One forlorn Saturday

 

One forlorn Saturday





    A sad fact of a young man's life is that eventually his friends find other ways to spend their time and leave the circle of safety he has enjoyed. That bubble of security also is a way of avoiding the struggle to find a mate or discover a way to cope with loneliness and self deprecation that comes with being single. In our early 30's the dominoes began to fall and the happiness and percieved contentment of making romantic commitment became an urgent need.  Timo lead the way, twice. I put the right gold band on the wrong left hand in 1983 and Greg looked around with unease at the possibilities of love in his shrinking social circle. It was discussed ad nauseum about finding wives or girlfriends but it was never easy despite the handsome and educated kid's possible partner bona fides. As he moved into his 30's he had experienced several affairs but had never cohabitated and never got down on a knee to propose to any lucky lady. To such a gentleman seeking feminine company the weekends are prime time for finding companionship. Yet, leaving the  safe bubble and making oneself vulnerable is far more difficult than the books, movies and pop songs make it look. Added to the tough sell is the attitude this possible paramour carries around of hesitancy and a lack of confidence. We all scanned the possibilities constantly and despite getting hammered repeatedly our desperate choices we were driven on by society's demands to be "normal" and the pure and simple pain of being unwanted. And so it was that Greg was spurred on by these complex feelings to get out in the wonderful world of Los Angeles to be around other people and possibly find the miracle of love. His destination was the museum MOCA that challenged his boundaries of cultural knowledge and was easy to find. It was as he tells it "one forlorn Saturday" when he hopped in his Toyota and drove to downtown LA where he felt comfortable but still alone in the big city. It was there in the halls of the museum where he spotted a young woman he had worked with and admired from afar at Gensler. Her name was  Lissy and a flame flickered in his sad heart. The rest is history.




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