Passion

For us writers, everything in life is a drama - something to record on paper. And there's no better literary fodder than falling in love. It especially gets better when the love is one-way, in total vain, with no chance of winning. There is something beautiful and noble about that.

So there I was, a young junior in college, so totally obsessed with a girl I met in economics class. I was caught in her web, in total vain. From January 1981 to May 1982, it was up and down, on again off again, but mostly down. On May 26, 1982 it was WAY down. I was totally devastated — my heart had been ripped right out of my chest. I never recovered and never will, although I married someone else the next year. The pain never goes away, and maybe I don't want it to. Maybe I thrive on those emotions — not the love, but the noble idea of the suffering. I am the knight who would never get the damsel.

I thought of it like Erwin Rommel, the Desert Fox, trying to outmaneuver and outflank, and trying to win. I tried everything to make her mine. I played hard to get (that always works on TV), I dated others, I was coy, I was a friend, I was a brother, I was a martyr.

And she would torture me. Just when I thought I was over it and could move on, she would call me at work or at a friend's house. She would leave notes on my car. I would run into her. Yes, you guessed it, she was the cat and she played with my heart until it died.

I later learned that my friend Jamie and several other guys were victims, probably all at once. To escape the pain, I played video games like Space Invaders and Caligula for hours.

Then there was more mental trauma. I started going to her church where they spoke in tongues and used religion like cocaine. It was weird, but for her I would do it.

Dangling ever close, then so far away. It really can do permanent mental damage. All the traumas in life, the loss of loved ones, near-death experiences — those are nothing. It's the lost love that tears you apart.

It was May 26, 1982 and for hours, I stared at the phone waiting for her to call. This time I was not going to call her — I had to get over this madness. So, I waited for hours and the phone never rang. I waited the next day, and then the next, and I soon realized that she was never going to call. It was good in a way, but it was bad because it hurt. Five months earlier I was thinking of marriage, but the whole thing unraveled. No amount of meticulous planning could save it.

I had always believed that if you wanted something bad enough, you could get it. I was wrong. I believed if you prayed hard enough, you would get it (of course, it's not fair to ask God to make someone fall in love with you - that's Cupid's job).

It took me seven months to recover. One day in October 1982 I saw her car in traffic — I recognized the rainbow decal on her back window. That just sunk me into a deep depression. By December I was over it and began to move on with my life. What a learning experience! If we only had the same passion for our ideals that we have for our love affairs, I think things would be much better.







Ode to the Phone That Never Rang

The song that got me through it:
Someone Save My Life Tonight, Elton John
Album: Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy

It’s four o’clock in the morning,
Damn it listen to me good.
I’m sleeping with myself tonight
Saved in time, thank God my music’s still alive.