosen words of greetings. And I didn’t see her, not once.
But perhaps the most unusual connection to things living, six legged this time, was when I befriended some pioneering bees. These, a bunch of carpenter bees, were about to settle in an old fallen tree trunk in our garden, roots and stuff you know, quite inspiring. I had placed it there for decorative purposes and as a bench. I followed with interest as they were busy drilling their holes and how couple after couple moved in to their newly built homes and then in time I saw more fly out than had moved in. Life was taking place. Later there could be a hundred of them happily playing in a merry dance around their apartments. I could walk through the ‘cloud’, stop, look at one of them straight in the eye so to speak, smile, connecting. But come someone else than me, oich! I could hear the song of their wings change; aggression! Be warned; stay away, private domain! It was the males that made the noise but then if it became sting-time it was the mother of the household that took over how typical). I had heard that one can have bees as friends, bees that actually recognize you, like apart from others… but a spider as a friend? Please tell me… what exactly I don’t know but just do.
PS. If you’re the reading and writing kind, contact and let’s boost each other. Got many manuscripts needing TLC.

MY VERY OWN SPIDER
Right above my computer about two meters up sits a big spider, six cm plus measured from toe to toe, as if supported by air. Of course not by air, he has his web and I have mine. I often speak with him, look up at him feeling the mutual connection. I know it’s a him and we’re friends. Why do I know it’s a him is because I saw his woman a few weeks back and then she disappeared somewhere where women disappear to. Today in the middle of working on the manuscript for my book The Model I noticed something swinging gently in front of my eyes; a small spider less than a centi from the little toe to the one at the other side! Moving my head I caught the glimmer of the thin silken thread that held her suspended. I saw a youth exploring the world, or a ‘youthes’, like my own daughter. I wiggled my fingers on the keyboard and the young explorer climbed up swiftly taking her thread with her, stopping at times to have a curious look down at me and then continuing up. Still wiggling my fingers my eyes followed her. She sat up there for a while wondering at the world and then she probably went to her Mum cause I didn’t see her next time I looked up, only her Dad. A week later, that’s today, I again sat by my computer and began to write. Suddenly, there she was again in front of my eyes questioning, ‘how’s things’? I tried to tell her about the difference of being a spider and being a human from a human point of view. She was hanging on her silken thread two meters plus long, with her father watching from above for quite a while, both listening and then she began to slowly climb, if that’s what spiders do. My friend the spider had not spun his web down by my things, even the little one didn’t leave any material trace of her visits; it was clear, we could visit each other but the domains remained separate. No way would I spin my web where they lived, see, we were the best of friends and we share the world, there is space for everyone.
Can someone miss a spider? I can because I do. For months our friendship blossomed; when I came home I looked up at him and smiled, said a few words in greeting often enquiring how the day had been so far. I imagined that he smiled back. As a rule he didn’t move just held his masculine stance portraying his control over his domain and at times I worried about his health as his meager food intake… but then a fly deviated from his regular path and… yes you guessed right. But I didn't guess what was to follow as I saw the fly hit the web perhaps some twenty centi from my friend and then the unbelievable happened; I saw him in two places at once! Truly. The proud masculine shape still stood guard at its usual place whilst his alter ego, the hunter, simultaneously crouched over its prey in another. It must have been a trick he purposefully played on me or then just an optical illusion, I prefer the former.
Last night as the cat lay purring on my stomach I couldn’t fall asleep, not because of my cat but because I missed my friend the spider, done so many nights. When I came home that fatal day a week ago I looked up as usual and my smile of anticipation turned into one filled of fear, shock and then to deep sadness as the truth sank in. It really hurt. His legs had curled up around him into a fetal position except for one that lay stretched out as if defying death to the end. Should I take him down or leave him so I could remember… yes… no…? Then he made the decision for me and fell down next to the computer. The beautiful bougainvillea bushes climb up and shade the balcony where I sleep and there I placed him, amongst the colorful flowers in a world we both share with so many others.
The above story is true and it leaves me with a feeling of guilt and questions, like; Can one have a spider as a friend?

I’ve experienced the usual connections with the four legged kind, the cat, dog, goat and the horse, all rewarding for everyone. By the way the goat is superior to the others. I once had a summer-long relationship with a two legged loon, a bird with a very distinct call. She always kept out of my sight whilst she obviously kept an eye on me. When I went hiking in thr woods I could hear her call as she followed me at a distance hidden amongst the trees. Was she teasing me? Returning after having been away a few days her greetings were especially volumous.
The relationship was uplifting, rewarding and humbling. The following summer coming back to the same place I was met by her enthusiastic trills followed by a few of her own well-chosen words of greetings. And I didn’t see her, not once.
But perhaps the most unusual connection to things living, six legged this time, was when I befriended some pioneering bees. These, a bunch of carpenter bees, were about to settle in an old fallen tree trunk in our garden, roots and stuff you know, quite inspiring. I had placed it there for decorative purposes and as a bench. I followed with interest as they were busy drilling their holes and how couple after couple moved in to their newly built homes and then in time I saw more fly out than had moved in. Life was taking place. Later there could be a hundred of them happily playing in a merry dance around their apartments. I could walk through the ‘cloud’, stop, look at one of them straight in the eye so to speak, smile, connecting. But come someone else than me, oich! I could hear the song of their wings change; aggression! Be warned; stay away, private domain! It was the males that made the noise but then if it became sting-time it was the mother of the household that took over how typical). I had heard that one can have bees as friends, bees that actually recognize you, like apart from others… but a spider as a friend? Please tell me… what exactly I don’t know but just do.
PS. If you’re the reading and writing kind, contact and let’s boost each other. Got many manuscripts needing love.

SHE SAID; I LOVE YOU BUT ITS GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU. A FEW YEARS LATER SHE PROPOSED. THAT WAS OVER FIFTY YEARS AGO. SHE'S STILL SINGLE. PLEASE SOMEONE EXPLAIN.