I Said Georgia, Ooh, Georgia, No Peace I Find, Just An Old Sweet Song, Keeps Georgia On My Mind

--"Georgia On My Mind", Ray Charles

I was recently invited to go to Atlanta with my friend Jeff as a surprise to his wife. She’s flying there on business and he thought it would be romantic gesture to surprise her there. Knowing that I love to travel, he asked me if he did decide to do that if I’d like to go too. There are about five million reasons why I’d love to go. I love the food, the scenery, and, while it may be a mite cold these days, I’ve never had a problem with the weather down there. Plus, he knows I haven’t been to Georgia in about fifteen years. What he doesn’t know is the one reason I cannot go.

The accord.

The accord that states I’m not allowed in the Peach State and she’s not allowed here pretty much for the duration of the rest of our natural lives. The accord that places a premium on the ideology that it’s better not to place oneself in a position of temptation than to believe that self-control should be practiced at all times. The accord that has basically managed to keep us in decent shape for the last six years--the concept of “decent” being relative.

A lot of the time, I chafe at being reined in. It’s not like me to willingly accept any sort of restriction placed upon me. However, I’d have to say that the last couple of years (Chicago being the huge exception) has been spent in relative peace. I get what I want, that is to remain close to her, and she gets what she wants, that is to keep me and her husband not knocking heads. At times I’ve toyed with the idea of flying over there, but in the end that impulse has always been overruled by the urge to preserve the status quo. It’s just not worth it start a battle that would spark a huge war I’m not prepared to fight. That would be akin to gassing up a car for a trip I don’t really want to take. For the most part I believe in the agreements we made and in the promises we’ve managed to keep so far. For the most part I believe that this accord being instituted has been one of the main reasons we’ve come along this far. When it comes down to it, I don’t want to mess anything up that I don’t really have to.

The thing is this trip really wouldn’t be violating the accord. Not really. This would be one of those rare instances where the letter of the law would be infringed upon while the spirit of the law would not. The whole purpose of the accord was made so that I wouldn’t get the impulse to come visit her, come try to win her back, or to more or less wreak havoc upon their domestic bliss. That’s all well and good, but this trip I really do believe I could resist the urge to swing by her place at all. No part of me--strike that--the majority of me has no interest in visiting her at all if I do go. If I never wrote this, if I never told her I would be visiting, then for all intents and purposes it would be like for her I was never in Georgia. If a man crosses a forest but leaves no footprints you can see, was he ever really there? That would be like my trip. I would get to visit one of top three favorite states in the country, hang out with my friend and his wife, and get to sightsee on my own whenever they wanted to be alone for any extended period of time. The whole purpose of the trip would negate any nefarious feelings of betrayal or subterfuge that any other excuse to fly there would entail. I could cast myself as blameless in the whole affair because I would be. It was not my idea, it would not be “my” trip, no one would have to get hurt. I could just Atlanta again and mark it as an opportunity to rekindle the joy I felt when I went originally.

It would be one thing if I myself believed I was generating this as an excuse to go see her. I’m more than capable of deluding myself into thinking that I’m being noble, that I’m doing something noble regardless of how the circumstances portray it. As aforementioned on this blog, I’m the king of internally having a reason for everything I do, but externally trying to cast a much different explanation or motivation for every one of my decisions. It wouldn’t have been out of the question a few years ago to say to her that I wanted to see the state when I really wanted to see her. That’s the kind of deviousness that was par for the course when I was truly missing her bad. I would have said anything to circumvent the rules. That’s probably how Chicago happened in the first place, because you give me a rule I don’t usually think how to follow it. I usually try to devise a way around it. If you asked me a few years ago, I would have railed against the restriction. But now, with the recent events of her going through counseling and my all but giving up hope that all this waiting will do, I kind of don’t see myself launching into endeavors that will cause either one of us any stress or heartache. I just want to go about my business, not bothering her in that respect, and just letting things go on as they’ve been developing these last few months, which is smoothly. I just want to be able to land up on her so-called territory without any hassle or complication, do my time, and leave without incident. That’s all I want to do.

What I’m afraid of is two-fold. First, I’m afraid of her reaction to my desire for this trip to be one of happy negligence. I’m afraid she’s going to be of the mindset that, since I seem to be willing to forego the old feelings, it’d be okay to finally sit and become friendly with Greg. That’s not what I want at all. To twist the line from the Geico commercial, “just because I’m willing to go to a man’s house and not throw stones doesn’t mean I’d want to go fishing with the guy.” There’s a long road from not hating someone to liking them outright. I’m nowhere near there yet. However, I just know this will be disappointing. To me, it’ll be like I’m taking this huge step to some kind of new, more conciliatory arrangement. To her, it’ll be like quitting a marathon ¾ of the way from the finish line. She’ll just wonder why if I can go that far why I can’t go all the way. I don’t know if it’s exactly a glass half-full, glass half-empty paradigm, but it’s close enough. I’ve never been able to measure up in her eyes in terms of committing myself fully to a plan I’m not entirely behind. I always thought that was the point behind not being fully invested a decision. When I’m hesitant about a subject, it’s usually for a good reason. When I’m more impulsive about a subject, it’s usually because any foreseeable consequence is overwhelmingly positive. Simply put, I don’t do anything reckless that at first glance might turn out badly for me. I don’t look long. I don’t look hard, but I do look. That’s what’s always differentiated me from her. We’re both stubborn. We both can be impulsive. But she’s more likely to be blindly impulsive and blindly stubborn than I ever could be.

Second, I’m worried that, even if she doesn’t want the three of us to meet-up, she’ll want to meet-up privately. As much as that would be great and all, private meet-ups have a history of turning out differently than we expected. Again, it’s a matter of turning off the heat rather than playing with fire. She’s strong. I’m not. I don’t how I’ll react once I see her if I see her. All the walls of sand I erected to defend myself against getting hurt again will come crumbling down around me. I need my walls.

That’s why I’m thinking going to Atlanta is a bad idea all around. I mean--the accord was put into place for a reason, because it automates the decision-making process into a simple yes-or-no question. There’s only two things I have to watch out for--I don’t call her at home and I don’t step foot in Georgia. If I start bending the rules, fudging them or whatever, then it’ll be like I no longer think it’s necessary. That will fly in the face of common sense, which dictates that I probably need them now more than ever. The time for rules and regulations isn’t when things are at their worst; that’s when the rules and regulations make the most sense. No, the time to hold back is when things are good. You need to hold back no matter what your heart or brain might be telling you since when things are good, things can only get worse. That’s when you need some sort of code to abide by. That’s the only way prosperity lasts, that’s the only way it works.


still in peaceful dreams I see
the road leads back to you

I want to go.

I don’t think it’ll harm anything if I do go.

She probably won’t mind.

But I probably won’t go because it would be opening Pandora’s box or, as she would say, it’d be like trying to just let one sheep out of the pen when the gate’s as wide as the sky. It’s just not possible to break the rules a little. You’re either breaking them or you’re not. I don’t have any qualms about breaking rules as long as you know what you’re getting into and as long as the result is something you want. In this situation, where everything is all murky, I don’t know exactly what I’d be getting into and the result is tenuous at best.

I’m not as blasé about breaking them up as much as I once was. For the first time in a long time, she and him seem to be getting along well. It’s not as easy to pretend my reasons are noble when everything and everyone are running smoothly. If I did it would seem like I was the one doing the damage instead of being the one fixing everything. It’s easy to fool myself into thinking I’m doing this for her benefit when she’s asking for my advice or help. When it’s me wishing to impose my will on the situation it’s just me being an asshole ex-boyfriend.

She’s a big girl now. She’s come a long way from subtly asking me to rescue her from a life she never wanted to commit to. She understands now life isn’t something that somebody asks you if you want. Your life is yours for better or for worse; there’s just no backing out of it. She’s settled down into the role of being responsible and staying in one place for once. She still knows how to run and why she would want to run, but she no longer has the desire to any more. She’s put herself in the position of seeing this endeavor through. For my part, I’m doing the best I can to encourage her. She’s always sought after something or someone that could make her happy. This life she’s crafted around her just may be her shot at it. I’m part of it, but I’m not the center of it like I once thought I wanted to be. I’m good with that, though. I’m good at being in the mix.

She doesn’t need me in her life as she once did and I’m trying my best not to want her in my life as much as I once did. That’s the best description I can give if you asked me where the two of us are at. She might employ a different description, but that’s how I feel. We’re both happy more than we were a year ago, but we’re also in much different orbits than we were back then. Where we end up is anyone’s guess.

All I know is I’m not big on making her unhappy. That has never wavered. That is what I’d be doing if I went, however it turns out.

I’m trying to pretend one trip won’t matter if I don’t see her, if I don’t let her known when, and if I don’t allow things to fall out of my control. But nothing is ever fully under my control. There are just too many ways to fuck this one up. The agreement has stood this long without being broken; it can stand a few more years in place until we’re both finally able to handle having such safeguards in place.

Besides, Georgia won’t be the same experience without her.

----

“I wouldn’t move.”

“Neither would I. There’s just too many good things I’d miss about L.A.”

“I know. Too much to leave behind, too much to replace about here.”

“You want to know the best thing about Macon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You. That’s the only reason I’d go there. Well, the only reason that counts.”

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers