Sweet Friend,
You’ve just turned forty-eight. You never met the man you thought you’d meet when divorcing. How lonely are you?
Dear Wise Friend,
I’ll ramble yet again.
It is this image of happy and smiley I always have. I feel like this most of the time. I push away the unhappy and the scared one.
Up to now I was wondering how come my wishes and dreams, I mean the romantic ones, never changed. I’m the same little girl always felt to be. I still like luxurious things. However, I know they are not so important any longer. I still dream about the perfect relationship.
When I dance, I live part ofthe dream I want to continue.
I’m here in Ottawa, with my family, a family I find so strange. I cannot communicate with them, as if so much water went under the bridge that I’d not allow myself to love them and I still want to live my dream. I’m not going to be romantic about having good family relations with them. This hurt scares me, too.
Am I really, me about me and only me? Am I?
Back in Boston, I met Richard.I went to a party and I mentioned him to a nice, ancient man who told me “You know intelligent men can take advantage of intelligent women?”
“Intelligent women can do that as well.” The old man petted me on the head: “Take care, think about it well.”
Why while nobody says anything bad about Richard, there is no enthusiasm about him? What shall I make about this comment about his intelligence? Who knows better than me? Intelligent men? Who knows better? Attracted to them forever, though choosing the evil ones among them. Am I doing this again? Shall I be bored and loved? Shall I just keep my interests to myself?
Love and boredom. I could I love. This boring beautiful soul, generous and maybe rich and good in bed, but boring—Where is he? Will I love him?
This is so complicated. We are all lonely from time to time. When that happens I do something. That’s my luck. I do something.
eachword-eachday 