FUCKING GOLDSTEIN

Fuck.

I reached out to Goldstein.

Fucking Goldstein!!

This man tortured me in high school. I hated his guts. And for the life of me, I can not remember why. I only know that I found him arrogant and full of himself. He ran with my older brother’s crowd, which means he did a lot of drugs and listened to jazz.

I saw him on the quad at UCLA my first day. I forgot he went there. But there he was, my nemesis, with his wild Jewish fro and big brown eyes twinkling with mischief. He screamed my name. I cringed but went regardless. In a sea of strangers, I will admit, it felt good to know someone. Even if that someone made me slightly nauseous.

It wasn’t long before we were shooting up heroine and fucking like crazy. He invited me to run away with him to South America. I didn’t go. I have often wondered what my life would have been like if I did.

I don’t wonder anymore though. Not since my daughter. She is perfection, and I wouldn’t change a thing about how I meandered my way to her; sometimes bushwacking through hell.

Goldstein. The sex was wild, rough, and tough.  He bit my nipple once so hard I screamed, and he laughed. I have never forgotten that.

He had a girlfriend at the time. They had an open-ish sort of relationship. I always had the feeling I was like a toy to him, a plaything, not serious. He said they would talk about him fucking me while they fucked, laughing together. She was like a goddess to me; older and otherworldly. I knew I could never measure up. We eventually drifted apart after he graduated from UCLA.

Highland Park has been talking dirty about threesomes, most excitedly, about a threesome with me and two men. I have never admitted out loud that this idea turns me on. Mainly because I have never seen it depicted in any way that matches my fantasy. All the porn looks degrading and sad. It is not the loving, sensual, masculine overload I imagine it could be. But Highland Park gets it and has sparked some real interest.

I approached The Ninja about it. He is so open about sex, and since we have a history, I thought he would be perfect for this sensual experiment. I invited him over to my house one night. I knew the second he walked in the door that he was not the one. He is small and wiry. I don’t like feeling bigger than the man I am with. And he is so immersed in this personal therapy group thing called Masters of Transformational Technology, that it is difficult to communicate with him; every other word out of his mouth is “sourced.” Even though I felt no chemistry, I still put out feelers. He said he has been in many threesomes of all sorts, but that he much prefers two women and one guy (him) because it is so “yin.” The other, two men, and one woman is too “yang” for his taste. He doesn’t think I would like it. He doesn’t think I should do it. I eventually gently guided him out the door.

Scratch Ninja off the list.

That is when I thought of Goldstein. I remembered his raw predatory sexuality, and I felt compelled to seek him out. He seemed up for anything then, maybe he still was.

The Ninja and he are still good friends, so I asked the Ninja for Goldstein’s number. He reluctantly gave it to me, with the caveat that Goldstein’s long time girlfriend, the one I knew in High School and college, had recently killed herself; with a gun to her head. And that Goldstein has never fully recovered.

I thanked him, and I never heard from The Ninja again.

But I did reach out to Goldstein; from a place of compassion, and not just lust. I knew first hand how he felt about her. I could not imagine the devastation.

She was his other half. Without a doubt.

I had to hear his voice.

Fucking Goldstein!

I texted him.

He texted right back.

Super smart

Really crazy

Same, but different

Affected

Deeply

By her death

We bantered before he face timed me late last night

It was lovely to see his face, same big beautiful brown eyes, wild smile, but no hair. Shaved off like a monk. Apparently he lived like one for a time after her death. His repentance.

He kept moving around. He couldn’t keep still. I had a hard time following his train of thought. He speaks and thinks fast. Lightening fast. Zig-zagging through everything. I let him bring her up. She is with him all over him you can see hear feel it

He speaks in we, meaning him and her.

He was getting ready to fly to New York to visit his family’s blueberry farm. Blueberries.

He said I was the one love that got away. The only girl he never captured.

His girlfriend was engaged to someone else when she killed herself. She left a note for him, but I didn’t ask what it said, and he didn’t offer.

He did tell me that they (his girlfriend and him) used to have sex while watching my television show.

I told him that sounded hot and weird at the same time.

He said it was.

We left a mark on each other. And not just on our skin.

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