Kim Boston is one of the few people that I have interviewed that looked better in person than in pictures. If memory served she was about ten years older than me but if I hadn’t read her biography I might have guessed that she was younger.
Genetics had been good to her. You wouldn’t have known that she had given birth to four children. It probably didn’t hurt that she was 5’10 in heels and had some of the longest legs I have ever seen.
I should probably mention that checking out the woman you are supposed to interview is generally frowned upon but this time it was hard to avoid. Not because I don’t follow the rules but because she had to walk across the lobby so I had ample time watch her walk towards me.
“Hello Ms. Boston, I am Jack.”
“Hi Jack, call me Kim. It is very nice to meet you. Give me a firm grip, I won’t break”
Genetics may have been good to her but her handshake made it clear that she had spent plenty of time in the gym. It wouldn’t do to be the fat therapist on television. The sarcasm is probably uncalled for but I am a little out of sorts.”
“Tell me about your story and what you need from me.”
It took great effort not to tell her the story that kept replaying in my mind. “Well Kim, I am so glad that you asked. Some years ago my old lover and I tried to figure out if there was an earthquake or if we were really that good together. Fact is that I asked her that very question and she had trouble answering because her mouth was full.”
The next time someone tells me to grow up I want to point out that I didn’t actually say any of those last couple of sentences out loud. A court of law might not accept that as proof of maturity but it works for me.
“I am working on a series of articles that are talking about love and relationships. There is a focus here on love in general but we want to address lost love. Some people marry the person they consider to be the great love of their lives and others don’t. In the age of the Internet it has become much easier to track down and reconnect with those of our past. We want to help our readers understand whether that boy or girl might still carry a torch for them or not.
That is sort of the general overview. We’ll get into more specifics as we go. Does that make sense to you?”
She nodded her head and started reciting statistics about relationships. I must have done winked, snickered or snorted because right afte she hit the part about 50 percent of marriages ending in divorce she looked at me and said, “how long?’
“Excuse me? How long for what?”
“It doesn’t matter whether it was amicable or adversarial divorce is always hard. I am sorry for your loss. Not every marriage is meant to last and not every relationship is forever.”
“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion –
I have shudder’d at it.
I shudder no more.
I could be martyr’d for my religion
Love is my religion
And I could die for that.
I could die for you.”
Ann looked up at me and smiled. “Jackie, you are the love of my life. I have never loved a man the way I love you.” I brushed the hair from her cheek and kissed her.
“Honey, I am serious. I can’t imagine growing old with anyone but you.”
“My dearest Ann, do you remember that John Keats quote I gave you. I meant it. I would die for you. That isn’t me being melodramatic, it is honest. But don’t worry, I don’t have any intention of dying any time soon. My love for you just is and I can’t imagine a time when I won’t love you. Sometimes I love you so much it hurts.”
Looking backwards in time I can’t decide whether to smile at the memory or gag on the syrupy sweetness. I hadn’t earned all of the scars I carry now so I suppose that it is only fair to view it as having been something sweet and meaningful.
I remember another conversation when things had slipped a little bit between us. “Ann, I need you to promise something. If something happens to us and we stop speaking I want you to promise you will kiss me again.”
“That is ridiculous. Why not ask me to promise to sleep with you again.”
“Because if you kiss me you will sleep with me again, but that is not the point. I am serious. Promise me that if for some stupid reason we stop talking you will kiss me again.”
“If we stop talking it won’t be for a stupid reason. When I am done, I am done.”
“I don’t beg or grovel. You know that I don’t, but this is important. Will you promise me?”
“Probably, I guess I will.”
I rolled onto my back, she lay her head on my chest and I listened to her breathe. For the moment pure bliss had again descended upon us. I was just about to fall asleep when I felt her slide down my body and then I forgot whatever it was I had been thinking about.
“Lost love in the Internet age is an interesting topic. We don’t yet have a lot of hard numbers to work with. Part of that is because in spite of what our children think social media has not been around forever. But most of it is because people don’t volunteer having contacted ex boyfriends or ex girlfriends.”
“Is that because they are doing so while still married or because no one is asking the question?”
Kim laughed. “Believe me, the question is being asked all the time. Most of the television and talk radio shows ask that question or something very similar on a regular basis. The thing is that I don’t trust the data. The few studies I have seen show responses that suggest that it rarely happens but I don’t believe it.
Just look at the divorce rates and you know that we have a lot of unhappy marriages. With all those unhappy marriages I find it hard to believe that people aren’t reaching out more frequently.”