Ooh Ooh Ooh, Now, Baby, Please Don't Go.

In an unfortunate turn of circumstances, Mum Guy has taken a turn for the worst and is perhaps on a limited pass through the transoms of this mortal coil for much longer. About this, I'm sad for Guy and his family. But it's neither unexpected nor is it going to be an utter devastation to the Guy Clan as a whole, though it'll likely be very complicated. I certainly can't appear at a public mourning, nor can I send a sympathy card, but I did iterate to Guy that my love and sympathies were with both he and his kids. 

So Guy and Lady GuyGuy are packing up their own sprawling suburban family homestead of 25 years and looking to downsize somewhere in the City. That's all well and good, and while I don't see Lady GuyGuy as an urban dweller (she'll probably buy those dreadful Hunter rain boots), I had a friend predict that Guy would pack up & move to the city like 2 years ago and it's actually coming true. With this, I have no problem, other than the fact she's coming along in the first place. Last week, when we talked, he said they were simply packing up the girls' stuff and putting it in the attic to paint the house. Sunday, he said they were putting the house on the market. Rather abrupt, but I guess decision making takes time, etc. It's an odd move for a Catholic family with 3 unmarried children, to abandon the homestead, though I guess the Guy Family has all of that worked out & the kids are taken care of on their own. 

Then he brings up the chance or opportunity to move out of state when he retires (which won't be THAT far in the future). He mentioned Portland (I poo poo'd), or, jokingly, Oklahoma City (which my friends and I ALL poo poo'd), or Tennessee. "You want to live in a red state? In the Bible Belt?" I asked. He was laughing the whole time. I just kept repeating "No. No. No. No, you can't go. You can't move away. You PROMISED you wouldn't abandon me." Granted, it's selfish and tacky of me to be complaining about Guy's life plans when his mother is dying, but it was tacky of him to tell the woman in love with him who has the world's WORST abandonment AND Daddy complexes that he has his mitts on planning to disappear forever. So I kept saying "NO. No. No. NO!!" (He's probably like, "Jesus, bitch, calm down. They do make airplanes, you know..."

What made things all the more strange was him asking me how long it'll be before I graduate from my masters program. "A year and a half," I said. "So you could practice anywhere...." Yes, theoretically, I could.  I haven't decided yet if I want to pursue a doctorate in psychology or Creative Writing, which, again, could take place anywhere. "And Luke?" I asked. I said, "Maybe I could move away when he's out of college...." and Guy said, "Or high school." (Um, Luke's going into high school NEXT YEAR.) 

The confounding part is that none of the Annie Consortium can understand Guy's motive in giving a damn when my son and I will be independent. It could've been pure curiosity. It could've been a loose "What if?" A friend said if that was the case, it'd be a pretty cruel idea to throw out to me under the circumstances, aloud anyway, knowing how I feel.

 Does this mean he wants me to follow him? If there's anything that man knows, it's that I'd crawl the depths of the earth not to lose him. That said, I'd NEVER, EVER uproot my family (my mom's not part of this equation) for a "What if?" It's been offered to me before--the chance to essentially be a man's "kept woman" in another state, but I declined, and in a lot of ways, I regret it, but in some ways, I don't. Hey, if things fall apart eventually between Guy and Lady GuyGuy, terrific. I'm totally there. (Actually, I'd tell him to haul his ass back to Chicago.) If he decides one day to choose the freedom, passion, intellectualism, humor, beauty, talent, dedication and appreciation of someone who 100% unconditionally adores him, he'd be making a great decision as he enters his twilight years. His socks could be rocked off for decades to come by the one woman he knows would refuse to stagnate his vim until the day we both die. (To put it bluntly, Guy, no, I don't believe being colorblind and building jigsaw puzzles is or could be more fun than hanging out with me. We could still have our walks on the beach, and I'd splash you with cold water and you'd get mad at me, and we'd retire to wherever we're habitating and you could take your shirt off and I'd ogle over the much-ballyhooed gray chest hair we all found out finally that you have (oof). 

Guy thinks I really need someone "to shack up with." Well, gee, Guy, that's only been covered in what, the last 30 blogs? He's just scared, uh, stiff, that he's the one with whom I want to shack the most. Yes, it would change a lot of things for us. For everyone. But the Consortium is still in agreement that he totally digs being so massively physically adored by me and secretly doesn't want me to stop taking about it (or at least he didn't tell me to shut up when I read him all the subsequent commentary about bedding me after the last he'd read having been BMF's "Carpe Diem, Guy!"

Guy's worst flaw is that he let an artist fall in love with him. Artists and writers are raft with rich fantasies, and find a lack of passion fatal. Our hearts also suffer the most breakage. But somehow, we wouldn't trade it for the blah of what is certainly the life of people we know living together now.....you know what I'm saying?

"I'm better for the smile you give, and while I live, I will follow you. Will you follow me?" --Genesis, from the last blog.

In any case, prayers and good vibes to Mum Guy the closer she gets to the gates, and he should know I'm always around to help pick up pieces, or talk, or snuggle. Just stay. Please stay.