Len and the Ferociously Beautiful Me

His name popped into my head. Len Callahan. Our leisurely secret lunches at the Bookstore Cafe downtown. No more than that and maybe a phone conversation. Did I call him? Where did I even meet him. What fun flirting we had though. Him married far too young; I think. Me in my gorgeous ferocious hormonal prime. What would he be like now?

White Pages Anyone?

In twenty minutes, I know where he lives. He’s three years older than me, 60 years old. And of Course he’s a Virgo. That would have had me very enrapt. I even have access to a phone number or two.

“Hi, this is Shalagh, is this Len? Do you remember me? Where did we meet? How’s your life going?”

What in the world is going on with my brain!?

Stalker’s Are Us

Online, I can even see his neighbors’ addresses. This is what con people look for to set you up as a mark? Sit in cars outside houses stalking people. Why would I suddenly be pondering any of this? We’re both married. Him in a Million-dollar house in the countryside. Me on a river on the Eastern Shore.

I Want to Remember ME

Because I want to remember what it was like to be young and beautiful. I want to remember what it was like to be adored and lusted after. Remember how I felt to be in that body that contained so much energy and power, to be wanted.

Ferocious beautiful me. Was I the working-class girl who he met in a bar where I worked? I think I was.  I remember now. It was Fat Lulu’s. I served him and his friends a lot of drinks as they escaped from their work worlds for a three-hour lunch. Len was more subdued. He had sandy hair and a big strong build. And for feck’s sake, he had an Irish name. There was something I wanted to see; perhaps myself in his eyes and voice that made me feel better about myself than the man I was with at the time?

Why?

Maybe he was going to save me, the damsel in distress perhaps? Maybe I wanted saving? I wanted to be wanted again. Or I just needed someone to fantasize about? Maybe I still do. Or maybe I just needed to remember who I used to be so I can rise to meet her beautiful ferociousness once again and love her ever onward.

Whatever this was, I also have an immense respect for the woman he wed who gave him children and a home. His life was his life to live and mine was mine. Perhaps he once even cheated on her at some point and she took him back. They may have lost a child together and begun a foundation in her name. That is his story not mine. Meanwhile, I had a fun run down memory lane and no, I didn’t look him up on Facebook.