Of Therapists and Bartenders

As the title implies, this is my take on the people that my life has brought me in contact with that have been the brightest lights in my effort to find meaning in this strange life of mine.

I spent an hour falling apart at my therapists the other day, It was horribly painful and seems indescribable in its depth. but…

I underestimated her magic, using duct tape, super glue and perhaps a silent incantation she managed to put most of the pieces back where they belonged. I’m not sure what it is that she does, it could be as simple as giving me a place to dump all the crap that builds up in me. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be a professional best friend to dozens of people. To her credit though I feel like I’m her only patient or at least her most important. When I say this I imagine her smiling which is usually what she does just before she laughs at me. However she does it, I am eternally grateful, I always feel better when I leave than when I arrive and I guess that would be the object of the exercise.

Now for the rest of the story. One of my ongoing laments is that I’m sure that I will never find someone to share the rest of my life with. That I love the feeling of attraction is an understatement. This ongoing issue has been the subject of considerable reflection, contemplation and a number of poems, blogs and general commiseration.  So, as some of you may have noticed, I met a bartender that from the very first moment that I met her has been a source of fascination. I don’t seriously think of her as a future partner, I am after all, old enough to be her mother, but that has not stopped me from a serious case of girl crush. It fills me with giddy smiles so what’s not to like? I have spent countless hours and innumerable dollars sitting on the other side of the bar from her, watching her work the room, talking about the rough spots in my life and hers. It was to her smile I retreated when I got fired. Suffice it to say she occupies a special place in my heart.

I have spent months getting to know her, it was with great satisfaction that she began to see me as friend. Progress was incremental in nature, glacial in speed but first I learned her last name, then she shared her phone number with me. We sat and talked for hours after she got off work. So when I had finished at the therapist and was still feeling shitty, better, but shitty none the less, what does the Universe present me with? As I walked down the stairs my phone beeps and who is it but “The Bartender”  She asked how I’m doing then starts a conversation that ends with a suggestion that I can stop over her house and have a drink.


I did manage to overcome my reluctance, yeah right.  I went with a big stupid smile on my face and we talked for hours without the benefit of loud pounding music in the background, I learned more about her, I shared more about me, and came home with that big stupid smile. I  slept the best I had in months and woke from the dream in the morning with the poem already written.

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