If you’re looking for motorcycle related content, check out the latest motorcycle news on our home page.
The talents of women are infinite. They go well beyond what I learned in my early twenties. Unfortunately, at that time I learned that women possessed talents that allowed them to make me feel better, to take away my pains, to ease my mind.
My father was dying of brain cancer. Type 4 glioblastoma multiforme. A tumor too large and too far deep within his brain to be operable. I was a university student. A punk. Nothing special. My girlfriend stood by me. She was my rock. We couldn’t cure my dad, but she could help relieve the symptoms of his illness that I experienced. If only for one night at a time. She had those talents.
Some talents are better left undiscovered. I became dependent. Her daily visits were more than I could ever ask of her, but I needed more. And then I needed a little more. My father passed away. I needed a little more. She said she had no more to give. We broke up.
The girl was gone. The dependency was still there. What happened next could be compared to the feeling of standing in front of the revolving door of a busy office building at 8:50 AM. Bodies coming and going. Human bandages offering each other a little bit of peace. If only for a night.
The same faces might return three or four times, only to never be seen again. Billy Joel’s piano man in the background. “They’re sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it’s better than drinking alone.” The music would stop for a moment. A smile. Warm words. A kiss good bye. Then the carousel would continue and the stallion would spin round and round.
One visitor broke the mold. The music stopped. She never left. I kicked her out. She came back. I took her in. She stayed. I was working in the motorcycle biz. A biker. Nothing special. This new girl, she stood by me. She was my rock. She couldn’t bring back my father, but she could help relieve the symptoms of his passing. If only for one night at a time. She had those talents.
Some talents are better left undiscovered. I became dependent once again. Her daily visits were more than I could ever ask of her, but I needed more. And then I needed a little more. I bought a house that I wanted us to live in together. She wasn’t interested. We broke up.
Now I reflect on my life and see a pattern. I see where I went wrong. I know the talents of women are infinite. They expand far beyond being able to make a miserable bastard like me feel better. But those simpler talents – affection, passion, and caring – once discovered, had me hooked. They subdued my pain better than pills or alcohol. More than that they brought out the best in me.
Now I’m clueless where to go. Do I stay alone? Do I look for one who will forgive my demanding nature? Do I look for one who will never leave me wanting and can shake me out of this funk? These days motorcycles and fits of Eeyore seem to be the only things I can commit myself to.
Looking back on everything that’s happened and the consequences of my actions makes me feel disgusted. And disgusting. I avoid situations and places. I don’t want to go back to familiar habits, familiar faces, and familiar bodies. Instead I long for something that I don’t think I’m ready for. Someone ready and able to stop the merry-go-round, before inertia begins to win.