Sadness And Stuff

(Actually from June 17th, 2024)

(The morning)

This morning I’m sad. My whole life I was looking forward to falling in love. And every year that goes by brings me closer to the realization that the one thing I was most excited to experience my whole life…will possibly never happen. I’m 40 and married to the father of my children who I need to stay married to for their sake and mine because care about them. …Really. Don’t assume everyone can easily just divorce their spouse at the drop of a hat, even in 2024. Some of us know better…and truly can’t. It would destroy my life right now and make my kid’s lives far more difficult. In almost every way the situation would be hellish. And for what!? Some dim, dim chance…some man…who likely doesn’t even exist…will magically emerge out of nowhere?!? *eye-roll* …If it was 1975 I might. Just because I’m that deep and there would feel like a chance. But…I sincerely can’t imagine a man who would be worth the hellishness even existing. …There are lots of nice men. Lots. Just not for me. …Older Boomer men feel…often well…to be honest too…immature, we’ll say, to me.

Yes. Boomer men often feel too…young. There are some Gen. X men who don’t. And there were a few Millenials who didn’t either. But…I’m a genetic outlier. …There are a few Boomers who might not too. But…most of them are married.

The post after this one…goes into it further…but…yes. When I was a teenager and young adult the few remaining Greatest Generation men often hit on me. At weddings. At funerals. At ice cream parlors. At family dinners. …They hit on me. In their own ways. …And actually…the sad truth is…it was in the exact way…I think too.

Va pensiero, sull’ ali dorate from Nabucco by Verdi plays.

The Silent Generation has hit on me too…somewhat. To real effect. A few aging Boomers maybe even have. But…no. The men of the Greatest Generation altered my way of seeing things and…now I’m not able to abide by how most men alive in 2024.

The men of the Greatest Generation slapped your butt. In public. At weddings. …They made speeches at dinners about your beauty out of the blue. They pointed at your beauty out of the blue and made gestures. And they understood…subtleties…the way I understand them to exist. …You know they weren’t just violent. It wasn’t violence…necessarily at all. …At times it might have been. But I’d bet in context it often made sense to be so…assertive. Maybe the women of that generation actually needed and wanted that for real. Like…it actually made sense.

Actually…why did they hit on me? So adamantly? …You know…I was extremely pretty. But…did it go beyond that? Did those men know…somehow…that my life was going to be absolute shit if they didn’t? That I would be confused…and languish…in deep misery…in my 20’s…not able to subconsciously even piece together anything I was experiencing. But they saved me from that by being stupid and slapping my bottom at a wedding…when I was 17. Isn’t that funny? …Or standing and making a spectacle of me when I was 20 at a funeral.

“Look at her!” an old man said suggestively to his wife when I was 20. “WOW!” he said, suggestively. His wife looked hurt. But also not surprised. “Did you see her!?” he said to his wife. His wife nodded her head. He looked embarrassed as he slowly turned away to walk off with his wife. “WHAT!?” he yelled. “I’m an old man. I can say stuff like that now!” His wife looked at him with embarrassment and concern. “I’m just an old man!” he insisted. She laughed empathetically and smiled at him. “It doesn’t make any difference!!” he said loudly. His wife smiled at him and then tried to move the situation along. I was very quiet…as I didn’t want his wife to feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t interested. But it wasn’t what he was saying to her exactly and I bet she knew that. Nothing was going to happen. But…I wasn’t…deaf, so to speak.

I can’t quickly and easily explain every single thing that happened. But…essentially…they proved to me that I wasn’t crazy. Before they died.

“Would a man ever just grab you and kiss you? Out of the blue?” I used to wonder at 17 when I was analyzing human sexuality. Most men seemed…so…unlikely to do that. Or even think of it. At least in the exact way I had imagined was possible. So when one of them randomly slapped my behind at a wedding as I was setting-up a dessert table out of the way of public view mostly…and then waited for a response…and was unsurprised by my shock and quiet decision to just ignore it in a way and smile politely in confusion…and then return to arranging drinks…my mind was altered. He looked guilty and dangerous and then meandered away slowly. If I was older he might have tried to sleep with me. But…I was 20 or so? And…I looked womanly…but…not…old enough to make assumptions about. So…I didn’t seem loose and looking so much as…genuinely quite shocked. And not being a total moron or monster he decided he’d made his case and should leave it at that. Most people today couldn’t recreate that scene in the exact same way. Actually…I doubt almost any man alive would or could.

Act I: Libiamo ne’ lieti calici “Brandisi” from La Traviata by Verdi plays.

When I was younger…I was possibly extremely haunted. I still am…but not in the same way.

At any rate, if there’s Purgatory. If there are ghosts. I was haunted. …And…that’s where this sad story isn’t as sad. Actually…it’s so sad and stupid it becomes impossible and therefore leaning towards hilarious.

Why? Because…there were three or four men…all named Joe or Joel…who were so…into me. One of them was even named Joseph Patrick…who resembled Prince Ranier. And no. That’s not typical. Not every woman had a crush on Joe Kennedy Junior because she was violently and adamantly dissuaded from crushing on Lem Billings and badgered into pretending, except for in the recesses of her subconscious, that he was homosexual. …And I did. I truly had a crush on Joe Kennedy Junior. As a teenager. And his name and oftentimes even men who looked like him would emerge out of nowhere and suddenly be fascinated by me. Of my generation. …And they were always far more assertive and friendly and cheerful and into me than any other man. One of them still follows me on Instagram today. From high school. His name is Joseph Patrick. He’s a sensitive, highly intelligent man. But…we aren’t meant to be together.

And…that’s just it. Things got too weird.

If I’m meant to die and live for eternity with one man…and I have a specific man in mind…trying desperately to prevent that was a disastrous decision. A terrible mistake.

Joel at UND had glasses and was tall and serious and looked a bit like Lem Billings. I shouldn’t have been demonically psychically attacked every time we talked so I felt…scared of him. But I did. I invited two of my seeming female friends to accompany me on my one and only date with him. It was ABSURD. …And he was very sweet about it. Very chill. But…it was WEIRD. I was terrified of him. And of course it didn’t help that he’d stupidly invited me to his frat late at night at the suggestion of his drunken buddy.

“Be careful! You never know what men like that will do!!” Joe Kennedy Junior whispered in my ear spiritually with horror. Like Joel was some super sex predator of…epic proportions. It was very convincing. Except…I felt weird about it too…which is why I still am processing it and why I accepted the last invite and brought two female friends.

But no…Joel at UND was one of the rare men who I maybe could have had a real relationship with. But I highly suspect the evil dead interfered. Or the foolish dead. Evil and foolish.

Regardless…I’ve possibly been so haunted…I’m now…stuck.

A-Punk by Vampire Weekend plays.

Jack Kennedy rides on a bicycle all around the campus of the University of North Dakota. With a lost, desperate, searching look. As if he’s been up to something for a while…and now it’s not working out…and yet somehow he still thinks that if he just peddles fast enough or hard enough he’ll get it all worked out.

He zooms, wind blowing through his hair. A worried look on his furrowed face. A combination of “Eww!” and “How dare they!” and “It’s gonna be okay! I just know it!” and “I’m gonna get you!”

“Jack why didn’t you just let me marry Joel!?!” I ask.

He looks huffy and gives me the silent treatment with his nose held high in the air. As if to say to me, “You…just…don’t…get it.”

“Jack. I spent the last two weeks sadly realizing how much happier my life would be if I’d just married Joel. …He’s not Lem. Why!??” I ask.

Jack Kennedy closes his eyes condescendingly. Rolls his eyes as he opens them. How…the hell…did everyone believe he was straight?!? …Why do people still cling to that narrative?

Jack Kennedy crosses his legs. Folds his arms. His eyes closed. His lips puckered to indicate disdain for me. At UND. In…2014? 2016?

“Because I had already brainwashed you into thinking he was evil and ugly and gay.” says JFK to me. “And…he wasn’t as smart as your current legal husband anyway. …I mean…you could have married him. …But…every time I saw you two together I felt…weird.”

“Weird how!?” asks Sean.

Jack laughs at him. “Ha! You’re me. Aww.

*he laughs at the living slightly*

Because he felt…way too much like Lem. And then Lem is straight. Okay!? He was just a fucked-up straight guy. …And I wasn’t straight. And…I dunno. It feels…weird.” says JFK.

“Weird HOW!?” asks an actor, in exasperation.

“Like…I’m…dead. Like I’m dead or something. Okay? …Some things don’t feel dead to me. Actually lots of things feel alive still. And…yet…something about Lacey being with Joel would have felt too scary. Like…I’m actually dead. And she’s not Grace. And I’m not even really her friend. Just her evil hater. And stalker. And…

I’m dead. For real. Like…I’m actually just dead.” says JFK.

An actor laughs. “Ahh…okay. But…Joel isn’t actually Lem.”

“Yes. I know. But…in their spirits they’re a lot alike. Okay!? And…then I have to deal with the fact that she was made for Lem. …And…that Joel only works because he’s a dim reflection of her eternity. And he’s not forever. He’s just temporary.

Some people aren’t. But he would be.

And that’s just…so upsetting. To me. OKAY!?” says JFK, rolling his eyes and laughing.

“Okay. But now she’s actually with Lem.” says the actor.

Jack Kennedy laughs and cries while still trying to smile. He fights to control his facial expression.

“See…that wasn’t supposed to happen.” says JFK. “Like…he’s dead. Right? So…I just…like…didn’t see that coming.”

“Because God doesn’t like for the living to talk with the dead!” says a Mexican woman to JFK.

“Right. Yeah.” says JFK.

“Okay. But you were. Not technically. Right? Because she didn’t know. But…you were. …And so…God’s fair and couldn’t let that just happen. Make sense?” she says like God’s customer service department.

“Okay. …But like…for real!?” says JFK.

“Yes for real!” yells a Native American woman.

“Okay. Whatever.” says JFK.

“But like…you’re dead.” says a Millennial woman to JFK.

“Mmm. Yeah. It’s not death. You’ll be surprised.” says JFK to her.

“It’s so death. Just not the way you imagined it.” she says.

“Yeah.

But it’s still really weird.” says JFK,

“Because it’s not…normal.” says the Millennial woman.

“You’ll see.

Yeah. It’s weird.” says JFK to her.

“So…you were bisexual. And I think you had feelings for Lem.

And…turns out…he was just a messed-up straight guy. Which is so creepy. …I get it.

But like…you can be over that.” she says.

JFK looks sad. “Yeah. Mmkay. …But then…I’m still dead.”

“Yeah. But…if God allows homosexuality in Purgatory at least…why not date actual bisexuals like you or gay men?” she says.

“Or just get over the whole thing? Yeah.

The thing is…I’m dead. And I’m fixated on him. For real.

But like…I’m also dead.” says JFK.

She nods. “It’s just weird being dead.”

JFK cries ugly. His fingers shaking up near his nose and mouth. He looks very homosexual in a way.

“I…was…killed.” says Jack gasping.

“Yeah. You so were.” says the Native American woman to JFK.

JFK winces in tears. Uncontrollably sobbing.

He calms himself slightly. “It was a sunny day!!!”

“Yeah.” says a gay man.

“It was just a sunny day.” says JFK. “And then I’m dead.

Okay!?!

Shoot.” he laughs.

“So…you’re dead now.” says the Native American woman.

“NO!! I cannot be dead.” says JFK in terror. “I didn’t get it done. For dad. And dad will kill me.” he says without thinking.

“Get what done!?” asks the Native American woman.

“Ahh!!! THE PRESIDENCY!!!” says JFK.

“Yeah. You didn’t.” says a Millennial woman.

A Boomer man laughs.

JFK assumes he’s being laughed at. He scowls.

“Yeah. But it’s not over.

See…I have a plan.

I can get into office. I just have to find the right angle. See?

Barack Obama was…a false lead. Bill Clinton kind of made sense…but not really. And then they both just became their own thing. At least somewhat.

But…there’s gotta be a way to make it work.” says JFK.

“How long will you be at this?” asks a Native American woman.

JFK thinks. “Oh! I mean…if Lacey dies and I’m over it…like…I’ll probably still try.

So I dunno. …200 years? 500 years? I have eternity. So it’s not a big deal.” says JFK.

“So you’re just haunting all of us.” says the Native American woman to JFK,

“Mmm. I’m just…not okay with what’s happening.” says JFK.

The Native American woman laughs. “The being dead part?”

“Mm. …Sure.” says JFK.

“Got it.” she says,

“Good to know!” says a Millennial woman to Jack.

“So can you help me?” says JFK.

“How would we help you Jack!? You’re dead.” says a Millennial woman.

“Like…save me? Or like…do…something??” says JFK.

“Umm. Well. There’s not a ton I can think of.” says the woman.

“Okay.” says JFK. “Cool.” He cries. “If you pray for me I’ll just have to feel dead. And then I feel God’s anger and that’s terrifying. Because I’m in trouble with Him. So…”

“So talk to God humbly anyway.” says Lacey.

“Yeah. Okay.” says JFK, knowing she’s right. He walks off to go talk to God.m. Sort of. Temporarily possibly.

Why is he stalking Lacey? Maybe because she’s 40 and alive and feels like his age. And maybe because of who her father is. And maybe because of who she’s in love with for eternity. …Her life makes him feel like he’s not yet quite dead. Like…there’s somehow still time. He just has to play it all right and he’ll get the hang of it and then he’ll be technically dead…but yet…not…dead dead. No…she’s not him reincarnated. He’s just possibly very confused about being dead.