Living With a Woman

During the course of my life, over some 45 years I "lived with" more than one woman. And this of course was in a sexual not roommate sort of way. These women were all attempts at permanent relationships on my part, and for the most part ended in failure.

I lived with a beautiful, troubled woman in Traverse City -- who had just come off a horrible relationship (and an abortion) and needed "closeness and comforting." I was that guy for her. I also helped her by paying for some of her Master's Degree, where she promptly "fell in love" with one of her teachers -- and left me, crying, but with little damage. The "signs of the breakup" had been there for months -- and meeting her bitterly divorced parents helped to destroy the then "us."

There were other besides Margaret (Peggy). They were more short term and might even fall into the category of "dating." There was Helen (ballet dancer who pursued me between other lovers); and Kathy (public radio new director) for whom I was the "breakthrough guy"; and Kathy (the medical technologist) who wanted me, but only on her terms; and Joyce (first love) who only wanted to be married. I loved all these women, each in their turn. But never felt the pull I had with dear She -- who
would become my wife, my friend, and my tragic partner.

There were even others for whom I was a lover -- but tragically not a husband. I let dear Kate escape me -- because of the differences we had due to age. And Kathryn, and Kristine, and even more. There were some others whom I pursued -- in vain. And now, when I am not quite done living, there doesn't seem to be anyone left. Am I wrong, again?    

Resist, resist, resist!!!