The Side Effects of Love

The confusion I’m feeling at this moment is unlike any other I’ve dealt with in the past. Usually, when I have a relationship or sexual woe, I storm the kitchen, raid the fridge, and play Golden Girl to a large hunk of Sara Lee’s finest. It may seem a bit overdone, but trust me, there’s a good reason for that….most of the time, it’s successful.

But on this evening, an evening I had not prepared for, I find myself with a whole cheesecake in the fridge, and I’m not even interested. Now, I know what you’re thinking. A problem Frank can’t figure out? Say it isn’t so. But it is. And here it is. This evening, the old and forgotten thirty something named Kevin stumbled back into my life to remind me of all the fun I had being he’s concubine. Beseeching me to hang out with him, to allow him a window into my life, the father of three exhausted the better part of my shift at the hotel this evening, forcing me down memory lane.

Initially, I thought the visit had something to do with my justified disappearance from the Barn Project, but as I soon discovered, this aging, unshaven incubus had other matters to discuss. Matters of the heart, he said. For what seemed like days, I heard, “I miss you. I need you in my life,” and all the while I’m channeling the lyrics of that old 50s song, “What in the World’s Come Over You.” I mean honestly, does he expect the tired old “I can’t be without you” shit to work?

Whether sincere or sincerely full of crap, this guy is still married. Yes, it was wrong of me to delve into a relationship like this, but as the self proclaimed King of Imploding Relationships of the Past, I wanted the adoration. I wanted the attention. And what I got….well, that was a heavy heart and a guilty conscience.

I’m not condoning or speaking out against behavior such as this, for we are all slaves to our passions at one time or another. But after a while, I can’t stand the thought of possibly ruining someone else’s life. I can’t the thought of bringing the pain to their doorstep that was once brought to mine. I’m sure Kevin doesn’t have a conscience, for if he does it can’t be much of one.

Several times now, I’ve caught a glimpse of his truck on the way home from Greencastle, parked in his favorite fucking spot just before Exit 16. I thought of questioning him tonight, of prying the truth from his greasy little fingers, but I realized something. The exhausted words he’d use to formulate a speech wouldn’t convince me otherwise. I’ve never been able to believe a word he says.

So I guess what I’m feeling isn’t confusion after all. It’s anger. I’m all trying to Faith Hill this shit and say, “Let me let go,” but he’s glomming onto me like a tick on a slow moving hound dog. Whatever was there in the past, it isn’t there now. Frank Hardy is better and worth more than being someone’s play toy or someone’s favorite used to be.

His selfish days are over, and hopefully, in taking the necessary time away from the dating circuit, I will be able to reevaluate everything. I’ve already come so far, but like the rest of the world, I’ve still got a long way to go. Hey, at least I’m on the road. I just wish I could find a remedy for the side effect of love and relationships. The bloating. The headaches. The constant rectal pain.

Doesn’t sound like something Advil can handle, and so, I’ll finish this glass of wine instead and toast to the undoing of it all. Here’s to starting fresh. Here’s to terrific sex, and to Kevin’s stupid wife who’s not gonna get any.