I’m having flashbacks today.

Michael’s on my mind.

Spring is in the air and I find myself longing for love again.

Was Michael love?  I think so.

Love means a lot of things.

I loved him as a fellow human being.

I loved his intelligence the most I think.

I loved his touch and our physical connection.

The energy of our bodies uniting and becoming one.

Not in a sexual union, but truly energy.  It was palpable.

It felt supernatural.  I think it was.

We were on a plane different from others when we came together.

I feel lucky to have experienced the love and the devastating heartbreak

when he faded away.  Or more accurately did the vanishing act.  Poof.

One day he’s there.  All in.  The next, nothing.  Gone.

I realize I was grieving the loss of love.

It felt so good with us, when things had felt

not so good, for so long, in my marriage.  I’m not blaming my ex.  It takes two.

But there had been a deficiency.

That’s what I told Michael that day when he asked me why I was crying

standing in his kitchen as he held me.

He was my second connection since the separation.

The week the divorce was final was the same week he

disappeared.  The same week that Brian, the first, more

realistic love connection, didn’t text back.  He said he wasn’t

comfortable that I wasn’t legally severed yet.

When the deed was done, he was no where to be found.

There was a theme here.  And so much pain.

So many demons of being deserted coming up all at once.

A loss of three men.  Boom.

But, somehow I survived.

Survived.  And learned a lot about myself

in the process.  I learned I was leaning towards men

who could not be there for me emotionally

or physically, as – in person.

Just as I had experienced with my father.

There was a social quality to these men

and the ones I continued to be drawn toward.

A difficulty relating in some fashion.

Often times a mental health issue to go along.

My life coach told me that I would move forward

ignoring any red flags.

I just couldn’t help myself from running

full speed ahead towards love.

That is what I was looking for anyway.

I just wanted to be loved.

And love another.

I have settled my energy over these past three years.

I am more grounded.

I have cultivated more self-love.

But I still want to be loved.

Is that such a bad thing?

I’ve met a man.

It’s been a very long dry spell.  But I’ve been okay.

He’s younger like most of the others.

He’s got it together.

Or so it seems.

Lots of similar interests.

You know, that kind of thing.

But I have learned over these years,

it takes a bit of time to really know someone.

And by then, seems like folks move on.

So I don’t get my hopes up like I used to.

Trying to keep any blips of  excitement in check.

But I remember the feeling.

It feels so good.

And I want it again.

I don’t know what he wants.

If he is looking for love.

You can’t just come out and ask someone that,

Can you?

I think that scares guys away.

At least that’s what they always said

in the love advice I used to read.

So here I am.  Another Sunday afternoon,

alone, with my cat, on this damned cranberry-colored couch

hoping someone will call,

and say,  ‘Come out and play Suzanne.

Come out and play.’

Copyright Suzanne Norton 2018