WHERE FOR ART THOU, CATALINA?

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Well here we are, another Tuesday, another missing newsletter. I really am not good at formulaic writing. I don’t know if I am using the right word in “formulaic,” but I cannot put together a format where I stick to it every Tuesday. I am working on it, but so far no success.

Today, instead. I will write about my favorite ex-girlfriend. I will, of course, change her name, and some details, but the whole of the write-up will be intact.

And this is for Egg—chill out, super market slut!!

My favorite ex-girlfriend hails from a small village in a European country. I met her while she was in the USAA as an au pair. For those of you who do not know, an au pair is someone, often a younger person from another country lives with a host family, and in exchange for room, board, and weekly pay, will take care of the host families kids.

Au pairs are usually on the younger side of the spectrum, starting around the age of eighteen. all the way up to twenty six, au pairs are able to soak up the culture of the country they are in, while, at the same time, giving back by explaining parts of their culture. Symbiosis at its best.

Au pairs take care of the host fam’s kids and such, working around 40-45 hours a week. The coolio thing this that au pairs are treated like family, so there is no weird shit. They eat meals with the family, they go on vacations with the family.

I should back up here and get the word au pair out, its origins and such. So, as you might have guessed the term au pair is French, and means “on par” or “equal” which is perfect considering the relationship au pairs have with their host families. Au pairs can stay in the USA for, at the most, can stay for twenty-four months max. I am not sure if that is the case now with the craziness the USA is experiencing. I cannot imagine an au pair wanting to come here ugh.

Back to the beginning of this story. My favorite ex girlfriend. She is from Europe, and had that particular sensibility of one whose mind is open to new experiences, new cultures, new foods—just everything and anything. That is not to say she was a wild child, I mean, she was, but that is beside the point. When I say she was wild, it is that she wanted to experience all that the USA had to offer. Back then, times were a little more chill. This was before 9/11 and we felt like we were untouchable, and acted as such.

I met Catalina through a friend who spoke the same language as her. He had an interest in the history of her country, and we were good friends. There was another au pair he knew that was from the same country as Catalina. We were all introduced, and it was clear from the very first moment that Catalina and I were going to hit it off. We laughed so much that first day and night as we share Camel cigs (yuck blerch) and Budweiser for her, Amstel for me. She wanted the true experience of the everyday American, and one of those images was of drinking Budweiser and Bud Light

I introduced her to my favorite poetry, poet, and soe of my own stuff (which is not something I do often. I am trying to put myself out there more.) She introduced me to Milan Kundera and Rilke. We went to museums, libraries, Waffle House, and The Fabulous Fox Theatre for some shows. We spent hours in the pool and hot tub of her host families house (they were very cool) smoking weed and waxing philosophical about anything and everything under the stars (metaphorically and literally.) We went hiking, we walked, we talked about world football. We had rival teams.

She had brown hair, which had blondish highlights. Around the same height as me, we fit together. Now, this was her first interracial relationship, and she was from a small village where 95% of the population would frown heavily on us. We got looks in the USA too. We didn’t care. We were locked in on each other. She had a husky laugh which made her accent even more sexy sounding when she would whisper and laugh quietly in my ear. I can even feel the hair stand up on my arms now.

My parents, especially my mother, had a great relationship with Catalina. My mother had her own nickname for her, and to awesomeness, she accepted and loved it when mother would call her the nickname. We would go out to dinner, my parent’s treat. My father yes, but even moreso, my mother loved Catalina to death. She treated her as if we were married. Who knows—if she were able to stay in the USA, or if I could have found a cheap way to move and live somewhere with her—we just may have.

Catalina was a wonderfully literate, considerate, compassionate, and beautiful woman. I am happy and honored that I had the opportunity to take up space in her orbit for a bit. And her memory will live me forever

One of the things that Catalina explained to me about Rainer Maria Rilke was that Rilke approached the philosophy of love as being approached with serious, inner work becomes the deepest and most meaningful of paths. Love is not a replacement for life, but it is the very way live can be lived with integrity. With depth

Egg may get a little saltiness in her eyes, but I think of both of them (Egg and Catalina), when I here the below song.

I will drop some of the lyrics of the above song

"Is she all that you want?

Is she all that you need?

I’d be there in a hurry

Baby, come back to me

I could build us a house

Down across the se

I’d be there in a hurry

Baby, come back to me

Baby, come back to me”

I always thought in like five years, if I was walking down the street and bumped into Catalina, it would rocket me back to that deep attachment and love we shared. She would probably see my transness, and turn the other way, and that thought makes me sad.