Which way is this exotic beast heading? Both ways, you say? Neither way? I think you're right.

Will Lorna How does Lorna How will Lorna sort out her muddled thoughts and feelings about her life?

Meeting Haley’s Comet (HC)—the boyfriend formerly known as Super Nova—for just 5 minutes effected me in these ways:

  1. I felt alive. My heart ker-thumped like a washer with an off-balanced load of 20 XXL flannel shirts.
  2. I felt giddy. I was transported back to someone else’s life—someone with perpetual great hair, no bra-bulges, and who could belt out a show tune a Capella.
  3. I felt noticed.  HC recognized me! I was someone special; I just didn’t know who.
  4. I felt confused. I was a married mother of one great son. I loved them and they needed me, if only for my awesome bread-baking talent.
  5. I felt immediately for my Divine Journal and began writing like my life depended on it. Because it did.

I tend to purse my lips when I concentrate rather than loll my tongue out. Other than that, this is a good rendition of how focused I was on journaling.

Knowing that anything I wrote in my journal was as confidential as what was whispered between a hit-man and the woman who hired him, I wrote with wild ramblings about HC (past, present and, sigh cleansing breath, future) and my mind-numbing , spirit-crushing guilt over anything HC-related. I had my own “Pushmi-Pullyu” beastie inside me. I’d never felt so deliciously distraught.

In a moment of Divine Inspiration, I stopped writing so feverishly, believing that the fiery writing was making me hotter than I already was. If I stopped obsessing dwelling visualizing us kissing  thinking about HC so much, maybe I could focus on the deeper issue: what was missing in my marriage/life that made escaping from it seem so appealing neat to write about? So I Divinely journaled about that, which led me right back to HC. I saw a pattern developing, so I closed the journal and began reading more about finding my inner Divine Self. I needed wanted hoped I was more Divine than a guilty compulsive journal writer obsessively not thinking about my former boyfriend. The Divine Books, I was sure, held my answers.

These should keep me distracted, er, busy for a while. If I don't find the answers I seek, I'll be back.

Lucky for me the administration at my college was treating the faculty like crap. Newly tenured, I was immune from the former policy of firing nontenured faculty the current president disliked for their political views or hair styles. When I decided to take an active, public role to fight for a fair and equitable contract, Chuck was 100% behind me. That man loved taking on a good cause; and he was a brilliant chess-player. He could see the game the administration was playing and advised the faculty, through me, how to stop being on the defense and start playing offence. I was the articulate, intelligent, sweet-heart voice of the faculty; Chuck was behind the scenes, coaching me. Together, we made an incredible team when we were working toward a common goal.

Mr. and Dr. Incredible, only we were rarely seen in our fancy-pants outfits so as not to forewarn our opponents.

HC faded into the background. I had a partner who cared about me—the professional part of me—but me, nonetheless. Chuck was proud that I was quoted in the newspaper, wrote erudite letters to the Editor, and even inspired a few editorials. I was proud of me when he was proud of me. His business was also increasingly successful. A new feature to his success—bonuses and profits—made a few vacations and home improvements possible. I felt like we were on the same train, hooked together, and headed toward the same destination—a lifetime together.

I didn't say we were speeding along or it was all easy going...just that we were together.

I received a yearly birthday email from HC and he received one from me. I loved and hated those emails. Sometimes, the emails were simple catch-me-ups. On occasion, conversations developed until it seemed like we were standing on the edge of some rickety bridge that wasn’t safe to even think about crossing. We had something special, something elemental, between us and I didn’t want HC out of my life. He went away once and came back. What were the odds? But HC had a family and so did I. We missed our chance to be together. My internal “Pushmi-Pullyu” was hard at work not picking one direction.

If it’s true that everyone has one “the one that got away,” HC was that one for me. Chuck knew as much. We talked early in our marriage about old flames. I told him about HC. He told me about a girl he never quite got over: HB (Chuck was Her Boss). But HB never came back into Chuck’s life (that I knew of).

So we kept our cherished distance. I wrote about my Divine Conflict in my Divine Journal and not in emails to HC.

I'll stay on my side and, HC, you stay on yours. There's no such thing as meeting in the middle in this scenario.

Life was manageable placid good until 1994-ish when Chuck read my Divine Journal.

This seems to be a case of who betrayed whom.