As a rule, recycling is a lousy idea.
At least when it comes to relationships.
Let’s face it. Generally relationships end for very good reason, and while we humans tend to romanticize those affairs and connections of the past, remembering only those beautiful moments fit for soft-focus camera close-ups, the truth is that when two people don’t get along – for whatever reason – oftentimes it’s due to innate parts of who they are. And people don’t change.
Or do they?
I like to think that people don’t change *who* they are, but can certainly change *how* they are in the world. Meaning that the core sense of my personality is what it is, and has been baked in that way pretty much since puberty, but the behaviors I display and the way in which I move through the world is something wholly under my control to adapt, amend and – when need be – alter.
What, you may ask, was the catalyst for such philosophic prattle on a Sunday morning?
It is Pride Weekend here in San Francisco and, as so often seems to be the case with this weekend, I had an encounter last night that gives rise to an obligatory review of my take on relationships.
My plans were simple. I’d spent the day in Dolores Park with my dear friend Christina Saint-Laurent, her partner Jude and their pals at the annual Dyke Day picnic. As the park got crowded, I made my way home and to the gym with the plans to meet up with my pal Beth and some others at 2223 Market around 9pm.
I, of course, was late and so dashed into the front door figuring they’d already be seated. Not only had they not arrived (and as it turned out, they would not show up at all, as some sort of “drama” struck the group earlier in the evening and they disbanded before getting to 2223) … but when I stepped through the door and began to look around, I found myself looking into a pair of ever-so-familiar green eyes.
My heart stopped.
Well, more like it stuttered, staggered and then began a rapid staccato that was all-too-familiar.
There are people who pass through our lives. There are others whose souls seem inextricably linked to ours by some sort of cosmic connection.
This relationship was one of short duration (only about five months), and that was 10 years ago … but for some reason static electricity lingers.
It leaves me thinking about what that means in my life … what is it that I have yet to learn and once learned where will I go?