Thursday, September 24, 2009

You Can't Step in the Same River Twice

The other day, I was explaining something to somebody and said, "You can't step in the same river twice." The river may look the same and flow in the same direction, but the water is always new. The bank might curve a bit differently and the river itself might even be deeper. My river changed dramatically yesterday. I can tell the effects will be far reaching although right now I'm not sure how.

I'm under the protection of The Man from San Antone again. That's an ancient expression, "under the protection." It was still in use during Victorian times to euphemistically describe the relationship between a man and his mistress. She was under his protection. That's not exactly the case with me and the Man from San Antone. Nevertheless, he is providing a much needed cash infusion. My therapist will be delighted to receive this news since I haven't paid her in six months, and most of the cash will be going straight to her. Some will be going towards mani/pedi, new boots and the Gemini Party. The maid, too, if he sends as much as I said I needed.

One of the primary reasons I was always astounded by HCW's conviction that I wanted to marry him is that if I'm going to get permanently mixed up with anyone, I'll go with the man who sends me five figures when I ask nicely. HCW, as I recall, thought he was generous for leaving behind a roach.

I am sincerely attached to HCW; I really am - even though he won't talk to me. I like all those other guys hanging around the periphery too. I especially like Woody since he's 2,000 miles away. At the moment, though, all I have to say is:

Somebody better tell the Man from San Antone that Velvet and Gigi have been circulating the story that The Man from San Antone is Gigi's birth father. They love this story. The first time Gigi met The Man from San Antone she told him he looked like a typical john. We were in a hotel bar talking about hookers at the time, so it's not like she pulled the comment out of nowhere. He acted offended and stomped off - but he was just going up to his room to get high without anyone tagging along. She was unrepentant and called him "daddy" all night long. She even told him that I needed new lingerie from La Perla, bless her heart, as if Le Perla makes anything that would hold up these old knockers.

Velvet was impressed by the Man from San Antone since he knows Charlie Wilson and has a nodding acquaintance with Willy Jeff Clinton in Vegas. Velvet also likes it that I backed The Man's Trans Am into a tree which resulted me being grounded from driving the Turbo Porche The Man then leased with his allowance. Now that I think about it, The Man from San Antone had a little Fiat Spider between the Trans Am and the Porche which I loved driving down Devil's Backbone down the the sailboat at Canyon Lake. I liked driving it through the tall grass going the back way to the beach, too. I wasn't allowed to drive the Maserati either, but it belonged to his brother.

In the end, maybe The Man from San Antone and I are more like siblings than a romantic couple. We always made a good couple, though. We make good partners, too. This whole thing has me thinking about the nature of relationships again. Going back to the spring, when I was thinking about the enduring nature of love (Stonerdate 05.24.09), a tree served as a metaphor instead of a river. The river is more about Life, The Universe and Everything than that tree on my terrace which was an anniversary gift to Buzz Kill and me right before we got divorced.

Buzz Kill and I are finally stabilizing into a more harmonious state - maybe because we've both finally got the freedom to grow into our own natures instead of living someone else's ideas. Neil Young has the right idea:


Blogger Gail said...


So glad you got some cash girl - and ya, pay the shrink, but get at least one pair of boots!!

Love you

September 24, 2009 at 9:26 AM  
Blogger Alexa said...

Money! -- What's that?! ;-)

"You can't step in the same river twice" ... makes me recall a "booze cruise" in 1978 (I was 19) that I went on with several friends ... and my first out-of-control love -- the guy who was a year younger than me whom I ditched after three months in '77 'cause he was 17 and I was 18 (thus legal to buy booze). The next spring I ran into him and had sudden, *rampant* Spring Fever for about five years, even though I was informally engaged to somebody else during the eventual fizzling out of the Fever.

Anyway, S. and I went on this cruise ... and I got shitfaced on rum & cokes. S. and I were standing at a railing and I was slurringly begging him to take me back. He said, as seriously as a drunk 18-year-old can: "I never read the same book twice." Well, shit. I read lots of books more than once, and my mother and older sister were *sure* he was the One for me, and they wanted a wedding, dammit.

But he said no. I pitched my drink over the side of the boat, started to bawl, and S. stood there with his head hung low, hands in his pockets grappling at his own thighs like he was tamping down his muscles from running off on their own. Then the next song came on. "Three Times a Lady" by the Commodores. Oh, F*CK. S. wanted to dance with me. WTF?! We danced -- or he held me up as I continued to wail over his shoulder. We necked. I bawled. It was over.

I guess it was a done deal -- after all, "our song" the year before had been George Benson's "This Masquerade" ...

Now S. is married, has at least one kid, and last I heard, he was suckin' it up in middle management in a suburb somewhere.

So glad I didn't marry him ... and there's nothing like your first love, eh?

Thanks for the wee stagger down Memory Lane, Trish! :-D

September 24, 2009 at 12:23 PM  
Blogger PENolan said...

My pleasure, Jaliya. Gail, I'm confident there will be enough left over for boots and maybe even a sweater.

September 24, 2009 at 2:23 PM  
Blogger intelliwench said...

Hmmm...maybe I should rethink this "beholden to no man" crap I've been holdin' on to. There are worse things, I suppose.

Not sure about Mary Poppins doing that tune though, PE -- Eartha Kitt does it so much...nicer. By which I mean, not like a nice girl.

September 24, 2009 at 7:42 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

If you have any left a good bottle of booze ok? ;)

Good stuff woman..not the cheap ass shit.

September 24, 2009 at 8:04 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

Better some primo beats booze every time! ;)

September 24, 2009 at 8:05 PM  
Blogger PENolan said...

I hear you on that, Dusty. Not to worry, my meager budget already contains a line for herb.

September 24, 2009 at 8:08 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

I knew you were one smart cookie woman. ;)

September 24, 2009 at 9:01 PM  
Blogger PENolan said...

Back at cha, Dusty

Julie was the only one I could find this morning that was a video and not Marilyn Monroe. I've decided to go with this one of Mary Martin since I read she was the first to sing it on Broadway.

The Man from San Antone has lost more in one night in Vegas than he's sending me if you count spending it on hookers and blow. So I don't feel beholding. There has been a disturbance in the force, however

September 24, 2009 at 11:16 PM  
Blogger Woody (Tokin Librul/Rogue Scholar/ Helluvafella!) said...

Better some primo beats booze every time! ;)

Fab Furry Freak Brothers, circa 1970: "Weed will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no weed..."

2000 miles is a mere "hop, skip, and jump..."


September 25, 2009 at 11:53 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

Woody..I had a poster that said that in the 70's..omg..a blast from the past. I loved those comic's!

Thanks :)

September 25, 2009 at 11:55 AM  

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home