by Kathy Philpott

Created on: October 28, 2010

He was in town and I hadn’t seen him in over three years.  We had been in and out of love since 2003.  I told him I didn’t want to see him, but the real truth is that I did not want him to see me.

Once again, my lack of self esteem and imagined vanity defeated any chance for us.  I feel like the past three years have shown up on my face.  At sixty years old, there is a lot showing up in a natural way with wrinkles and lack of color in my cheeks.  But it’s more than that.  I just don’t feel like myself.  With two major moves in two years, I have lost a bit of myself.

It’s compounded by the fact that my hair has never looked weirder.  Even though I have a formula for the color and a picture of my haircut, every stylist I have gone to either creates a Howdy Doody look or version of Mamie Eisenhower.  Dear God!  Stylist please just do what I have asked.

The stress of my financial situation has caused me to grind my teeth in my sleep and it’s thrown my bite off.  My front teeth have become crooked.  I’m painting a real pretty picture aren’t I? Oh, I almost forgot.  I am shrinking in height.  Now, I am about the same size as Howdy Doody.  So, I told Steve I wanted him to remember me as I was.

We met when we were both working on a New Orleans Riverboat.  He was the trumpet player and I was a singer and dancer and all around comic.  Although I have had several husbands, I was never really courted.  Being courted by a Southern man was worth waiting for.  Steve’s voice and manners were almost hypnotic.  I found myself so often weak in the knees just listening to him talk.

His kisses were gentle, warm and loving.  Sometimes, if we had a free morning, we would go “camping” the night before and stay at a Hotel.  There, we could be truly alone.

I loved sleeping with him.  I felt loved and valued.  I felt like a female.  I enjoyed the entire experience.

I can’t remember exactly  why we ended the second time.  It was shortly after my father died.  My issues were harder to hide and I became hypercritical.  I ended it rudely.  My father used to say that I could find fault like no one he had ever known.  He never meant it as a compliment.

So, there it is.  I am working with a therapist now so hopefully I will grow wiser and kinder to myself and those people I love.  I still think of Steve as a bonus in my life.  The love I felt for him was genuine.  I simply did not have to tools to deal with a relationship in a mature way.

Steve, I want to thank you for our time together.  I am certain you are still a great “camper”.

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