The Tides

Waves of emotion have been leaving my shore for years.
I’m just sitting here,
Waiting for the tide to come in.
Lost in a void.
As my love was dissipated in your emptiness,
I waited for the warmth that I needed.
Now that I’ve said good-bye,
And I prepare to take my leave,
You seem surprised.
I was to last forever, never to run dry.
There for you to draw on,
Whenever you saw fit.
But the last unanswered wave has left my shore,
And I have nothing left to give
At last, nothing left to give,
To you.
David L. Cunix 1984

Seven years have passed since I wrote those words, and yet I could have written them tonight. It’s been a long day.

If you are a regular reader of this column, you know that I have two wonderful redheaded children (Phil-13 and Jen-10), that I own an insurance agency, and that I love to cook. You may not have known that I was married. Actually, oft married is probably more accurate. An eternal optimist, an incurable romantic, I have been married three times. Four hours ago, I, to borrow a baseball phase, issued irrevocable waivers on #3. I helped her pack, split up the stuff, and felt the weight leave my shoulders when she and the two stepdaughters rounded the corner for good.

Friends wonder what took so long. I’m a task oriented individual. I wanted to marry this woman for a long time. I achieved that. That job is done. Unfortunately, I wanted to be rid of her for and even longer time. No, really. Bill, the attorney I share the office with, and our secretary, Mary Ellen, never thought this marriage would survive 1990 much less make it the five years that it did. Five years this time. Two years the first time. My second marriage lasted eight and a half years! For me a marathon. A long, long, hellish marathon.

Marriage is a wonderful institution. Everyone should experience it at least once. But I’ve had enough. My lawyer Jack (who should be giving me a quantity discount), my friend David and Phillip have all been advised to shoot me if I ever say that I’m engaged again. Don’t give me a chance to reconsider. Just shoot me and get it over with.

It’s not that I don’t like women. I have none of the Sam Kenison bitterness my friend Gary has. No, I love women. I love them so much that all I see when I meet them is their good. Hell, I could talk myself into a relationship with Lizzie Bordon. “Nice backswing, girl. I wish I could wake up each day to the sun shining on that little axe!”

As I enter singledom again, I do so with knowledge that I have the support and best wishes of my friends, my clients and my readers. That’s nice. And, I get to run all the free ads I want to in Ohio’s Finest Singles.