"Tepid disinterest. I guess I expected fire or ice."

So an old flame looked me up on Facebook and got in touch with me a few weeks ago. Not being sure of her motivations (but knowing something of her current situation from a mutual friend), I answered her correspondence with pleasant, if somewhat terse, aplomb. Her response is above. Her no nonsense assessment, and our ensuing conversations, left me wondering about the same things she did.

Let me be clear: this woman was a flame back when I still knew what fire was. Ours was not a casual relationship, and neither of us were casual individuals. In our youth and foolishness, we managed to break both of our hearts, but I thought until quite recently that said phenomenon had no lasting effect on me.

Also to be quite clear: she is now very happily married with a child and contacted me only with the (conscious) purpose of catching up after 14 years.

Through the course of our back and forth, I was reminded than this chic was not only wicked smart, but that she was, as always, bold, direct and uncomfortably perceptive. It has been many long years since I looked at a woman with an idea of long-term discernment; since I have reflected upon the necessity of passion in myself and my peers, and actively searched for it in another person. To be quite honest, in the last decade or so I have consciously preferred a sort of detached and world-weary warmth in my associates.

Our correspondence was a serious splash of cold water in the aforementioned warmth. Given our history (I up and moved to Chicago for her), and the tumultous nature of our separation 14 years ago, I owed her something more than just clever rejoinders, and I soon found myself drawn into actual real (and revealing) communication. Just like old times, sort of; but with some boundaries. Nothing inappropriate, nothing I would worry about her husband reading; just real remembered intimacy resurrected in the here and now. I was a little unsettled by the ease with which I gave up the goods, and by the fact that she apparently still operates with an openness and intensity I lost (or at least eschewed) a long time ago.

Whether or not she was someone with whom I could have shared my life is not the central question (though I did allow myself a moment or two of self-indulgent regret for what might have been, and it might have been extraordinary, if I had had the maturity or awareness to see it). What I find disconcerting is the conspicuous day-today absence of the intense and open person I used to be. My correspondence with my ex reached a natural and necessary conclusion, but I find myself hungry for that level of communication and intimacy, and I wonder at the habit of resignation (she called it being placated) I have chosen. I wish her all the happiness she can manage; I am left wondering how much I myself can handle.

Much peace,
thomasj