Hammock connected to palm trees on a lazy beach
For this Valentine’s Day week I wrote up short sketches of the seven girls I have loved. This is the sixth.

For its length and intensity,
my relationship with her is perhaps the most difficult
to attempt to sketch.

It was certainly her youth I was initially attracted to,
yet her refusal to part with that youth when necessary
led me to endless frustrations.

I tread lightly here.

It took me a year or two to forgive her for her actions.
I was certainly to blame for things going foul as well.

Under the spell of the make-believe world in which we met,
appearances ruled the day.
With reality swept under the rug,
anything could exist for both of us,
but neither knew what the other wanted or needed.

Yet, over the course of several years,
things were rarely smooth for any longer than a few days at a time.
Our notions of what “love” meant
and our past relationship to that word
were clearly divergent.

Her severely strained relations with her father
left me often feeling more of a father figure than a boyfriend.

The fissures between us only grew and grew while we were together,
occasionally coming to a head with outbursts
from the both of us.

We never had honest communications, which would have altered the entire relationship.

It needed to end long before it did,
but the method in which it did was horrible.

Several years later I wrote her, seeking closure.
She answered right away,
saying I had nothing to feel bad about.

As I understand it, she is on and off with the boy she got together with
while we were still living together and is pursuing her career.

I wish her well.