You guys know I’m a little “not right” in the head so you won’t be surprised to read that every once in a while I stalk my exboyfriends on FB. I don’t know what got me to thinking about Jay but I looked him up and as usual found very little on FB but for some reason I went ahead and did a straight g.oogle search for him. He was named after his dad and when the article first popped up with his name I thought how sad it was his father had died. As I went on to read the details I realize, it wasn’t telling about the dad but about Jay himself. I was shocked and saddened when I realized it was his obituary. I spent the evening in a funk thinking about him. He was a saxophone player and such a sweet, gentle, intelligent man.
I used to love going to see him play in the various bands he was in or hear him playing around the house. He had very soft, sexy lips. He would cut me off right in the middle of a sentence with a kiss and afterwards say he just couldn’t help himself. God, I loved kissing that man. The sexiest thing about him was how he could make me laugh. I have loving memories of lying in bed together after having sex, talking and laughing.
The first time he met my coworkers he totally charmed them all, even the staid music teacher and as we were leaving he told them he hoped he would be able to get to know them much better. He kissed me for a long time in the middle of the street that night until one of my coworkers walked by and giggled which made us giggle too.
I loved watching his childhood dog, Taffy, greet him in his parents’ home. She had adoring eyes for him alone while we were there. I admit I was a little jealous. One time we walked past a cute little dachshund which he admired and said if we “went the distance” we had to make a dog like that part of the family. I liked the idea. Rosie, my cat at the time, loved him. Clara B. Dog was slow to warm up but she liked him too. She did not care for being brushed but she would let him groom her.
Occasionally, he would bring me one of those roses you see in the gas station, for no particular reason. He drove a tiny silver T.iburon and I was always self conscious about having to stuff myself into it. He took me to see fireworks from the Eads Bridge on the Fourth of July. When I refused to let him spend any money on a gift for my birthday, he gave me the mini hotel soaps from his recent trip which he knew I collected. I gave him a little glass frog to put by his shaving mirror so he would think about me every day. He smoked cigarettes which I disliked. He smoked pot which I hated.
He was a bit lacking in direction. Working at a music store, he would complain about being treated like but not paid like a manager but he never did anything to change the situation or better himself. He had earned a GI Bill but didn’t use it which annoyed me because I would have loved to go to school for free.
The first time we had dinner with his parents who were so sweet themselves, I was struck by the staunch gender roles in the house. When his dad’s glass was empty, he actually put it in front of the mother and said he needed some more milk. The mother jumped right up to get it for him. I know my eyes popped wide open. We had a long discussion on the way home that night over the gender expectations in our relationship and future. I pretty much let him know if he ever made a demand on me like that while he was able bodied, he’d be covered with milk shortly afterward.
He was trainable though. When I brought something up, anything, he would always speak for the “other side” just for conversation’s sake. I was having a hard time with my boss at school during that time and I would come home and complain about her. He spoke in her favor a few times but after I said something to him about it he never lacked support for me again.
He was a gentleman and I always felt cherished by him. For a time, I thought he was the one. I remember my ovaries simply flipping over as I watched him play with his nephew. Of course, this was before becoming a SMC was even near to being a thought in my head. I thought a happy ending was possible for me back then. After dating for six months, we had that talk about moving to the next step or moving on. He said he enjoyed spending time with me but as far as loving me…well…he didn’t want to hurt me. But it was too late…I’d fallen for him by our second date. I told him if he didn’t love me or didn’t think he could we should end it before I lost anymore of my heart.
Five year old Stretch comforted me by telling me she knew he “wasn’t for you, Paige.” I regret not sticking with it longer. I doubt his feelings would have changed but if they had we would have had a good life together, I’m sure of it. Maybe I would have been fertile back then, maybe there would have been children.
He battled colon cancer for a year. I wrote his sister a note through FB but we’re not friends on there and it will go to her “other” folder so she will probably never see it. I’m saddened for his parents as I know only too well the terrible hollow wound losing a child creates. He was buried last year on my birthday….while I was at my happiest being pregnant with my Sparks.
This morning I was still thinking of him. On the way to work, a red car passed me and there he was on the license plate, “JAY xxx” not sure what the numbers were anymore. It made me smile. Later in the day, I had to call a financial institution to close an account, what do you think my representative’s name was? That’s right…”Jay”. I figure it must be his way of showing up here, letting me know he’s ok. I just can’t believe he’s not out there in the world somewhere…that there’s not even a possibility of ever bumping into him or catching up with him online. This world has a little less music without Jay in it. I imagine him soothing my babies to sleep with his saxophone in Heaven.