The Heart is a Fucking Liar

Profanity Alert!! Profanity Alert!!! HA!!!!

Well, I've been putting it off for too long now. I can't have it banging around in my skull, so it's time to jettison it. It's been "niggling" in my brain for too long. Niggling. I love that word. It's a grand word, isn't it? Kind of reminds me of wriggling and...I don't know what. Anyway, it's niggling in my brain.

I received a weird call last week, on Sunday. I was sleeping late, like I always do on Sunday, and I heard the phone ring in my state between sleep and awake. I hear my daughter answer and tell the person on the line that I'm still in bed. (Crap. It's noon. Who is she talking to, and they're going to think I'm the laziest human being on earth.") My daughter comes sneaking in....

"Mom? Joe just called. He said he'd call you back."

Both my eyes spring open, in spite of themselves. My husband, who is the 2nd laziest person on earth, laughs a little. He's right next to me, lazing away.

Me: It can't be.
Husband: Bet it is.
Me: No way. I haven't talked to him in seven years. Can't be him.
Husband: Bet it is.
Me: I'm going to get our daughter in here and interrogate her.
Husband: She's not going to know what that means.
Me: DAUGHTER!!!
Me again: Daughter, what did that caller say?
Daughter: He said he was an old friend of yours. Joe that used to live in Omaha.

My heart actually stopped beating. Thank God I'm trained in the Automated Electronic Defibrillator. I had to use it on myself. CLEAR!

Joe and I go way back. Way Way back to November of 1989 when we first met on O street, both of us crusing separately with friends on a late night. He had a bet with another carload of friends; whomever picked up cute girls first and was actually seen by the other car, got money. Before you feel sorry for us, remember that I was hot back then. 120 pounds of brown eyed, big boobed fury. I was 18. So was he. Anyway, we all knew about the bet, and Mindy and I were willing participants because, hey, nothing going on anyway, and I really thought Joe was cute. Six foot five inches, 250 pounds. Dark hair...He was totally a big teddy bear and completly my type. I had no idea on that night that we would eventually fall in love. As much in love as two 18 year olds can be.

Trivia: His real name is Joel. He hates that name. That was our "code" for a lot of years. I would locate him and ask for Joel. He would come to the phone acting like he knew it was me. Because he did.

We dated for quite a while. But the most amazing things happened: We stayed in contact for quite a while after we broke up. It was kind of like a convoluted long distance non-exclusive relationship. We both saw other people, but we were still inexplicably tied to one another.
He would end up calling every six months, and I would end up crying because, my God, I missed him so much. Our lives just never seemed to uh, meet. I guess it was obvious that he missed me, too, because he was the one who called me all the time. I never knew how to get in contact with him, but he always found ways to get with me.

Trivia: His mom and dad are divorced. He has two brothers and a sister who had like, 47 kids by the time she was 16.

I can just hear people now. "Oh, he just wanted to meet for sex." Or, "He just wanted to get some." or however crude way people might put it. But, the funny thing? Joe and I never slept together. Never in all those years. I was waiting for the right time, and when that time came, Joe was gone, run out of town by his mother. We've laughed about that aspect of our relationship for a long time. God, we were a joke...

Anyway, Joe was my first love. I can remember the first time I told him that I loved him. I was leaving his apartment and I got all the way down the stairs and almost 1/2 way to my car and I just stopped. I turned around and looked at him and just said it. The funny thing was it sounded almost like a question. "I love....you?" HA!! He just smiled and told me he loved me, too. Those words never came easy to me. I can't tell you why, even. My family has always been very touchy-feely and I-love-you-ey, but for some reason, I felt those words, said to a boyfriend, were so significant, that they required a lot of thought and a lot of preparation that I wasn't sure I could give at 18. But, it felt right. And, it was true. We loved each other.

Trivia: He used to drive a '71 Monte Carlo and he was very worried about the speaker wires getting messed up. Everyone who got in his car got the warning, "Watch the wires." It was hilarious.

I last talked to him seven years ago, after my daughter was born. He had had a son 2 weeks before my daughter was born. Joe Jr. He told me he was getting married to Joey's mom.

Trivia: When I last actually laid eyes on him, I was engaged to who would become my husband. Joe asked me not to invite him to the wedding because, "he just couldn't take it." That last visit, he asked me to run away with him. I obviously refused.

So.....Joe called. I didn't talk to him the first time, but I figured if he was going to go to the trouble of saying who he was, then he would call back. I asked my husband about 47,329 times if he would be bothered by my talking to Joe. Husband assured me he would not. And, I believe him. He's very trusting, and it's not like it would be a romantic conversation after all these years. Joe and I are strangers. It turns out he located me by getting in contact with my grandma in my hometown. She gave him my phone number because he knew all this stuff about me to prove that he was actually a friend. When he called back, it was just like old times. With the exception of my husband sitting in his recliner about 6 inches away from me, which is exactly how I wanted it. It's not like we were going to have phone sex, for Christ's sake. We were two old friends

Triva: I blogged about Joe a while ago, but was too chicken to post it. It's saved as a draft. Maybe someday I'll publish it. That was way before he called. Odd.

Joe lives in Iowa. He was hurt on the job a while ago and is at 50% disability. He survived lung cancer and being shot. (The being shot was a drive-by in Omaha shortly after the first time we broke up.) He struggled with after effects of the gunshot. It got so bad that years and years later he was in and out of the hospital for it.

What else can I say? I could go on, literally, for hours and hours. About how we felt about each other and the things we used to do together (no perversion, thank you. Remember, we never had sex.)

Yet, there's Joe, plaguing my dreams again. I know some people (the 2 that read this) might say, "God! What is her problem! She's sayinig she's happily married, and she's blogging about an old boyfriend?? Screech!!! She's lying!! She's this...she's that."

Assuming my marriage is the reader's business, I will make this clear: I am blogging about an old friend. I have blogged about old friends before. Cindy. Angie. Colleen...Etc..And, there will be more to come. Believe me. But, remember your first love? What would you feel if, assuming you haven't had contact with them for awhile, they called you? How would you feel? I'm not one to normally think of "what might have been". I'm just not that type of person. I never have been. It does no good, and it could probably drive a person crazy. But, Joe? He was something. I have his phone number and he has mine, and I can't call him. I can't do it. Why? The Heart is a Fucking Liar. I don't want it really to remember then. I don't really want it to say, "Heyyyyyyyyy! What about....." I don't want that, I don't need that.

See where I'm coming from on this? I don't even dream that much about him directly. It's just, if my dreams had a marquee, it would say, "He's back."

Trivia: I had to break it to Joe that I am no longer a brown eyed big boobed beauty. That gaining 100 pounds since I've been married has really blurred those things a little. Except for the boobs. They're still big. Kinda down by my thighs, but big. Just in case you needed a visual. His response? "Are you happy?" I had to tell him I was happy with my life, but not with my weight. He said, "If you're happy, that shit doesn't matter." Yeah, he'd think that if he saw me. Gross.

After the conversation was over, my husband just laughed. "Sounds like you had a good talk." He is so totally at ease with it. He has never even brought it up since that call. If I were me, I'd be interrogating me all the time. "Did you call him? Has he called you? Have you seen each other?" But, alas, my husband is not me. I don't know what else to say. I am pretty sure by this point I've made a horrible impression on those who know me and a worse impression on those who don't. (My reader base is huuuuuuuuuuuuge, mind you. At least 3 people read this.)

Anyway, that's my Joe story for now. Believe what you will. We're old friends. But, if you're sitting in judgement of me, think back to your first love. Close your eyes. Remember them. Think of their voice, their touch, their laugh. The things you shared. The times you told each other you loved one another. Then, tell me your marquee. I won't screech. I promise. It's the heart that's the fucking liar. Not me.