Something there is in the contrast between the delicious anticipation during the slice of time spent going To see a lady, and the poignant coda to the tryst – the time slice containing the Fro'(m): the farewells, the leaving her and the going home. The duration of the time spent in To and Fro’ may be the same as measured on a clock, but nevertheless they are unequal in joy content, and there is thus, at least for me, Unbearable Imbalance. I recognize that many of you will have no idea of what I am talking about, and in some ways I envy you for your Balance. But others will know exactly of what I write here: I appreciate comments from you, as well as the Ladies.Going To- is the gleeful ritual of planning the meeting; making the calls, plundering the ATM for the donation (dollytithe); finding the orchid or flowers or book or wine; composing the prose and writing it onto the card to tuck into the envelope; checking Mapquest for the location of the tryst; fabricating the lies (spoken with forked tongue and straight face) to explain my absence for the next few hours to my partner; driving carefully, accompanied by lovely, heartfelt music (in my case Beethoven, Mozart, John Mayall, Pahinui or Enya); parking blocks away, and then walking and wandering the neighborhood (because I am often too early); calling to discover the room number or announce my imminent arrival. And then, the delicious, heart-racing saunter to Her Front Door, often flushed red from the Blue Pill and anticipation…., the pressing of the bell/tapping of the door… And there She is!, with lovely smile, welcoming arms and greeting kiss: let’s play!! for the next hour or so…..
Going From, or Fro’- should be much like To in reverse. After all it is the same distance from Her Front Door to the car, the same amount of time to drive home. But walking away from Her Front Door, is nothing like walking To, is it? I have always gone To ladies in anticipation and excitement. And I have occasionally gone Fro’ ladies in similar ecstasy. But generally I have left them with some well-disguised sadness, even blundered through fogs of emotion (and in one case driving in a true fog in which, lost, I discovered the wilder environs of Emeryville and Oakland). I may even on occasion have parted in calmness. But I have never gone Fro’ my dates in the same joyful way in which I went To them. There has almost always been the Unbearable Imbalance of To and Fro’…
The following is a loving dedication: I have learned a lot about myself in my goings To and Fro’ because my ATF (Always Tender Friend), is a Lady with whom I have sufficient affectionate and friendly contact beyond our dates, that she has mitigated an Imbalance that’s nowhere as Unbearable as it used to be: she is the only one I now focus on… So, dearly loved ATF here are my public grateful kisses, wafting their way to you on fragrant zephyrs….
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