You wanted more and I couldn’t give it to you. I was seeking love, romance, and someone I could be committed to. You simply saw me as a “one-night stand.” Someone you enjoyed being with for an hour, a night, or just one day in the life of two ships like us meeting briefly on a night at sea.
Sea? Hell, we met at a protest of the Limerick power plant outside, Pottstown, PA, some 30 years ago. I was covering the story for the newspaper and we hit it off when I quoted you as a lead protester and got your home phone. I called. You answered the questions I had and then we got together.
You were very sexy, in a hippie sort of a way, if you know what I mean. You were care-free, open and full of laughter in a devil-may care attitude.
I loved being with you!
I was hurting from a divorce after eight years of marriage. I had found solace in an ashram where I tried to learn to mediate and began to follow a guru from India. I sought the love and compassion I believe I could find in the embrace of a good woman.
Sex was good. No it was more than that. It was fulfilling, rich and complete. I didn’t know how much I needed the love I thought came from our coupling. But, it was not to be. I was nothing you had ever wanted as a companion. A Vietnam veteran. Someone who didn’t resist the war, but fought in it. A man with a job with the media, quoting the rich spokesmen for Philadelphia Electric Co. who decided what information to flood the news outlets with. I was part of the establishment, someone you could not relate to or possibly trust to be a lover.
No, I was not what you were looking for.
—–
Not then, But, what about now?
We met again just a week ago. You messaged me that we had dated. I recalled what we meant to each other only today.
And now, I will not rest until I can see you again. See you in a new beginning for a relationship that could last more than an hour, a night or a day in the life of you and me.
Thanks, Mary Catherine. I’ll see you soon!
Contoveros 
Mr. Contoveros, Vic Ellinger was my sister’s husband. Feel free to reach out to me if you like. You can email me. I am also easy to find on Facebook.
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Wow, I finally found a link to my friend and comrade who was killed by a sniper in Vietnam more than 40 years ago.
Thanks Chuck, I’ll contact you via G-mail.
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My dearest friend, Lisa Baxter Horwitz, advised me on Facebook that she had attended the same protest of the Limerick power plant way back when.
We’ve been Buddha buddies for four years, and it truly amazing what a small world it is when you get down to it.
Only 6 degrees of separation for all of us.
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Written with so much tenderness, Michael. Hope there’s a really positive continuation.
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Me too. But I hope to practice equanimity. I learned that my friend is a member of Highly Sensitive Persons, a group I once joined. If nothing else, I’ll look forward to a rousing conversation and try to be a good listener
Crazy how things work out some times. Really crazy.
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Wow. Can’t wait to see the update on this!
P.S. My daughter’s in India right now, under the tutelage (if that’s what you call it) of Sadhguru. I don’t suppose he was your guru when you were there?
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I believe my guru was Guru Maharajih (if that is the correct spelling.) He was 15 at the time. I hung out with other aspirants at the ashram but I never lived there.
It was all on the up and up. I saw the guru ‘”live” in Florida at a stadium when we got rained on and prevented from returning to Philadelphia because of some hurricane. It must have been in 1979 or 1980.
I’ll never forget Mary Catherine. She was all you wanted from a good wholesome woman who could be just as “bad” as you wanted her to be when the lights were turned down low and it was just you and that warm wonderful person lying beside you . . .
Damn. I got to be careful. I got to craving an old desire and I direct my next few thoughts to a peaceful place or I’ll go a little crazy like a Wolf I know from up North in Canada!
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Watch out, those catholic schoolgirls can be a special mix. Tee hee. Mary Catherine, in name at least, sounds like dyed in the wool Irish Catholic type of material. (; The nuns always wanted to call me Mary Margaret, but I’m the reverse. Ha! Quite the contrarian, but then my mom was Methodist.
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Once a Catholic, always a Catholic. It’s kind of like alcoholism. You can so easily be swayed by the intoxicating nature of i,t especially if you smell incense burning and hear a hymn or two sung in Latin.
Good Catholic girls were the only ones I dated throughout my high school days (or should I say nights?). We had no religion on our minds when we sought enlightenment in the front seat of my old ’57 Chevy. (It was 10-yrs-old when I bought it from my barber for $300!)
I could easily come back into the fold with a friend like you and Mary Catherine, particularly with a pope like Pope Francis.
Nice of you to drop by . . . See you later!
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So true, the once & the always, & the best Pope! I consider myself still ‘in’ though I’m for all intents & purposes, I’m ‘out’. Yes the allure of incense & hymns! Oh but I always was a ‘good girl’ (more nun than fun) & still am. Lol, rats!
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Oops, I spot an edit is needed. I leave the clean up to you, michael c. (:
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