Soulmate Anniversary

On June 23rd, 1990, I got on the train and went from New Jersey to downtown Philadelphia. It was my first train ride. I hadn’t a clue where I was going, only knew I took this train and was supposed to get off at 8th and Market.

I did that, got there a little early, sat on a big cement planter and watched the people go by. One of them might be Lorna. Somehow, I knew which one was her. I saw her coming down the sidewalk, wearing slacks, loafers, and a maroon button up shirt. She looked so old! It’ll never work. (she was 38)

Lorna saw me get off the planter and start toward her. I was wearing jeans, high top sneakers and a white t-shirt. She thought: “She looks so young! It’ll never work.” (I was 25)

That was at 11am.

We went to South Street then caught a movie at the Ritz (Longtime Companion). We went out for dinner then went to Hepburns, an all womyn bar. We went upstairs to the dance floor and pool hall to watch them play. We were sitting there, now quite comfortable with each other, when I said, “I have never slow danced with a woman.” We laugh about it, discuss dancing styles, and continue to watch them play pool. The very next song…you guessed it! A slow dance! We both felt obligated to go out there, so we did. And, for the one and only time of all the times I went there, it was the only time they played two in a row.

Time passed and we were still having a blast. It is 1am and I pull out my train ticket. That is when I read that the last train was at 11:30pm. I finally told Lorna, after running my brain around in circles for alternatives, and she agreed to drive me over to my car. Not only was it my first train ride, but it was her first time to drive into that part of NJ.

At some point during our first day together, we realized that maybe perhaps we could be more than friends. Maybe. She was still wanting to date several of the other women again (we met through an ad in the Philly Gay News). I had met this chickadee over in Cleveland that I was writing to.

The following Tuesday we met in NJ at Gatsby’s, a gay bar that is no longer around. I got there first and waited in my car. When she arrived and got out of her car, I was floored. Gone was the dark shirt that made her skin so pale. Gone was the crisp slacks. Instead, she wore jeans and a white polo shirt. She was perky and happy and I was perky and happy. I took her into the bar to meet my bar-buds, an eclectic group of humans including the bartender that wore flavored lipstick and let us all try to guess the flavor. And the poster of Joan Jett in a white leather jacket and no shirt.

Where was I? Yes, we had another fun night, my friends said she was nice, she thought my friends were weird but they all liked me so it was alright. We met a couple of more times, sometimes over in PA, mostly in NJ though. At one point I drove across PA to visit that chickadee in Cleveland. I’d been having trouble with a broken brake line and I actually carried several spare lines in the trunk. Which was good since it broke again on the way there and again by the time I got there. I changed the line while at a rest stop off the PA Turnpike. I knew my way around cars, was good at it, and liked it.

I get to Cleveland and mention that my brake line might be broken yet again. Well, talk about role playing! I was basically told to stay in the house while she and another went to fix it for me. I told them I didn’t need them to, that I would do it myself later. No, no, femmes like me need to keep my hands clean. Needless to say, the rest of the visit was miserable. No one badmouths my tools and gets away with it.

When I got back, Lorna and I decided we’d had enough of this ‘playing the field’ bit and wanted to get serious with each other. So we did. By December I was moved into her apartment in Norristown.

It has been fifteen years since that day. Fifteen years of hardship, bankruptcy, illness, disability, and overall life-suckness. Yet our relationship, our love for each other never wavered. Sure, it wobbled once or twice (okay 3 times maybe), every relationship does and should. Fifteen years of struggling with family, with jobs, with alleged friends. Thirteen of those years have been right here, in this house.

We have both changed over the years, but we are still madly in love. We hate to be in seperate rooms. We work well together on various projects, rarely fighting. Even if it is to run into town for milk, we usually go together.

Five years ago we decided to ‘get married’ in our church. We invited all our family, but only my mom and stepdad came down. It was a funny service, although it was supposed to be the second most serious time of our lives so far.

It has been fifteen years, and I still love that woman, more than I can ever say, more than I can ever show. My hope for you, dear invisible readers, is that you find your soulmate as well.