Visiting Debbie

You all remember that it was a good three years ago — more, really — that Debbie broke up with me. It's been over a year and a half that I've been with Marie (though we still live a thousand miles apart). All that is a done deal. 

But I never got fed up with Debbie, the way I did with Wife or D, and from time to time I drop her a quick note, wishing her a happy birthday or the equivalent. And a month or so ago, I got a note back telling me she had recently moved (to be near her daughter and son-in-law) to a town in the next state over from Sticksville. "Stop by the next time you're in the area."

I'm writing this from a hotel in Sticksville right now. I'm here on work. But I built my travel schedule so I'd have time to visit as well. Marie knew I'd be visiting Debbie, and I had promised her nothing "unseemly" would happen ... by which I more or less meant we weren't going to fuck, or do anything else she had grounds to be jealous of. She didn't complain, though she did thank me for telling her right away and not hiding it.

I drove out to Debbie's place yesterday morning (Saturday). I got back to my hotel today (Sunday) about noon. I just finished sending Marie an email about what I did the rest of today, which I closed with the following paragraph:

As for my visit with Debbie, I'm treading a little cautiously just because I don't know how much you want to know. Certainly there was nothing unseemly, ... as promised. A light, chaste kiss when I arrived, another when I left — the kind of kiss your grandmother could give you and not attract attention — that's about as steamy as it got. The conversation could all have been printed in the newspaper without embarrassing anybody. We saw the sights and caught up with each other's news. I could spin the story out longer if you wanted — I'm sure you have confidence in that! 😀 But maybe you're not interested in more, knowing that the fundamentals are safe. You tell me.

And as far as it goes, that's more or less true. Which sounds a little remarkable. Really? Ex-lovers getting along like civilized adults and keeping their hands to themselves the whole time? Gosh, how mature we must both be!

And ... yeah. Sure. All of that.

Well, OK, strictly speaking there were maybe one or two more kisses than that, but they were all perfectly chaste. They may not have been quite grandmotherly, just because your grandmother probably never kissed you on the lips; but other than that they were perfectly demure. A light hug or two — well, yeah, but lots of people hug. None of the physical contact could ever have led any farther; we were both too careful for that. 

"Too careful" .... At one point when we were out and about we were standing next to each other and our hands gravitated automatically to each other ... and both of us twisted them out of the way just before they clasped. That told me we were both very conscious of Not Doing Anything Sexual. And of course we could never have been so conscious of deliberately avoiding any sexual signaling if we hadn't both been thinking about it all the time. (I know I was.)

True, I spent the night ... but I slept in a guest room. Besides, the drive from Sticksville to Debbie's place was three and a half hours each way. It would have been crazy to do the round trip in one day.

True, we spent the afternoon visiting covered bridges in the area — covered bridges that have become a major tourist attraction for lovers (like Niagara Falls used to be). But that's just because that's what's there to see. Those bridges just happen to be local. 

And true, one of the bridges had a guest book, where Debbie wrote; "Debbie and Hosea were here. We came from [my home state, 2000 miles away] to see the bridge." Then she laughed and said, "Well, it's not quite true, but close enough." But you don't have to interpret that romantically. Do you?

And all that is little shit. It gets more serious, because we cooked dinner together. We washed dishes together. In the morning we meditated together and then fixed breakfast together. There's intimacy for you. Who needs sex to be intimate, when you can work together in the same kitchen, picking up and handing off tasks smoothly and conveniently?

When I left, Debbie said she had really enjoyed my visit and we'd have to do it again next time. I agreed, and this time my voice didn't catch in my throat. I gave her a hug and a kiss and drove away as she left for church.

None of this diminishes my relationship with Marie in any way. The people who preach emotional exclusivity just have their facts wrong. I used to be one of them, so I know it's not easy to see. But it's so.

We're not lovers any more, Debbie and I, and I assume we never will be again. But I'll always love her.

Sent from my iPhone