The great love of my life marries today and I am not the groom. I had my chance, a few years ago, but did not realize until too late how fleeting my moment with her was meant to be. Whether it was my fault or hers, and, let's face it, it was probably mine, I will wonder always about the life I might have had with the most loving and loveable woman I have ever known. Sometimes, I finally now understand, love, even crazy love, is not enough. Sometimes, as the romance novelists know, timing is everything.Offering absolution to someone who moved on and calling it a humble gift? Yipes. This reads like a drunk dial in column form.
-snip-
The present I humbly send her today is this column; this public note, this irrevocable display of affection and support and gratitude; this worldly absolution from any guilt or sadness she felt between the time she said no to me and the time she said yes to him. No one ought to have to carry that with them into a marriage. I showered her with as much love as I could muster when we were together. I still love her and always will. So I am only too happy to offer my toast to her now, one more time, before she takes her vows.
*Update: In keeping with the journalistic mission of this blog, here's a relevant comment on the Washington City Paper site: "Where were his editors?! Editors: You have the power to stop this kind of self-destructive catharsis-by-column."
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1 comment:
"Where were his editors?! Editors: You have the power to ..."
... to do nothing in these supposedly "politically correct" times.
His editors could have been accused of harassment by some twisted PC logic if they had refused to print the column.
"Emotional abuse!" could have cried the love-spurned columnist.
No better to just let it go and let this "journalist" show his true colors and go looking for new job as a script writer for Lifetime Movie of the Week.
But the best explanation as to how this got into print: The column probably went directly to page-design because so many copy editors have been laid off in the past three years.
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