Scrolling through my photos on my phone I came across this little gem: a pic of the ticket that represents one of the most tumultuous years of my life. Van Halen at the Rosemont Horizon, in 1984, for $13.50. It barely seems possible. Then again, most of my life that year was off the charts.
I was 17, and I was obsessed with drawing my favorite rock musicians. I’d done drawings of Steve Perry and Neal Schon and was allowed to stand in the front row of the Journey concert and put them onstage. (It was the Escape tour and OMG yes it was every bit as amazing as you’d hope.) I’d also drawn the members of Van Halen - so when they were coming to Chicago, I was determined to go. Trouble was, I was pregnant with a child I was being forced to carry and relinquish - and my due date was sometime that same week.
I was undeterred. The show date arrived, the baby hadn’t, so I rolled up my drawings, got a ride with some boys I didn’t know, and haunted the backstage area until I was introduced to one of the managers. I ended up being brought back before the show: my artwork was my backstage pass. I met Eddie Van Halen, who was an absolute darling (as you would expect). He wanted to keep a couple of the drawings and I of course said yes. He autographed the one he didn’t want to keep, we chatted for a bit, and he gave me a kiss on the cheek. Like Marcia Brady after she meets Davy Jones, I left the area stunned, with my hand on my face, saying “I’ll never wash this cheek again…”
So, that happened.
I was also bummed that I didn’t get to meet David Lee Roth.
Okay, okay. I had a weird teenage obsession with him. Embarrassingly so. I honestly do not know what that was about. My apologies to the universe for my thinking he was attractive in any way, shape, or form. Then again, I spent a lot of my teens and 20s being attracted to bad boys, because I was the angel who would reform them with pure love.
Stop laughing.
Listen, my teenage self was not entirely stupid. She had questionable taste in men, definite self-esteem issues, and a lot to learn about love (and pretty much everything else), but she also somehow had a surprisingly accurate vision about what I would need and want out of a partnership someday when I grew up.
From a young age I knew how important my solitude and alone time was, but it was always in direct conflict with what I was told a 'marriage' should look like. My two most successful relationships - the ones that lasted longest - were ones in which my partner understood I needed that solitude. I need my space. As a teen I couldn’t imagine any other lifestyle/work that would meet my requirements, so I envisioned a future with a rock star. (Yes, I will admit, at times it was David Lee Roth. *Shudder*)
But seriously - teenage me had the right idea. I knew that it would be best for me to be with someone who is NOT around all the time. To be with someone who is literally physically away from me for good chunks of time - not necessarily out of the house, but not in the same room either. That way I wouldn't have to try to fit myself into the mold of traditional marriage - always sleeping in the same bed, eating together, all that. I knew that I can be intense, so it would probably be good for the other person, too. Give them a chance to miss me, I guess.
I did end up getting married for 22 years (not to a rock star), and it was wonderful, but not easy, especially when our kids were young. Thankfully my husband also required alone time, so if I was feeling restless I could just say “I’m antsy, I think I’m going to drive to the beach,” and he would say “Awesome. So am I feeding the kiddos then?” as a way to gauge how long I’d be gone. He encouraged me to take solo trips, and would happily take the kids on an outing to give me some space. We knew it was unconventional, but he was a big proponent of “do what works”. Which is why we lasted 22 years, I’m sure.
At any rate, I'm really beginning to understand that I wasn't meant for a 'normal' life. (Those who know me would undoubtedly say "Well, duh!"). So what does that mean for the rest of my unconventional days?
I actually think my current lifestyle would lend itself well to the kind of partnership I want. My tiny dwelling on wheels is only big enough for me, so a live-together situation is just not doable. Even my bed is not conducive: it’s a twin bed, great for me alone, but anyone who’s here for extra-curricular activity has to leave once playtime is over. Honestly, I’ve regretted letting people stay the night, but never in my life have I regretting sending someone home.
While I will admit that the way I’m living can be isolating and lonely, that doesn't mean I want to trade in my 17-foot house for a big ole motor home with a built-in spouse. Ideally an incoming partner would have his own 17-foot house (or larger, I mean, it's his house, it can be however big he wants). He has his own places he wants to go, and none of his plans are contingent on where I’m going. If we happen to be in the same place at the same time, awesome! We will reconnect, share stories of our individual lives, hang out together for however long, then go our separate ways for days, weeks, months. I don't even need to talk to him every day. Seriously. Shoot me a text every couple days, whatever.
I don’t intend to travel forever, though. I would love to have a home base - a place I come back to or even stay most of the time. I just don't want to live with anyone again unless they have their own space, and a lot of it. An outbuilding. A mancave. A trailer parked on my property. (My wasband and I used to joke about having a duplex or houses next door to each other). Separate living spaces means no compulsion to keep house a certain way, no expectations of meals or plans or mandatory closeness, no one else’s laundry but your own. I have my place, the new man has his. If he wants to come over for a hang and bang, that's fine, but I reserve the right to send him home when I'm done with him (and vice-versa, of course). We love each other, we are bonded and committed to one another, but we are two separate people, and we do not expect the other to take care of anyone but themselves. I no longer want friends with bennies or one night stands. I want a partner… just not one that lives with me.
Not long ago I asked a former fuckbuddy what he thought I wanted out of life and love. He assumed I wanted a traditional relationship, which gave me pause, and (in part) sparked this line of self-inquiry. I just don’t really want that anymore; I don’t think I ever did. Sigh. Sometimes I feel like such a freak, lol. But then again, millions of couples have a long-distance relationship and they make it work, so I guess it’s not that farfetched.
It’s been suggested to me that I get myself multiple lovers. Collect them as I criss-cross the country, like Pokémon. I know quite a few people who are in polyamorous relationships, but I don't think that's what I want. I don't know. Randy and I tried it when we had little kids, and that's a really tough thing to navigate: it did not work. As much as I liked being shared, I never really liked sharing. Maybe now that I'm a grown up and understand myself better; maybe now that my needs/wants in a relationship have changed, I could make that kind of a situation work - it would probably dovetail nicely with my nomadic life. It would be a challenge, but for the right person, I would be willing to try. It’s not off the table.
I know I may never find what I'm looking for. That's okay. I've already come to terms with being forever single, but maybe somewhere out there is another oddball singleton, a divine outdoorsman in his mid-to-late 40s who is just traveling around finding himself, who would like to connect and re-connect as the spirit moves us. Who sees me as the whole beautiful goddess that I am, and wants to be in love with me in the same way I want to be in love with him.
A girl can dream. May the odds be at least once in my favor, lol.
Meanwhile, I'll just be here. And then there. And then the next place. Catch me if you can, I guess.
Until next time,
Rhon
P.S. The ticket was for Aisle 3, seat 203, on 3/13. Makes me wonder exactly how long the number 3 was being sent to me…