make room for daddy

another of my mother's maxims was "don't fall in love with a man like your father." to my little girl eyes, he certainly seemed preferable to my stepfather -- an irascible curmudgeon with emphysema who was much closer in age to my grandmother. my father, on the other hand, was quick-witted, independent, inquisitive, carried a humorous and encyclopedic knowledge of many things (excellent training for my later role as raconteur), traveled extensively, and as an actor lived a very non-traditional lifestyle with *peculiar* hours and soho (pre-gentrification) friends. he took me to see eugene o'neill plays and shakespeare in the round. "west side story" on the big screen. (he cried!) we listened to sam cook and sun ra. we flew kites and went to europe.

i grew older, his narcissism and selfishness became more apparent to me. the looming financial obligation of college sent him into exile, and we began to lead a life of protracted silences.

in psych 101 i learned men marry their mothers. ack! i was too clever by half to succumb to my female equivalent! in animal behavior, i learned about imprinting and felt a twinge of anthropomorphic sympathy for lorenz's little geese.

my primary b/f through college was emotionally reticent, but i easily chalked that up to his laconic yankee nature. various partners came and went, and even i saw the pattern of me feeling more comfortable being held at a bit of an emotional distance. well, let's say, i recognized its mirror image of feeling suffocated if a man wanted to get too close. if, during dinner, he sat next to me on the banquette, instead of across the table, there was no second date.

many men, many years. those of any duration carried common traits, like wit and brains. they were all tall and mostly dark. they kept themselves at sufficient remove to keep me on my toes. never once did i foresee forever. not with a one.

midway through my 20s, i discovered quite by accident, that my father had a son and had been living with him and the mother since i was 15. right around the time talk of my upcoming tuition and his subsequent freak-out. unbeknownst to me, he had made a mental delineation of where he felt his financial and emotional obligations more truly belonged. there could be no further duality.

late in my 30s, i became involved with the *gentleman caller*. with seemingly little psychological fanfare, we both put aside the intrusive reality of his wife and children. he drew the lines of personal priority and i happily agreed to remain behind the one assigned to me. it was intense, it was boundless and sometimes terrifying. it was not the short-term fiery arc these things usually turn out to be. devotion grew, committment deepened. enthralled, i never felt stronger, or more free.

part of my *place* was to accept. his way, or no way. i understood that as an internal obligation to keep my mouth shut. some things if spoken of would blow down the house of cards with a mere whisper. did i cry over them? yes, but always alone.

almost immediately, he intuited my greatest and darkest fear was to be abandoned. soon, he admitted he knew my harshest fear was to be abandoned by him. i could not deny it. it became a powerful weapon in our dances of emotional sadism and psychological masochism.

as our time together progressed, i realized with absolute certainty i'd fallen in love with my father. yup, all the good stuff that made us laugh and crave each other's company. but also the tragic flaws whose manifestations i most desperately feared.

through consistently fierce psychological battering, he finally made me see forever. i saw it. and it was wonderful. i wanted it. i believed we would have it. not the picket fence kinda forever (he had that *over there* anyway)but just the right kind for me. for us.

no surprise to you, gentle reader, but the man most like my father is gone. he has closed tight the loop of the noose of exclusion and i'm left gasping for air. i'm repudiated, denied, minimized. he convinces her it meant nothing. four years of nothing. convenience. that's all it was. of no more consequence than a drive-through happy meal.

if i believed in portents, i'd be petrified right now. within minutes, the sky has grown black and a deluge of rain falls. but i'm no savage. i *do* know it won't rain forever. and i've still got the sense to own an umbrella.