London Calling?

I find that when I am in a good place mentally, having a good relationship, traveling for fun and business, successfully writing and publishing, etc., former friends and lovers come out of the woodwork they burrowed into when things were not so good and I really needed them. And, since all of my business is broadcast on Facebook and otherwise online, it’s easy enough to find out what I am doing and what my “status” is in just about every realm.

So when my relationship with the Playwright went public and it looked promising that it was a very good and healthy step in my life, the London Bird reared her head and my phone rang. Oh my, that trip to New York she couldn’t make last fall because she had rekindled her romance with an on-again-off-again lover, well…could we make plans for her to come visit me sometime soon? It was great to talk to her after such a long time, but I was caught off guard about the visit request and said I’d have to think about it.

I was all angsty and anxious when I went to therapy that week. I told my therapist I wanted to see London, she was fun and we had had a great time together last year, but I certainly did not want to ruin my relationship with the Playwright. My therapist said London was triangulating, trying to insert herself between the Playwright and me. Yeah, I suppose, I granted, she’s an alcoholic with immense intimacy issues and insecurities. And, she didn’t come to NYC in the fall like we planned and when I really wanted and, I felt, needed, her to come. My therapist was right: London was probably single again and wanted to feed off my good fortune in life.

I wrote what I thought was a very measured email to London that I was in a good space with a good relationship that I had no intention of damaging by her staying with me. She indicated she would respect my relationship and she wouldn’t push sex. But geezus, I live in a studio with one bed, a visit by London just would not work out without someone getting hurt, probably me the most. London replied with a terse email that she understood and would call me on the weekend.

I haven’t heard a peep from the London Bird since.