Rants & RAVES

This last year was a tumultuous one for my romantic life. I was brie y engaged to the man of my dreams, and I’m crushed to say, my ancée and I have parted ways. The roller coaster of emotions I was riding was intense. We had a whirlwind romance lled with torrid secrets, dreams of exotic travel and a painful love triangle.

My heart took quite a beating!

Let me start from the beginning. It all started with the weirdest Christmas present I’ve ever received. A friend enrolled me a theatre “experience” she found in a magazine ad. She gave me a gift certi cate and said to expect a phone call. OK, how vague is that? From who? About what? She gave me no details except to say, “Just play along with it when they call.”

Come to nd out, I was enrolled in a play for adults called, “Fall in Love in Four Months.” All of the writers, directors and actors that were unemployed during the start of the pandemic formed an online theatre experience that made you part of the script and evolved depending on how much interaction you provided.

Sure enough, about two weeks later, I received a call from one Clark DuBois at the Adhesive Matchmaking Agency, supposedly located in South Carolina. We spent almost an hour on the phone where he asked me a myriad of questions. What was my ideal partner like? What did I consider the best date I’d ever been on? Where did I grow up? What was on my bucket list of travel destinations? What did I consider a perfect date? etc.

At one point, I mentioned an interest in going on a date to Nova Scotia and glamping in an igloo (I had just seen a documentary on Nova Scotia, even though I’ve never been and would be hard pressed to locate it on a map). Perhaps sipping ice cold Pinot Grigio in a gorgeous garden, while my date whipped up a fabulous meal. I also mentioned the odd detail that my residence was in the town where Malt-o-Meal is manufactured, and that the town often smelled like toast.

Clark and I had a great phone chat, lled with lots of laughter. At the end of our conversation, he asked me if I thought he might have a chance of nding true love? Kinda weird, but I said, “Sure, you sound like a nice guy with an open heart. I should think you’d have a great chance of nding someone swell.”

I might have also mentioned that he sounded like a brunette which he found a tad puzzling. Two weeks later, my rst hand-written letter arrived on masculine-looking stationery with a clean, “architect-like” penmanship. It was from Clark.

“Dear Mary, It was like I’d known you forever and I could so easily tell you stories I’d never told anyone. To be honest, it’s been way too long since I’d had a conversation like that. Ever since I’ve been working from home, doing everything over the phone, I haven’t really connected or laughed like that. Like I haven’t really felt a human being WITH me. With you, it was like I was right there smelling the Malt-o-Meal with you. I could feel your presence …

“I can’t stand the thought of sending you on dates with some charming man from Adhesive Matchmaking’s database, because I want you for myself! But I need to know, my sweet Mary - did you feel it too? Or am I moving too fast? Write back, I beg you. If you feel what I’m feeling, I have to know.”

Sure enough, my magnetic personality had once again won over a man in just under an hour!

Every time you receive a letter, it contains three speci c questions. The letter includes a preaddressed postcard, if you want to just respond to the basic questions. That’s how they know how to progress with the script. Being the shy, demure gal that I am, I immediately typed a two-page response and sent it out via second day air to my new boyfriend.

“Clark, Thank you for your lovely missive! I too have been thinking about you since our conversation. I’m thrilled you felt it too! That instantaneous comfortable connection … like we had known each other for ages after a mere interlude on the phone. The longing for human connection in conversation as well as dreaming of your actual touch. There really is nothing sexier than a man who can cook, except perhaps, a man who can pen a gorgeous letter. Revealing himself slowly … peeling away the layers like a sweet onion.

“What I meant to say is, I can envision you as part of my life. It’s complete serendipity that we met. I hope you aren’t offended by my directness. I’m at an age where saying what you mean and asking for what you want is natural. I’m breathless with anticipation for our next conversation. Please be safe and think of me fondly until then! Yours, Mary”

Soon, my boyfriend’s second letter arrived with a pressed blue borage ower between the pages.

“Mary, I’m so terribly nervous. I know you said that you feel it too — that instantaneous comfortable connection, how it was serendipity that we met — but are we crazy? I mean, we’ve only spoken once and here we are falling for each other. Can this really be?”

He mentioned in his missive that he had left his home and started driving, so he could think about how to go forward with our crazy love affair. He wrote me from Athens (Georgia, not the one in Greece).

“I did take one thing from home. I didn’t mean to take them, but just as I was leaving, I couldn’t help it. I grabbed a handful of borage owers. They grow in the garden, and I’ve saved a cutting in the kitchen during the winter. Back at The Manor (that was the name of my restaurant in Charleston), we used to serve a cocktail that was garnished with borage owers.”

At this time, I was headed to Arizona on vacation. So, as any sane woman would do, I told my 80-yearold neighbor of my romantic journey and begged him to comb my daily for any sign of my

mail man. Sure enough, I received a frantic phone call where my neigh- bor asked for permission to read the latest note, which was in a plain white envelope. Strange … my lover always used his signature stationery.

“I’m writing, because I have a story to tell you. It’s a story about my husband. We met in Philly over 10 years ago, and I fell in love with him on our rst date over borage ower gimlets. From that day on, borage was our ower. He promised to stand by me forever and I did the same. But recently, he became withdrawn. He started spending late nights staring out the window, early mornings at ve writing letters on the porch.”

“Are you in love? Is he in love with you? After one phone call? Be honest with yourself! We’ve been together for more than a decade. We’ve married, whatever that means (obviously it means nothing to you). Send Clark home. For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. This is where he belongs. Gerry”

Clearly, Clark had been dishonest with me. Gerry was no former ame. She was his wife! Well, I did what any crazed woman in love would do. I typed a lengthy response to my competition.

“Gerry, Clearly you don’t understand the connection Clark and I have. This is no mere dalliance; this is something much bigger. The feelings Clark and I share are something you’ve never experienced or you would know that it’s time for you to step aside. After ten years together, it’s obvious there were problems long before I arrived. How did you not notice him slipping away? Why didn’t you have the level of communication in your relationship that allowed you to address this situation years ago? That was your fault and you waited much too long to address it.

“I have misled Clark a bit with who I really am. In reality, I’m quite wealthy. I use the cover of living in a small town in Minnesota as a way to suss out people’s motives before I open up to them. Clark immediately showed me that his intentions were pure. He didn’t hesitate for a minute before he even knew of the real lifestyle behind my facade. He would have happily incorporated me into his life thinking I was just a regular girl taking care of her aging Mother. “I’m able to offer him a world he was only able to dream of with you. A restaurant … really?! With me, he’ll be able to travel the world and have a chain of restaurants in every country should he wish. There are no limits to my creative energy or my ability to nance his/our EVERY whim. I’m sure he’ll enjoy spending part of the year on my yacht as the staff there will pamper us and keep the mundane day-to-day world away from us. We will focus on getting to know each other more deeply and growing our enduring amore!

“So, I’m sorry for your loss but quite excited for my gain! These things happen, Gerry. Please walk away with some dignity and if you feel Clark owes you something, I will forward funds to make sure you’re out of our lives for good. Just tell me what currency you prefer and I will have one of my bankers contact you posthaste.”

What seemed like only moments later, another envelope from my beloved arrived.

“Dear Mary, By now you’ve heard from Gerry. I never meant to hurt you or lie to you. I never even meant to hurt Gerry. To be honest, I love her. And I love you. And I just don’t know what to do.

“What do you think, Mary? Do you think I’ll ever nd love again with Gerry? If you do, I’ll go back to Greenville and see if we can work it out. Or do you think I should keep on living in the world you and I built together? The one where we can go hide away in a cabin in Nova Scotia and see the Northern Lights. Should we meet in the world where we stop waiting for our dreams to come true?”

My nal letter to Clark urged him to make the right decision!

“My Dearest Clark, I received your recent correspondence and my heart aches to hear your indecision. As I mentioned to Gerry, I feel it’s time for you to move on and nd the happiness you long for…with me! That being said, I won’t share you. I’m a much sought-after woman who will only be with someone who’s heart is focused and pure.

“I can give you the life you’ve only dreamed of but I’m not willing to compromise. My super yacht is currently docked in Tierra del Fuego. Should you make a decision, you can join me for dinner in Ushuaia before we depart. Should you decide not to meet me in Argentina, I want you to know that you will always have a special place in my heart!”

Soon enough, a postcard from South Carolina arrived.

“My Dear Mary, Your incredible honesty has inspired me to be honest with myself and with Gerry. It’s over, and I’ve gone to Charleston to begin initial planning for my new restaurant. Come meet me?! The Gin Joint … next weekend. We’ll get drunk and plan the menu for The Manor. Then, Argentina via Minnesota. I’ve never been to either!” 