Scorpio Mancalled me a few days later; among the things I remember him saying were “I love you” and “I can’t believe you’re still talking to me” and “Let’s reschedule!” So I rebooked my flight for the new date he suggested; the airline charged a $125 cancellation fee. A few days later,Scorpio Mancanceled again.Only this time, he didn’t bother to send an email; this time, he messaged me on Facebook:
“I guess I’m not feeling the same thing I once was, or thought I was.”
I thought I heard my heart crack; I swallowed two of Sheba’s hawthorn capsules LINK just in case to fortify that important organ, because I didn’t want to let mypackdown for their evening walk byexpiring atthe computer.
A few days after that, I heard from him again. There were lots of I love yous and I miss yous. We settled into a routine of texting and, occasionally, talking.
In late August, I desperately needed a vacation; after years of doing legal battle with a landlord who would stop at nothing to get his rent-stabilized Manhattan flat back so he could jack up the rent to the going market rate, I could fight no more. The stress of clearing outthat bigplaceand preparing to moveinto much smaller digs, in a completely unfamiliar part of New York far from everything I knew, almost finished me.
Happily, a friend invited me to come stay with him at the beach house he’d been hired to sit; there would be threesweet, rescued dogs LINK and gourmet meals and much-needed R&R and a singalong at Sunday church service, where my friend was in the choir. There was just one catch: I’d be in Scorpio Man’s home state.
It’s a big state, andmy destinationwas two and a half hours due DIRECTIONAL from Scorpio Man. I was afraid to let him know I was coming lest he become scared and boltagain. But his attraction for me was just irresistible. So,I arrived, relaxed for a couple of days, gathered up my courage – and texted him.
He was glad to hear from me; we spoke by phone. Then came the back-and-forth Facebook messages: I love you. I’ve missed you. So good to hear your voice. CHECK Could you add me on Facebook? Sure, I replied; did not realize you’d un-Friended me. He wrote, “A fit of pique – sorry! Silly, I know.” We became Facebook friends once again – but more important, to my mind, was the fact that we’d never really stopped being actual friends – and aimed to finally meet that Thursday. I’ve always believed that true love really doesn’t die. Here was my proof.
My driving skills were rusty, and although I’d rented a car topractice in (my friend intrepidly offered me master driving classes), I was simply not up to the challenge of navigating the notorious superhighways of the stateI wasin – especially considering the, um,state I was in. I tried to find a ride; no luck.Scorpio Manwas disappointed; I was beyond disappointed. We were actually in the same state -yet as far apart asever. I vowed to come back. You promise? He asked. Absolutely, I replied. And I meant it.
I returned to New York City. I collected my dogs, unpacked my bags, and crashed – our first night as a family in our new home. I don’t dream much, but that night I had the most spectacular dream: Scorpio Man and I were holding each other; I loved the way he smelled, the texture of his beautiful skin. I looked into his eyes, and he smiled. The next morning, I filed my column and looked at Facebook, where a new message awaited me.
It was from Scorpio Man, and it was so nasty it took my breath away. It ended like this: TK And, to drive home his point, this time he didn’t just un-Friend me – he blocked me. I’d never been blocked before, and even though it happens privately, between two people, it’s surprisingly humiliating, perhaps because it takes place in such a public arena.
For the next three and a half weeks, I operated on autopilot. Some friends told me they were sure I’d hear from Scorpio Man again; I shook my head in disbelief. Other friends told me I’d better hope I wouldn’t hear from Scorpio Man again.
I tried to follow the advice of Sweetie,LINK thelate, great K9 companion of my friend John Bartlett and his ex, Mark Welsh. “Get over … get under.” Only it didn’t work. I joined an internet dating site and proceeded to regale my dates – yep, even the exceedingly eligible ones – with tales of Scorpio Man. Yes, Dogsters, I officially lost it. Wreck doesn’t quite describe the mess I’d become; walking disaster area was more like it.
During this phase, an ex boyfriend of mine – let’s call him Leo Man – contacted me tosay he’d be in town. We hadn’t seen in other in many years. We got together. Now, Leo Man is – like all Leos – profoundly charismatic, handsome, a red-hotlover, generous, funny, fun, an all-around compelling companion. And you should’ve seen his face as all I could talk about was Scorpio Man. When I got to the part about that last line of his last letter, Leo Man looked positively stricken on my behalf. “That’s mean,” he said.
And then, TK days later, I received an email. “I can’t forget about you.”
“I love you so much. Been bleeding through the heart for days,” I replied.
He texted: “I’m sorry I hurt you” and “I love you” and many more things that made me think I’d died and gone to the Bridge, where every dog I’d ever loved was waiting for me. See? True love never dies, and here was the proof. We spoke on the phone. He said he’d thought long and hard about it, and he didn’t ever want to do that to me again – we would definitely meet, and soon. I was so happy, so relieved; I could breathe again.
He sent me a Friend request on Facebook; I accepted immediately. Everything was going to be OK!Iemailed him the YouTube video of Bob Dylan singing “Emotionally Yours.”
“Thank you, my Love,” he wrote.
That Saturday, we spoke by phone while we were both in bed; my dream of three weeks earlier hadalmost come true. Here we were, alonetogether, enjoying each other’s company, in bed.I could almost feel him and inhale his scent.
I reached out to touch K9 Desiree and K9 Cupcake (K9 Laz and K9 Sheba chose to sleep on the floor that night) anddrifted offto sleep.
My beloved’s birthday was coming up; November 5th was the date. He was turning 46. So, on date TK, I prepared a care package that was sentimental yet practical: To honor the Carl Sandburg poem “Honey and Salt,” I included Manuka Honey LINK and Pink Himalayan Salt, plus a package of FlexPet LINK for his arthritic dog, New Chapter multivitamin supplements for him, and Kiss My Face organic lip balm. I sent the lot via Priority Mail from the post office.
On my way home, I received an email letting me know that one of my high school classmates had been the victim of a freak accident. I Googled her and saw the terrible news – and by now, everyone has heardabout the shopping cart that two 12-year-old boys tossed overthe fourth-floor walkway of a Target parking lot, hitting mother of two Marion Hedges. She was loading Halloween candy for her favorite charity into her car; her own young son was standing by her side (and miraculously, unhurt).
I’ve known Marion since we were in the fifth grade;the thought ofherin a coma left mein shock. “No, No, No,” I cried out loud, bursting into tears. Icalled Scorpio Man. His phone rang and rang; it never went to voicemail. Figuring hemust beon an important call, I hung up. A few hours later, I’d finallyregained my composure and sent him a text about what had happened, and how shattered I was.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied.
And that was the last thing I heard from Scorpio Man. I had a sinking feeling that the next time I’d check Facebook, he wouldn’t show up on my list of Friends. The next day, his profile picturedid show up… for a few seconds. Then it disappeared.
He’d blocked me. Again.
On his birthday, I emailedScorpio Mana poem by e.e. cummings. No response. Had he blocked me on Gmail too? I checked with USPS tracking;his birthdaypackage was delivered on Wednesday at TK a.m. Nice to know that, in an uncertan world, one may still rely on the United States Postal Service. to CHECK MISSION STATEMENT ? Especially now that “Emotionally Yours” and “Maybe I’m Amazed” are both un-listenable for the foreseeable future.
I’d still like to believe that true love never dies, butthat faith is being severely tested. I still love Scorpio Man, but I’m beginning to feel like a first-class idiot. If not for my sweet, adorable dogs, I would’ve long ago forgotten how to laugh. I wish they could talk; they’d doubtless tell me where to stick my misplaced love.
So dear Dogsters, I’m turning to you. I’d be grateful if you would please share advice – or a well-deserved slap upsidemy head – in the comments
