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Camera Man and other Relationship Revelations: A Short Story

Chapter Five: But wait! Here was a blip on my screen!

I went home and showered.  I watched the sand and the stress of the last few minutes of the day wash down the drain.  I was renewed.


We went to dinner and listened to local musicians singing and picking.  Our conversation throughout the relatively short evening was about his article and my website.  He did, however, talk some about his marriage, his children, and his puzzlement.  Never did he say a negative word. 


I listened, in silence, knowing that any comment could be perceived as possible encouragement.


As the evening ended, he thanked me for the tour.  He would keep me informed about the article and we would keep in touch.  He also thanked me for my honesty.


I simply said, “Thank you.”


I went home excited that I had learned so much more about my community, ecstatic that I could share it with someone who valued it as I did, and at peace:  I made myself clear without offending the Camera Man.   


I went to sleep that night with the satisfaction that he would write an excellent article and my business would be a part of it.  It had been a great day.


The next morning, I woke at 5:30, as usual.  I made some coffee, a little breakfast and got ready for my morning tennis.  “Another beautiful day in paradise,” as I always say.  But, gradually, this unidentified feeling began rising up in my stomach.  I felt tired, weird, sluggish, queasy, and, weepy.  Maybe I was getting a cold.  But, weepy?  That didn’t seem right.


To my consternation, I wasn’t sick, I was upset!  I was emotional.  I was sad!  Why?  Those feelings stirred, until I was able to define them.  It took some time, but here was the sequence of thoughts:


I am a very happy person.  I’m never lonely.  I do what I want when I want.  I have friends I enjoy spending time with and I value my alone time.  I do not wont for a relationship with a man.  It simply doesn’t enter my mind. I have magic in my life.   My life is full! 


I can count on ONE hand how many men I have met in the last ten years who I have been attracted to and who are also interested me.  It just doesn’t happen.  And, I’m totally fine with that.


But wait, here was a blip on my screen:  the Camera Man!  And, to add insult to injury, he seemed to embody all those wonderful attributes that I value in a man.  We all agree that those type males are few…at least, few in my world as I have lived it.  And, oh, by the way, he is married.  Ker plunk! 


Deal with THAT, Dr. Independent Woman!


Oh, cruel world!  Why, why did this happen to me?


Is it the universe telling me that I’m fooling myself…that I’m covering up this desire to have a relationship with a man?   Is this happiness I think I feel every day, just crap!  And covering over deep denial?  Is my phenomenology mere fabrication? 


My thoughts were topsy turvey.  I was on the edge of tears most of the time and when I wasn’t on the edge, I cried.  Then, of course, I was enraged for wallowing in self pity.  I floundered in this amalgamation all damn day.


For the first time, again, I envied the couple embracing and looking longingly into one another’s eyes on the Viagra commercials on television.  I longed for someone, anyone, to caress my hand like that handsome older gentleman does with the sweet, gray-haired and sexy woman on the Cymbalta commercial. 


And, note, I’m no twit.  Married men are huge heart aches.  Plus, they can’t hold your hand at the restaurant, they can’t join you with your friends for a game of cards, they can’t spend the holidays with you.  These are all the things I would want, if, if indeed, I wanted a man in my life.


I don’t.  Been there, done that.  On the extremely rare occasion that I am attracted in a man, he’s either married…or he’s limited.  Yep, it’s true.  If one is attracted to me, he’s either married or he’s limited.


The good news is that I worked all through this…granted, it required a full day, but I did get to the other side. 

Click HERE for Chapter Six: Thank you, Camera Man.

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