12 Days in May - A Journal (long-term, women, love, separation)

[SifuPhil]

12 Days in May


Day 1:
Thursday - As I'm walking through the downtown area I spy a breathtakingly beautiful and sexy woman. We trade looks and do the “look over the shoulder” routine after we pass each other. Her perfume is intoxicating and her attire would make a French designer blush with envy. She moves like a prima ballerina. I think I've found my soul-mate.

Day 2:
Friday - Back downtown running errands. My heart leaps as I see “my” woman again. I come up with a pretext to ask her a question. We chat for a while; she gives me her number to call this weekend. Her voice puts a chorus of angels to shame and her tumbling blonde hair looks like spun gold. Could this be the woman of my dreams?

Day 3:
Saturday - finally. Call “my” woman - she agrees to dinner downtown this evening. When we meet at the restaurant, she is a vision of Heaven wrapped in silk and satin. Her lilting laughter sends chills up my spine and her scent is overwhelmingly sensual. Unfortunately, she turns down my offer of after-dinner companionship - she must be the slow, careful type. She is still the most fascinating woman I have ever met.

Day 4:
Sunday - I call her up and invite her to a walk in the park. I wait at the fountain in my Reebok's and Wranglers. She shows up in Bruno Maglia and Dior.

Somehow, something is not quite...right.

We walk the trails but she stops constantly when her ankles twist. Her physical discomfort becomes overpowering and, sadly, we call it a day. I am heartbroken, but hold out hopes of our being a successful BF/GF pairing.

Day 5:
Monday - back to work. I call her cell phone; no answer. I wonder if she has recovered from our walk in the park. I begin to worry about her wellness and safety. I have no address for her, so cannot go directly to her domicile to offer aid. I feel ineffectual and powerless.

I call her several more times throughout the day - still no answer. I recall her nice blonde hair and sweet-smelling perfume. Maybe we can still be friends.

Day 6:
Tuesday - Calling her again. No answer. No callback. Nothing. What did I do wrong? She is becoming a quirky acquaintance. I think about the tattoo of a blood-dripping dagger on her left ankle.

Day 7:
Wednesday - Come on, woman - pick up! I'm burning up my minutes here! What - because you wear Dior you think you're too good for me? BTW - your roots are showing!

Day 8:
Thursday - No calls, no emails. It's been four days, and no contact.
I don't miss you at all - you and your fake mannerisms, your over-priced shoes and your hyena-like braying. I regret the day I ever saw you.

B*tch.

Day 9:
Friday - The Ice Queen calls; said she was in the hospital with pneumonia. Likely story. Said she was so sorry she couldn't call me, but was spending all her time coughing and hacking up bile. Her blood pressure was through the roof and her white blood cell count was dangerously low.

Overcome with remorse at the cold bastard I've become, I decide that she's telling the truth and visit her at the hospital, bringing 5 dozen roses and a small bauble from Tiffany's. I have to admit - even in her incapacitated state, she looks beautiful. As her doctor leaves the room I am somewhat puzzled by the fact that she isn't coughing, nor does she look in the least pale, but chalk it up to a basic genetic healing ability.

She tells me her doctor has prescribed home bed-rest for 4 weeks accompanied by a slew of medications, followed by a long round of tests at the hospital, and that I should forget about her and find myself another gal - that she probably isn't long for this world and would only disappoint me with her brief existence. I tearfully correct her and swear eternal love.

Day 10:
Saturday - I call her at home - no answer. I call the hospital - yes, she was discharged yesterday. Where is she? Did she faint and fall into the gutter? I prowl the streets all day and into the evening. I forget to eat. I almost get hit by a taxi. A dog piddles on my leg.

As I round the corner, I come upon the restaurant where we had our first date, and sweet memories flood my mind. I begin to get teary-eyed.

Then I see her sitting there with the doctor from the hospital. They're smiling and laughing and drinking and eating.

I hate women.

Day 11:
Sunday - That's it - I've sworn off women for good. I've called the Benedictine monastery upstate and have reserved a long-term room for myself. I don't need women - I'll devote myself to spiritual pursuits. I pack the few belongings I haven't sold or given away and prepare for tomorrow's train ride.

Day 12:
Monday - at Grand Central Station, waiting for the train. Although a certain sadness pervades my soul, I know in my heart I'm doing the right thing.

Suddenly, a voice: “Could you tell me if this is where I get the train to Poughkeepsie?”

I turn, and standing before me is a vision of divine loveliness. Her auburn hair bounces as she lifts and turns her head slightly, a mesmerizing fragrance of roses and sandalwood emanates from her perfect skin, and her eyes flash with the knowledge of hidden wonders...

I decide to catch a later train.

[njguy]

Hmmmmmm......Yeah.

[Odie]

WTH was that???????????????????? You and TVGUY could get a 2 for 1 discount at the mental ward....LOL

[SifuPhil]

Originally Posted by Odie

WTH was that???????????????????? You and TVGUY could get a 2 for 1 discount at the mental ward....LOL

Oooh...they're having the twofer sale again?

Righteous!

[njguy]

SifuPhil - Whatever you do don't hit your head with a - it won't make a great impression on your mind.

[SifuPhil]

Originally Posted by njguy

SifuPhil - Whatever you do don't hit your head with a - it won't make a great impression on your mind.

Well, I wouldn't mind a little hea...um...I mean...I'll be careful.

[gwynedd1]

That reminds me of my late uncle. I extracted several entries in his diary and some photos. He wrote down his love story.

#####
I will never forget the day I went out with my Polaroid One600 camera. It was the season for the beautiful black swallow tail butterfly and I eagerly road the 254 bus to take me near a patch of wild carrots I discovered. This was their dwelling place. A place of quiet breezes and beauty. I had no idea that would be the day I photographed a winged angel.

Normally this was my day off so I was not typically on this route when a beautiful girl in black pants and an open jacket stepped onto the bus. I could not look directly at her, but I could not help glancing continuously. I could feel my cheeks blushing. She was looking back at me but did I imaging her beckoning eyes? I was frozen. I just could not move. Stop after stop it went on. My pulse was throbbing with every imagined approach but I felt the pressure at the bottom of an abyss that held me fast completely captivated and in fear. It was agony.

Soon my dread approached and she stood up. She stood upon her heels which were upon the fracture of heaven and hell, we in the hell beneath, and her in the heavens above. Every step she took felt like an anchor rope tearing loose of my grip. I was beneath the threshold and the demons of hell clung to me and wrapped bony hands around my lips.


When the door closed the rope was loosed and like the severed neck of a dragon thrashing its blood upon the deck, the power of our visual embrace was dying. This enraged me and I lifted the deep layers of the world that rested upon my Polaroid One600 and threw my last tenuous hook upon the crumbling landscape. She was the angel among all the butterflies. This photo was all I had, but my life would soon dwell completely upon it. It was the shrine I would kneel to before I ate the bread of the day.

http://th01.deviantart.com/fs15/300W/i/2007/016/e/7/Beautiful_Woman_by_isdylanhere.jpg (broken link)



I returned to that route on everyday I could take off. I had to try. Soon there were no days left. After 2 weeks seeing it all slip away, I quite my job as a vascular surgeon and took the only job I could find on that route which was a second shift janitorial job at the factory.


Soon the days went by and still nothing. I began to show her picture to everyone in the area. I knocked on doors, restaurants, shopping malls and every place I could find. Finally I heard a connection. "I think that was a friend of Mario once".

"Where may I find Mario?", I recall asking.
"Here is his last address", he said.

So when I found the address the landlord told me he was in a severe accident and he was in a coma. Soon I found the center where he was.



Everyday I visited and cared for him. I spoke to him, read to him and fed him. I just needed a word, just a clue. Years went by and just as I had begun to lose all hope he whispered. "..kkkKendra..Kendra." Soon I had a name and an address. I burned the trail through the dark woods of what had become my life and met her mother that day. Finally she would be mine. Her mother calmly told me where to find her assuming we knew each other well. Oh, that I did.




It did not occur to me how much time had gone by or how she would react to our separation by turning to prostitution and meth. We still enjoy each others company but its not the same. The ordeal took its toll on me as well and I have congestive heart failure and I am not allowed to be intimate. We enjoy doing cross word puzzles together and playing bingo on Saturday evening.

[SifuPhil]

Your uncle was a lucky man, to have stepped up to Heaven that way and...

...

What the hell am I saying? He had a jones for a meth ho.

...although that pic of her is kinda' hot.

The second one, I mean.