Tag Archives: Tiger Woods

Never Doubt I Love

Sad blue eyes and a fine even smile, his build bragged of gym dues and vegetables. A friend of a friend, that’s usually how these things start, he said he was recently divorced, forty years void of love. I believed him. If any man seemed starved for affection it was he and if anyone’s self-esteem had been ruthlessly damaged, it was his.

hugBoth over sixty, an odd age for a summer love but astounding beauty like his was a gift. Was my judgment clouded by perfection, my sight blurred by superb? I wanted him and I wanted him to know that I wanted him, and the tastes of his kisses were pastries of sensory delight. I savored each one, found joy in his touch. I devoured this man from each graceful finger to his strong lovely legs, gave him the tenderness he had learned to live without. Freely, without shame I admit to loving this man with all my might.

I guarded him jealously because I knew he would not be mine for long. As soon as he understood what a commodity he was in a world full of women, he’d be gone. Someone younger and prettier would get him that is exactly how it happened.

I got to love that man for only six months before he found her and it was painful as hell when he left. For three full months I cried, spent sleepless nights writing bad poetry, I even considered Prozac till I began to recognize a small spark of joy between each tear. I could be pleased for him because I knew that if anyone deserved happiness it was he. If anyone deserved to be appreciated, if anyone ever deserved to be loved it was this man.

Maybe Rumi was right when he said, The wound is the place where Light enters you.” Or maybe Bob Marley when he said, “Truth is everybody is going to hurt you. You just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.” But I clung to one thought, maybe she deserved him.

I am impressed with my heart. It’s still open, still willing to endure injury in order to love. I’m proud that this weird world hasn’t jaded me and no barriers protect from deep feeling. I’m only slightly crazy, I don’t drink… and I’d give all the Prozac in Walgreen’s to have a chance like that again, to help a deserving man grow in confidence and realize he is worthy of love. This was life affirming and there is no experience more existential than skin to skin, heart to heart, face to face contact and sharing vital breath with someone you love.

Then I did the math. Six months of bliss minus three months of melancholy, I’m ahead by three months. Net positive, bliss, hell, ya, I’d do it again. It beat the heck out of crocheting shawls by lamp light.

If you must lose in love, lose to a woman half your age with long gorgeous legs and a doctorate. A large house on acres of land is a plus, an heiress maybe with a sports car or two for good measure. Or to a kind, sincere, loving soul who rescues animals, volunteers with the elderly and keeps a vegetable garden.

I saw them in the analgesic section of Walgreens. I peered through the endcap gaping. She had a fake set of boobs like two fishbowls, her hem was crooked and her eyelashes came from a box. I wished them well (him more so than her). Perhaps he has found the woman of his dreams or an adolescent-like crush on a cheap shiny piece or maybe, just maybe she recues kittens between hair appointments. So goodbye to my handsome, make your life happy… and love… love willingly, love passionately, love with everything you’ve got.

But, damnation, if I had lived forty years of neglect and had a body like his, I’d keep looking. In truth, I’d probably be messing around like Tiger Woods on hell fire.

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Addiction?

I remember one day, a few years back, when Elin Woods was reported to take a golf club to her husband, Tiger’s, car. At that moment, I remember thinking,”He cheated and she found out.”

Sure enough, as the press reports filtered in, it was revealed that Tiger had not only cheated once, but several times.

Shortly thereafter, Tiger confessed to being a “sex addict.” Again, I saw it coming.

You see, it seems that recently, whenever someone does something wrong, they don’t own up to it. It’s more of the “I couldn’t help myself because I have an addiction.”

You know what?

I’m sick of it.

I’m sick of people not taking responsiblity for their actions and for the people they’ve hurt. Take Tiger Woods. Instead of owning up to his mistakes and admitting that yes, he cheated on his wife numerous times, he chose, what I feel is a complete and total cop-out. He held a press conference in which he claimed to have a “sex addiction.”

I’m going to call BS on that one.

You see, in my mind, an addiction is something that has a hold over you, something you can’t help but take part of. For that to occur, there’s got to be some sort of chemical manipulation. Tiger claimed sex addiction and I couldn’t help wonder why if he was so addicted to sex, why didn’t he have sex with his wife? To me, at least, he seemed to be addicted to having sex with other women. Is that really an addiction? A chemical imbalance? Something you have no control over?

I doubt it.

More likely, Tiger was relishing in the thrill of having sex with someone other than his wife and loved the excitement of trying not to get caught.

Addiction? I think not.

I apply this same principal to those who say they have a food addiction. Typically, these people are overweight and, in my opinion, trying to find an excuse.

Sorry, but there it is.

Food addiction? I completely doubt the validity of this condition.

Here’s the thing: When someone claims to have a food addiction, they tend to be drawn to fatty foods – pizza, ice cream, fried chicken, etc.. I can’t help but wonder why no one is ever addicted to, say, carrot sticks or leafy greens.

The other problem I have with this so-called condition is that you need food to survive. How can you be addicted to something that is essential to life? Is anyone addicted to water? Oxygen?

In my mind, a fodd addiction is not so much a food addiction as it is a lack of self control and once again, the quest to shift the blame onto something or someone else. It’s as if they’re saying “This weight problem isn’t really my fault. I can’t be held accountable. You see, I have this addiction to food….”

Again, I call BS on that one.

It’s time for all of us to own up to our actions, especially when our actions hurt ourselves or others. Tiger, hold a press conference and tell the world you’re just an ass and not someone with an addiction or, as I like to call it, an excuse for bad behavior. If you have a problem with making poor food choices, call it what it is – a lack of self control. No addiction “made” you eat that entire fried chicken or cheesecake. You made the choice and you are in control of your behaviors.

This is what I’ve tried to instill in my children. I’m tired of hearing the excuse “she made me…”

No. She did not.

“She” may have instigated you or pushed your buttons but you are the one who chose to hit, poke or do whatever in response. You are in charge of your own behaviors and it’s time we all accept that. What each of us does is our own choice and not the result of some condition or “addiction.”

Yes, I purposely put the quotes around that word.

If I seem a bit intolerant, I apologize. For the record, I do accept that there are many legitimate addictions. Many have fallen victim to drugs and alcohol. I get it. But in my opinion, we are taking it to the extreme.

No more, people! We all need to take responsibility for our actions. No wimping out and claiming “it’s not my fault” or “I couldn’t help myself.”

Take control of your actions. Apologize when necessary and simply say that you’ll do your best not to do it again. Personally, I’d rather hear a heartfelt apology than an excuse any day of the week.

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