Recollecting Love

The exercise to determine if my past loves had anything in common was a real eye-opener. I couldn’t believe how few memories I was able to conjure, particularly about the sex. Obviously the more recent the encounters were, the more clear the recollections. And those that were unusual in some way — location, circumstances, etc. — had a better chance of being indelibly seared onto my grey matter. Yet although it was tough accessing what the sex was like, just thinking about each of these men brought back the way I felt about them. Vividly.

I can clearly recall the particular brand of passion I felt for each individual person. In other words, while the loins may not recall the lovemaking, the heart most certainly remembers the love. In the book “On Love,” the general takeaway was that falling in love requires a certain suspension of disbelief. Among other things. Including an involuntary loss of control. Even now, I can still almost feel each loss of control that was required to fall in love with each of these men. I remember the heartaches, too. And all the songs that made me cry once I’d broken up with them. It’s bizarre how much emotion is trapped in our psyches. Perhaps it’s time for some psychic spring cleaning to make way for new emotions! (Okay, sorry. Didn’t mean to get all “om shanti” on you guys! It just felt sorta poetic…) And now, for a little listen to my musical psychic memories:

J1: Almost anything by Elton John, plus Led Zeppelin II, Ziggy Stardust and Dark Side of the Moon…
J2: Yes: Time and a Word
B: Phil Collins: Against All Odds
M: I can’t remember any for him! : ( I’m sure it was something awful and early 90s…
E: Soul Asylum: Somebody to Shove
J3: Praise Cats featuring Andrea Love: Shined On Me
J4: The Flaming Lips:  Do You Realize


11 responses to “Recollecting Love

  1. A decent post?

  2. J1, huh?

    Hmmmmmmm . . .

    I remember a dark blue ’70 Plymouth Road Runner . . . with an Air Grabber scoop that would open and close on the hood with the push of a button on the dashboard . . . a painting on the trunk . . . tattoo . . . heart with a crown of thorns . . . knife stabbed through it . . . Saturday Night Is Alright for Fighting . . . Man! . . . the stares we got driving from Los Altos to the Florida panhandle . . .

    She (and you know who she is) and I made love, then cried afterwards, before I left with him on our epic journey . . . She knew before me that it was over between us . . . And when I came back . . . it was never the same . . .

    Just writing all of this down, even now, some thirty-seven years later, damn near breaks my heart . . . missing her . . . and him . . . and MF . . . and PF . . . hell, the shole F clan . . . for that matter, the whole Los Altos gang . . . and those times . . . honest to God . . . the best of my life . . . I wish I was back in them now . . . on the lam, hiding out in the pool house behind your family’s house . . .

    Glad you are still in my life, Abby . . . Thanks for the memories . . . and for being my friend . . .

    • Make that “whole F clan,” not “shole F clan” . . . Damned English major! . . . ;-)> . . .

    • Sometimes just hearing a song or catching a particular scent…even now the smell of rosemary reminds me of when we would jump into the rosemary bushes along Los Altos Ave. on those nights we would sneak out. Yup, so many memories still with me. I can’t believe that Mark and Michael are gone. It doesn’t seem possible…or right. I’m grateful that my whole life has been pretty fuckin’ awesome!

  3. The kid I rent a room from out here in Austin just brought a Star Jasmine plant back from his grandparents in Laredo. I remember riding my motorcycle down San Antonio Av. in late Spring when they were all in bloom on the median . . . the air balmy . . . so heady the fragrence of it, it was like being in a dream even then . . . and all the more so now . . .

    Sometimes I think I idealize those days . . . then I contemplate them objectively and come to the conclusion that, “No! I am not looking through rose colored glasses at them! They were amazing!” All the things we did . . . just the freedoms we had that no longer exist . . .

    Now . . . I feel that every day is another in an indeterminate sentence . . . What the fuck happened? . . .

    Oh well . . . dust myself off and keep hitting it . . . What the hell else can I do? . . .

    . . . 😉 . . .

    • Ah yes, the scent of jasmine also takes me back. As for comparing the present to the past…well, being an adult isn’t nearly as free as childhood and we were fortunate to grow up in a time when it was still okay to run around the way we did. No play dates or planned fun, just the freedom to explore and experience. Rose colored glasses? Yes, but their view is still pretty accurate!

  4. Meet me at the Wastelot and we’ll talk some more . . . and bring that good looking side kick of yours along . . . the one who made me aware for the first time in my young male life that the middle posterior of a woman’s anatomy has as much, if not more, to offer as her thoracic anterior . . . 😉 . . .

  5. After reading your blogs on past loves it made me think of mine. The little things like walking the beach holding hands after a morning of passionate unbridled lovemaking. Or hugging your mate during a special love song at a live concert.
    or when you are both trashed and helping eachother along the crooked path home.
    young carefree 20-somethings are just distant memories. We hear the songs of the 80s and 90s and remember where we were and with who.
    Wow I need a drink. That’s for realistically reminiscing and making us think Editrix Abby.

  6. Thanks for reading (and commenting), Dave, but some of my memories are far more recent than the 80s or 90s. There’s no need to be young to be carefree or 20-something to enjoy any of the above!

  7. Well my last two relationships ended on a really lousy note, one nearly harassed me to death, and the most recent girlfriend couldn’t make a commitment (although I still care for her) and have fond memories.
    I seem to have more fun nowadays just going out and leaving the romance on the shelf.

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