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2005-07-09 - 7:49 p.m.

...reflections on past love...

K called me from Germany about one hour ago - he had gone out for the first night of Kulturarena, and called to tell me about it. Traditionally the first nights of Kulturarena are run by the local theater troupe. They take a traditional play by, oh, Schiller, Goethe, Shakespeare and create some god-awful modern adaptation. Well, some modern adaptations are reasonable, but I've never liked the local organization. Inevitably at least one person screams at the top of his lungs, and someone else strips off all of her clothing. K and his friends now take bets: who is the stripper? who is the screamer? when exactly will said acts occur?

K called to tell me that this year's performance was no exception. And then he said that he missed me and wished that I were there. I reminded him that the performance was awful..and expensive. He said, yes, but still, we could have hated it together. It made me smile. I love K.

Thursday, after the bombings in London, I contacted all of my friends to make sure that they were okay. My ex boyfriend used to live two stops from Edgeware Road, and I was worried for him. Apparently we haven't spoken for a long time, because in his newsy reply he told me that he is married and his wife is expecting a baby any day now. I felt a great happiness for him and at the same time I felt as if a special link between us had been broken. Our relationship had not and never would have worked, but I love him dearly, and my happiness for him was tainted slightly by remembrance of our failure together.

K's phonecall this evening was very cathartic for me, because it put the reality of my past into crystal clear perspective. In spite of our love and respect for each other, almost nothing with M was easy. It is not a failure to love someone but to discover that you are incompatible. It is healthy and perhaps wise to be able to say goodbye and still feel a deep love for him. Our parting may be one of our great successes, because in the end it brought him Helen, and it brought me K.

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