The Cowboy Who Rode Into the Sunset and Out of My Life

How often do you think about “the one that got away?” A lot? Perhaps your love life sucks just as much as mine does. For me personally, I hadn't thought of him all that much, just once in awhile when I heard Tracy Chapman's song, "The Promise."

Well, that is, until recently.

Strangely, all of the sudden, a few weeks ago, “The One Who Got Away” (we’ll call him “Towga” for short) entered my mind in a blaze of fire, and has been burning away in there ever since. I can’t explain it. I don’t feel especially lonely. Boyfriends (and sex) are always great, but I’ve been through drier patches than this one by far (and have even had a recent offer for a naughty tryst in a nearby city with an ex). I’m enjoying my apartment even more and am no longer a slave to wicked pharmaceutical side effects. What gives? I don’t know...yet. Maybe I’ll figure it out later.

So, what do I do? Of course, Google! I plug in Towga’s name. The results are disappointingly meager. Two hits. One’s from 1999 and a state I know he doesn’t live in anymore. The second one shows the school he teaches at now, though it’s over a year old, and doesn’t offer an email address (that's what I’m really after). Why don’t people update their websites, damn it!?!?

Being the talented cybersleuth that I am, I didn’t give up there. And besides, now I was on a mission, no no, a CRUSADE! I tried people searches, phone directories, teacher pages, etc. I received some results, though what I was truly looking for, and not finding, was an updated email address. Too bad there is no “white pages” for email, though I doubt that would really fly anyway, seeing a) as they change so often and b) how most people wouldn’t want that so public (think of the spam!) I even paid $15 for 3 months of Classmates, thinking if it didn't work, at least I could now email all those people from high school I'd fallen out of touch with (and have already had one really nice letter from a friend from 19 years ago!).

Now in this search, there appeared to be one teeny weeny glitch. A wife. In the whitepages, he is listed with her. He's married? No! When I knew Towga well, years ago, he had been divorced. I think I will never forget the comment he had made:

“I married a drunk and made her drunker.”

That comment has always struck me since you don’t often see such honesty (and self-blame) from a divorcee.

But I get ahead of myself. Let me introduce dear Towga. I guess I met him nearly 10 years ago -- it was on the internet (yeah yeah, i know). He was a bit older than me, one of the first, since up until then, most guys I liked were within 1-2 years of me. He was going to grad school in Biology. (Brainy men always drive me wild with desire!). But he had something most men didn’t, he was a real cowboy! Yeehaw! He raised horses, and you could tell it meant the world to him. One of these people for whom horses are more than a pet, they are part of the fabric of his being. I was both admiring him and envious of him. I’ve always loved horses so much and make it a point to try and ride them when I’m vacationing somewhere (both on the beach in Thailand and in the woods in New Zealand), but they’re something you only have if you own a farm or you have a last name like Hilton or Onassis.

We flirted off and on for years, and then in 2000, it started to heat up. I think I screwed it up though; I’m not sure. There’s such an ugly side to me when I’m in a relationship. I think it’s one of the reasons I never try hard to be in one – for the most part, I hate who I am. There's a really beautiful side to me (well, anyone!) when in love, but unfortunately for me there is also a dark side. I’m better than I used to be, but still not where I’d like to be.

Anyway, we were both seriously toying with me visiting. I had a car then, and was desperate to do it, but was also languishing in insecurity. The thought of showing up, after a long drive and just disappointing him was something that plagued me, in an irrational way (and at times still does). Then one night online when he suddenly disappeared while we were talking about this, my emotions high (I might actually get in the car tonight and do this!), I sent off a pissy email. Stupid. It was soon after this that he cut off contact with me. And I had some mongo huge regret to deal with.

I couldn’t get a hold of him after that; I knew that I had disappointed him (and myself) by being one of these emotional pissy girls. My passion is something I cherish most of the time, but there are times when its taking over of my mind and body is not a good thing. I’m actually someone who does not usually get angry, and very rarely raise my voice in anger, but when I do, it can be fierce, and it’s usually only with a significant other (great!). At one point he sends a quick note that he wanted to talk to me, that there were some things he wanted to tell me, ... I was hopeful! But I never heard from him again.

SIGH

Now, we fast forward to the present. Towga is swirling around in my consciousness. I still can't find him, but then I have a brilliant idea! When browsing the crappily made pages of the high school he works at, I notice the familiar school address, something like teachername@schoolname.k-12.stateabbreviation.us. My other friends who are schoolteachers in other states have email accounts with the same format. I’m a genius! I’ll just use the format they use (first initial+last name@school.k-12.us-state.us and it should get to him no problem! I was almost overwhelmed with hope and suspense. I wouldn't have to wait long. After 60 seconds, it bounced back. Failed again.

I let some time go by. All this searching was beginning to make me feel like a freak. In my zeal to locate him, I had used another fantastic website, ancestry.com ($1 for two weeks, and then a 30 minute hard-sell phone conversation to 'cancel'), which didn't help me much with him, but did finally give me the push I needed to start working on my own family tree -- something I've wanted to do for some time. For my one dollar, I managed to map out all branches of my family back to the home countries (Norway and Germany). Not bad! If I had more money, I'd go further, but for now, that's very satisfying. If you ever want to have some fun, check out your relatives on an early census (1930 ore eariler, the 18th century ones are a real treat!).

But Towga? No, stuck at square one. I have only one option left, but I'm not really interested in doing it. One, this "final" step will confirm that I'm a stalker psycho, and two, it involves talking on the phone, something I've never really enjoyed, despite my two X chromosomes.

What is it? To call the high school he works at and try to extract a current email address from them. I pondered how to do this, since nowadays acquiring "personal information" is not such a simple task.

I let another day go by.

And another. This is just stupid.

Then I remembered my old friend Andrea, a cute pixie of a woman, but by no means a supermodel. She had no fear asking men out, and was often successful. When I asked her in disbelief how she could be so fearless, she replied, "Well, if he says 'yes,' that's great, and if he rejects you, then you have a great story to tell for a long time!" I smiled. Fantastic, and absolutely right. Not that I followed her advice to the letter, but since then, I have taken a few chances I might not have, "just for the story." And I do love to tell a good story.

So, okay, if I call up and it's a disaster, then I'll have something to write in my blog!! Well, the truth is, I don't lack for subject matter -- I still have a post-it next to me right now with 5 things I still haven't written about which are inching further and further into the past and farther from my mind. But, if this was a crash and burn scenario, it would at least INSPIRE me to write, and it's not the ability or subject that stifles me, it's my ever-fluctuating inspiration and motivation. What's more motivating than a devastating event? Spread that misery around!

So, I locked myself in my boss' office (no, she wasn't around), and after mumbling a mantra of courage before my trembling fingers picked up the phone, I steeled myself for a cool response – expecting some sort of resistance from my inquiry I was surprised that it went differently, almost too well. Let’s listen in:

Her: Hello! Noname School.
Me: Hi, um, I’m trying to reach one of your teachers, if he is still working there.
Her: Sure, what’s his name?
Me: Towga.
Her: Oh yes, he’s teaching a class right now. If you hold on, I’ll go get him and see if he wants to take this call.
Me: *panic* *splutter* Um, no no, don’t get him, I mean, that really isn’t necessary, this isn’t an important call. I just knew him at HisUniversity’sName. (Yes, a TOTAL lie. Like I would say ‘off the internet!”) (sidenote: I had pondered pretending to be a parent of one of his students, but that seemed too dangerous, and so, that plan was scrapped).
Her: Okay, here, you want his cellphone? Let me give it to you.
Me: Oh, um, okay, sure *fumbles frantically for paper/pen*
Her: *rattles off number*
Me: Um, *pause* do you have an email address for him? (too scared to actually phone his cell)
Her: No, sorry.
Me: Um, (still not wanting to call) could I leave you my name and email for him? You could stick it in his box or something.
Her: Sure.
Me: *rattles off my impossibly long name with equally impossible long name@yahoo.com* Um, thanks so much. Bye.
Her: Goodbye.
Me: *faint* *continues to tremble*

Now, that happened a couple weeks ago. Thinking I'd get an email that same day, I experienced a tiny stroke each time I heard Yahoo's unsettling gunshot sound signaling a new email. Yet, that first day went by, and then another, and another, and still another. I began to feel the crippling disappointment of every email being a NOT HIM email. Of course, my friend did nothing to dispel my mild hysteria. When I relayed to him the gist of the phone call and how I had left my message, my friend quickly replied, “Yeah, if he ever gets it.”

!!!!

Gah! Don’t tell me that! Of course, that became the only thing allowing me to keep a shred of dignity. I first tried the “Maybe he doesn’t have access to the internet” as my excuse for him, but quickly dashed that one seconds later when I realized how ridiculous THAT was.

Okay, it looks like I'm going to have to call. I just HAVE to know. I just have to put this to rest. It's that important.

I wanted to do it Wednesday, but the expectation that my heart just might explode in my chest kept that from happening. Thursday? Feeling better, still can't do it. Okay, Friday, this is it. I waited anxiously until, wonder of wonders, all 5 surrounding workmates had cleared out for lunch or meetings. Once again, locked myself in my boss's office. Stared at the phone, and then, heart hammering, called.

He answered, and for a moment I was thrown off. He sounded old. Not like "older than me" which I expected, but old as in "old man's voice" old. I said hello and told him my name (hoping that he actually remembered it, since he knew me mostly by my online "handle"). Luckily, he did. Immediately, I could hear the familiar sounds of an active classroom, and asked if he was teaching now. He was (and he answered the phone?) and we decided I'd call back at 5pm for him (6pm my time).

Tick tock tick fucking tock.

So, once again, after most had left for the day, I locked myself in another colleague's office and called. At first the conversation was a bit rough, and I agonized over the possibility of having to carry the conversation. But as time went on, he loosened up more and then the conversation got nice...flowed along. We talked for over an hour and a half. It was one of those conversations where you're like, "Okay, I should go now" and then one of you just kind of launches into another subject/story and you're both off again, chatting away. That happened about three times before we really did hang up.

As I mentioned, he is a high school teacher, and as he talked, he stirred up all of my own memories of teaching, and how amazing and fulfilling it felt when you really loved it, when you really got into it, and when you knew you were really good at it. It has been about a week now since that conversation, still, that tug in my heart to teach is still there. But I live in NYC and the thought of teaching here (lion taming) scares the shit out of me. I admit, I hate a difficult class and the whole icky discipline part. By the time I left Thailand, I had made it a fine art, but I was also almost exclusively teaching one particular class and so knew each individual very well. It's different when you have several different classes.

Well, the big question still hangs in the air, doesn't it? (ARE YOU REALLY MARRIED?). I didn't say it like that, I do have some dignity! But I did let the conversation flow into asking him about kids, and he said, "No, but I do have a stepdaughter, and she has her own children, so I'm actually a grandfather." Woah.


OH NO! :( Step-daughter = comes with wife too. NO! NO! NO! NO!

So, there you have it, folks. He's married and has (step) grandchildren. Sheesh. The guy's only ten years older than I! You'd think he was a senior citizen.

At the end of the call, I urged him to login (to our little internet home) and make sure not to be a stranger again. After I hung up, I doubted he would, at the very least, it wouldn't be soon. He sounded happy, content, with his teaching job and his 24 horses (yes, TWENTY-FOUR) horses. Oh, Towga, I missed my chance, and now you're unattainable. Well, I'm a bit bummed, but glad I went through all of this. It's true, it's always better to know than die wondering.