Beloved

So I've mentioned my ex many times on here, and make a bit of an overwrought point of not being nasty about him, because indulging in vitriol toward somene once loved seems to me a very strange way to spend one's energy. I do *understand* it, mind you. But it's nothing I really participate in myself.

More to the point, Beloved Ex is a good man. The reasons we're not together are that we had no goals together, and truly, as trite as it is to say, love really isn't enough. I held tight to him because he was a good man, and those were no thicker on the ground in the 80s, when we met, than they are now. But that isn't enough either.

And I wasn't, myself, the most excellent of women when I was twenty-five. So there's that.

BE actually did say of me, once, "Every man should have an amazing car and an amazing woman. I figure the woman's been had" ... so he's for the car, of course. But it was a remarkable thing to say, all things considered.

One of the things I mention about BE from time to time is that he was a rockstar. To put a finer point on that: BE was perhaps the best front man I ever saw.

Yeah, a little bias - sure. But I'd put him up against any other performer and bet on his talents. He was an incredibly dynamic lead singer/guitarist/bass player. His voice was great, of course, but he also really knew how to work his band, his music, and his crowds.

This was a guy who, day-to-day, came off like a bit of a doofus. He was polite to girls, didn't curse much and often apologized if he did, wasn't a heavy drinker, didn't smoke, held doors for people, had a distinctive, wide-eyed "aw shucks" corn-fed midwestern boy way about him. Rudeness astounded him, and crudeness always left him confused. More than once, being the "groupie" for his band, he witnessed the behavior of other guys toward me when he wasn't right with me, and was always dismayed and surprised at people's behavior.

He made very silly jokes, and did horrible cartoon voices and occasional poor impressions of Sean Connery and Cornelius (from Planet of the Apes).

Then he would get on stage.

The commitment he showed on stage was like nothing I have ever seen. Our musician friends called him "The Opie-ola of Rock and Rolla" - and that was accurate. But the moment he was doing his job on stage, he was wildness in black pants. Urgent, super foxy, primal, incredibly passionate.

I remember knowing women who knew nothing of him but what they saw onstage, and assumed I must be, um, worn out twenty-four/seven by such a relentlessly foxy rock god.

I also remember knowing women who knew him through me, and who, when they did come to see him onstage, literally gaped in slack-jawed amazement that THAT GUY was ... this creature! This sweating, writhing, leaping, looming skin full of charisma and power! This guy, who could easily have given Robert Plant a run for his prodigious money.

In this way, BE and I were actually most alike. In BE's case, the transition was distinct and twofold, a brilliantly limned division of labor between "aw shucks" and the pounding force he was on stage. In my case, probably less formed back then, but definitely present, the shifting woman - one moment, a hair-in-the-eyes suburban hausfrau; another moment, a frustrated student; another moment, the girl with the band; and so on, and so on. I think my own permutations are wider ranging now, and perhaps more sophisticated, but it has always been my joy: I contain multitudes.

So did BE.

It wasn't for him, any more than it is for me, a matter of pretense or affectation. It's merely a sublime ability to suit one's context.

My dad raised his children, as his dad had before him, to be able to conduct ourselves with any person, in any situation. It fostered our facility to be engaged by all sorts of different people.

It fostered, for me, an ability to present myself in all sorts of different situations, too. Calibration. Modulation. Consideration. Deployment.

BE did the same, instinctively.


***


As "aw shucks" as he appeared, it must be said of BE that he has always embodied the concept of manliness in my mind. Apart from being a good looking one, he had a mellow disposition I think even my brother wouldn't argue at my comparing a bit to our dad. The essence of a "man", in my mind, is someone who first and foremost has control over himself and can handle what life has to give - or throw at - him. BE had this. He also just phsyically had those things I think of as quintessentially manly, big hands, a physical warmth, a solidity and reliablility. Good voice. Height. And natural generosity.

To this day, I can turn to BE and he not only is willing to "be there" for me no matter what, but his innate sympathy for people always comes through. He wanted to be able to honor my father at his memorial service, and he wanted to be there for me in that time of loss - but after he got on the road, his car handed him other plans. How many men would go to the funeral of their ex father-in-law, or care for their ex in such a loss?

He and I have shared mostly a friendship by phone and email, but the solidity of our relationship makes me forget it's been eight years now since I last saw his face. Distance and time aren't the point; the friendship is a living thing, and always there. We've talked about the people we've dated, we've talked about family and work, we've talked about frustration and fear and the economy, and it is a great honor to me that I seem to have as much to give him as he does me. If a fine man like that respects me, I must be something worthwhile. I feel this of all my friends.

I wish, sometimes, I could properly convey everything I really mean when I talk about my ex husband. So many of the people in my life don't know what he is; I feel just saying "my ex" is almost a disservice to the man.