After complaining to Spyscribbler that I couldn't find the Cab Ride story, I found it (naturally) on another website. It is definitely worth a read. And it got me to thinking how sometimes you meet someone and everything changes.
(Names have been omitted to protect the innocent, the guilty, and everyone in between.)
About twelve years ago I met P. P was a friend of a friend sort of person. He lived alone in the country, a good 45 minute drive from my part of that same country. He was almost a hermit when I met him; pleasant on the surface but he didn't talk unless he had something to say and he did not go out of his way to be social. Considering his career at the time (hallucinogenic agriculture) it was understandable.
I was encouraged by my ex to befriend him; chiefly because he wanted a "source" and he noticed at a gathering that P actually spoke to me for more than two seconds (more than he gave most people). I acquiesced; but not to please my ex. I was depressed, isolated, unhappy... about the lowest I've ever been in my life. I needed friendship and connection like a fish needs water and I wasn't exactly getting it from him.
And there was just something about P that made me want to know him. It was more than just seeing a kindred soul in him; like me he was incredibly alone and I sensed that he needed a friend as much as I did. Needed someone to just be with now and then who wasn't looking for a score. I can't describe the feeling to this day; it was like he had an invisible finger hooked into me from the moment we met. He was a silent, powerful force; he was inevitable.
It was tough going for a while there. I tried, and tried, and tried some more--for months I pestered him and visited and sat in his house and endured his silence, his one word answers, his utter resistance. Finally one day I'd had enough and when I left his house I told myself I wasn't going back.
It took about two weeks until, apparently, the suspense was unbearable and he finally called. We got together to walk the dogs and it became a regular thing. We started talking more. I even got him to laugh out loud every once in a while. The big silence between us was still there, but it had changed. It was no longer a wall I was battering against; it was a warm, dark cloak that surrounded us, sheltered us from everyone else who didn't get what we were about. Our friendship was a deep, true understanding, a place that belonged solely to us.
I'm sure you can guess what happened next. The ex's friends starting making comments and the ex asked me one day if I was sleeping with P. I said no; it wasn't like that at all.
He didn't believe me. Oh, he never said anything outright but I knew and, thinking back on it, our marriage was over that day, that very minute. I told him if our friendship upset him I wouldn't see P any more. I called P and told him what happened and that I wouldn't be coming by any more... and I cried like a baby.
It was like he died. I was devestated.
And I'm tearing up just thinking about it now. I'll stop here. Part 2 tomorrow.