MORE OF THE STORY
1. Jan and I met in 1984 while I was hospitalized, post-amputation. I was often whooped up on narcotics; she had recently married Cris. Hardly a suitable context for romance but she and I clearly hit it off as friends. Over the next few years we happened to meet around Miami, just often enough that we remembered each other.
Fast forward to sometime in probably 2002 or 2003. Jan called Peace Education for info on training. She didn't know that I worked there. By chance I took the call. We both recognized each other’s voice and name. We started e-mailing, still just as friends (not "FRIENDS, wink wink").
Turns out that she and Cris lived near me. I ran into them a few times nearby at Continental Park, where they walked their dogs and I did my racewalking and jogging. Jan and I began doing occasional lunches. In spring 2005, she and Cris even joined Patty and me for a couple of social occasions.
2. June 2005: My euphoria with Patty took a sudden drastic downward turn. Just as I'd routinely shared with Jan and other close friends details of that romance while it was fresh and exhilarating and full of life, now I confided in those friends just as thoroughly for their support in the steadily encroaching bleakness and decay (Patty would finally sever our relationship in October). Jan likewise began relating some of her own concerns: profound problems, long hidden, had recently surfaced in her marriage.
We continued helping each other through these things via e-mails and lunches, now every few weeks. Still just friends.
In December, while I visited family in Birmingham, I read an e-mail from Jan: her marriage was effectively over. Only the logistics of the divorce remained. As she'd begun to piece this together several months earlier, she’d already gone through the worst of her own grieving. I empathized and understood.
We'd grown much closer. I knew I could trust Jan as an honest, open, intelligent, sensible, and thoughtful woman. Yet given the circumstances, I still saw us as just very, very good friends.
3. I didn’t see this next bit coming. Really. I didn’t. (Duh.)
January 5, 2006. At lunch Jan reiterated what she'd told me about her marriage having dead-ended. Then came the twist as she said, “I’ve been thinking about this a lot as this has fallen apart over the last few months. I figured that if I did ever want to date again, out of all the men I know, I can think of only one I’d be even interested in.”
Donning my Captain Oblivious cape, I asked,
“Oh? Who?” —
Jan paused a bit. Then she said, “Well—you.”
“Oh,” I say.
Wait for it—wait for it—
(feel a very awkward silence here)
“OHHhhhh.”
I suddenly flew through several shades of ambivalence, from ecstasy to apprehension, brushing along all points inbetween and many off to the sides. Nothing wrong with her, I emphasized; I just wondered if it was too soon for us.
The next 15-20 minutes bumped along awkwardly as we weaved in and out of this. I told Jan I needed a little time to think.
4. I can’t adequately describe the whirlwind that I went through over the next couple of days, but it quickly brought several facts all close together so that I could see them collectively. The main points:
I’ve known Jan for over 20 years. When we began refreshing the friendship a few years ago, it already felt lush, elegant, wrapped in velvety swaths of trust and comfort.
She knows all my issues; I know almost as much about her. And given our thorough ongoing discussions from recent months—particularly given the duress of the context—we know pretty much everything on what we care deeply about in a committed relationship, what we want, what we'll give.
Both of us are very straightforward with our own weaknesses and flaws. More significantly, we know in ourselves and each other far more strengths, most of which we also share—in particular, honesty, truthfulness, trust and trustworthiness. We have ample common ground on the real fundamentals.
Jan and I are equally open, transparent, WYSIWYG: what you see
is what you get. We're
outgoing, gregarious, social; emotionally and verbally expressive;
caring, warm, cuddly. We
hit the high stanines on ad lib playfulness—and a very similar
sense of humor. |
 |
Our professional lives reflect our personal outlooks. Both of us have deliberately pursued careers in which we aim to help make at least some part of the world a little more caring and compassionate, a little less callous and cynical.
We care intensely, and enthusiastically, about a similar worldview. Life's a process, not a product. We'd rather explore the lingering questions than fall back on the presumed stability of answers. We celebrate our existence on our own terms, not those of dogma or superstition. "Meaning," if any such stuff ever exists in life, or in beliefs, or values, comes to surface only from what we create or impute to it by how we treat ourselves and others, how we learn and love, how we pursue the good and uplifting and enriching, or sometimes at the very least make a stand against ignorance, injustice and arrogance (even when they prevail). Each of us takes an active role in our respective church homes (Jan's, Chuck's) where we can share and act on these and related ideals in what we consider a socially responsible and intellectually honest manner.
Neither of us has any illusions about the world's existential core; we simply find in ourselves a persistent optimism (that even we don't completely understand). We don't let our recent histories shut us off from the present or the future. As Bishop Daisy said in Le Roi de coeur:
"We have decided to be happy—and nothing can stop us!"
Sure, he was a lunatic; save that point for later. Key point here: our recent breakups actually help us even more vividly appreciate the extravagance of what we do share.
5. I didn’t have all these details explicitly clear in front of me right then over that weekend. And I did ponder carefully the major logistical and pragmatic challenges. Still I could see clearly that everything here indicated to me some facet of this: We share so many bedrock views and values; we mesh so well in the friendship already. I'd be crazy to brush this off. Maybe we're ready, maybe not. But this looks too, too good to let it just drift away.
You may be right. I may be crazy. And we just may be the lunatics we're looking for—
I resolved to call Jan Monday to suggest that we do lunch on Tuesday. I’d affirm that, some uncertainty notwithstanding, I felt up for it. I'd go into it as fully, as sincerely, as I do with most things I care about strongly.
Monday morning, Jan called me first. She began to pull back, apologizing for having put me on the spot. I realized: “Ohhh, she’s embarrassed. She thinks I don’t want to do this. OH—NO.” So I quickly said, “Wait, wait—look, this isn't good on the phone. Let’s talk this over face to face. How about lunch tomorrow?” She agreed.
When we met I promptly said, “OK—let’s give it a few weeks to see how it feels. And if, say, after 30 days, we find for whatever reason it’s just not working, either of us can back out, full refund, no receipt necessary, no questions asked.”
I did ask that we promptly visit an LCSW with whom I have a long-term professional relationship, who knew all my circumstances in depth, to see if she might point out any significant issues that we didn't already consciously recognize. Jan's immediate willingness to join me there confirmed even more for me her genuineness, her willingness to deal openly with issues. (Jan had also discussed this with her own therapist; he also thought it was great that she chose to move ahead. And suffice it to say that we were both already way ahead of the curve in terms of anticipating and responding to the issues.)
An early exchange of e-mails led to one of our favorite motifs: whatever our challenges, we're happy and hopeful ("H&H").
6. Still I thought: Would I get emotionally enmeshed only to find the divorce drawn out, too frustrating, maybe even futile? Would she and Cris reconcile? Would this self-destruct?
Risk? Yes, of course. Tremendous risk.
A couple of friends, very concerned for me over the last few months, did tactfully point out such hazards. I appreciated their active interest in my well-being. I did see all too clearly that this might eventually become a slow-motion train wreck.
Life offers no guarantees. Period.
When I considered what I stood to gain, I deemed this well worth the risk.
Already I could feel so very strongly that Jan embodied many things substantially unlike probably any other person I’d ever known, certainly in any intimate relationship. This seemed to resonate in such pure, clear tones. This blend of twenty years' friendship and recent months' increasingly intricate sharing, looked outrageously wonderful. It deserved an opportunity.
We took off not just flying, but soaring smoothly, elegantly, gliding in and out of clouds. This all felt, and still feels, supremely natural, fluid, silky-smooth, easy. In a paradox that I savor particularly because it pokes rationality in the ribs, it started off perfect and keeps getting better.
Within a couple of weeks, Jan had begun the divorce. Her attorney suggested that it might come through by, say, September—if everything went well.
Every few weeks, about the time I’d begin to feel a little uncertain over where things stood, Jan would volunteer updates. The scattered patches of uncertainty evaporated as the divorce was finalized in August. Earlier than expected.
Jan’s attorney told her, “Divorces never go this smoothly.” That perspective continues to reflect the everyday realities of this, for both of us.
7. Early on, we agreed pragmatically that if we should decide this would work, we wanted to make it happen sooner rather than later. So we continue building this firmly on our broad and deep array of affirmatives. The good news: the pleasures and treasures simply create so much delight, they become the dominant frame of reference for everything else. Circumstances actually help us keep the small stuff in the small stuff place. (Ask either of us what Jan told her women's group about the parsley.)
Whatever else may happen, whenever, we feel tremendously, profoundly thankful for every moment we do have. We're making the best of here and now. What more can any person, any couple, ever do?
So we’re just fiercely, fabulously thrilled. Happy and hopeful. Really.