Bye-Bye

Pages 53-100

I hardl y slep t a t all . No t becaus e Persona l A d snored , nor because th e ca t began kneadin g m y scalp ; both thos e things comforte d me . Th e proble m wa s sex. Sometime s sex work s a s a sedative , an d othe r time s it' s doubl e espresso. Sex ca n alway s g o eithe r way . A t time s afte r m y husband an d I mad e love , w e woul d fin d ourselve s i n a hu ggy- w u ggy m o° d , wherei n I' d pad abou t i n m y bath robe makin g oatmea l cookies , whil e h e sa t a t ou r kitchen tabl e readin g ou t lou d fro m th e Wall Street Journal . Bu t ther e wer e othe r time s whe n sex , eve n ver y good sex—perhap s especially ver y goo d sex—lef t u s o n edge, leery , a s i f w e eac h expecte d t o discove r a t an y moment tha t w e ha d accidentl y marrie d a dangerou s criminal. Sinc e h e wasn' t th e argumentativ e type , bu t rather th e civilize d type , m y husban d woul d gro w ver y quiet a t those time s an d the n com e u p wit h som e excus e to leav e the apartmen t fo r severa l hours . Both elevator s com e t o a stop wher e I' m waitin g o n the thirteent h floor, an d bot h set s of doors slid e open . I t occurs t o m e tha t thi s onl y happen s i n olde r buildings , where th e elevator s ar e no t ye t takin g computerize d turns. Thi s antiquated , inefficien t syste m force s m e t o choose, lik e Buridan s mule, betwee n tw o equa l entities . The door s begin hummin g shut . Whew. I ha d t o choos e betwee n lef t o r right . Jus t a s now I ca n onl y g o up or down. No t onl y ca n se x g o on e {53} way or the other, but sometimes entir e relationships ru n this wa y o r that , betwee n tw o poles . I pres s "L " fo r lobby, down . Befor e th e jazz pianist, I dated a sculptor. The sculpto r carved pieces of styrofoam scavenge d fro m the street . Hi s work was (an d still is) shown regularly in the Tote m Gallery . Onc e durin g th e nigh t on e o f hi s styrofoam sculpture s fell off its wall hook ont o the floor. Early the next morning, a cleaning woman whiske d th e piece int o he r dustpan , the n int o a n incinerator. Whe n he learne d abou t it , th e sculpto r sen t he r a fifty-dolla r tip. I never understood tha t or anything els e about him , just a s I never understoo d wh y ou r relationship skidde d this way, then tha t way, overcorrecting eac h time , mor e out o f contro l eac h time . Befor e i t wa s over , w e ha d fallen i n lov e fou r time s an d broke n u p fou r times , within six weeks. Even with Personal Ad, while outwardly our courtshi p appears to have progressed steadily from drink s to dinne r to mor e drink s t o sex , inwardly I fin d mysel f veerin g between attractio n an d repulsion . Okay , sinc e my di vorce , mos t o f my relationship s hav e followe d thi s course, whic h ca n lead , o n th e on e hand , t o weep y heart-to-heart reconciliations , and on the other hand, to sudden, absolute disbandments. Between me and my ex-husband, however, ultimatel y there wa s n o warm , postcrisi s reunion— nor an...