Innermost Thought

One of my favorite "old loves" is a guy named Yiorgos. I met him through an even older love who was a much better pal than he could ever be a boyfriend. I met Yiorgos in Cyprus when I went to see the other guy...I'll call Andy.

Andy and I dated for awhile while he was studying to be a pilot in Ft Worth. He was gorgeous and exotic (Cypriot) and taller than I was (which is a big, but rare plus.) I met him on a night when I expected not to have any fun at all. I had fun that night. In the brief time we dated, I slowly realized that he is a bit of a misogynist. It wasn't personal; culturally, he was brought up to believe that he can have anything he wants and not be beholden to anyone because he is man. He had a practical, salt of the earth way of looking at the world that I found inherently fascinating. He was who he was and when he moved back to Cyprus we were able to maintain a friendship as penpals. Like many boyfriends before and after Andy, I got the impression that he didn't quite know what to do with me. What you see, is not what you get. Sometimes even tempestuous waters run deep.

After about a year or two of correspondence, Andy invited me to stay in Cyprus with him for awhile and, not one to miss an adventure, I jumped at the chance. Truthfully, I also wondered if there might be any spark between us that lingered from our brief relationship while he was in the states. It didn't take long before I realized there was not. We managed to hang out and have a good time anyway. He was a great host to me who shared his house, his family, and his friends despite having social engagements, family obligations and a new job which occupied much of his time. One night he introduced me to his friend who lived in Nicosia...Yiorgos.

Yiorgos and I had a brief but torrid affair in the remaining weeks that I was in Cyprus. He was handsome, not quite as tall but that was hardly an issue, and everything that Andros was not. Yiorgos was beautiful in a calmly unobtrusive way. A still water no less deep than that which my tempestuous facade so effectively covers. For the first time in my life, I had a real life vision of the type of guy to which I could see myself well and truly bound.

I wonder what sort of machinations happened behind the scenes that orchestrated our initial meeting. Greek, of course, is the language of choice in Cyprus and I spoke a total of 25-50 words only some of which I could splice together to make rudimentary sentences. I fancy that perhaps Andy was calling on a friend to keep his guest occupied as he went about his obligations. Spending time with Yiorgos was one of the highlights of an amazing trip. It's his perspective of the Green Line border between Greek Cyprus and Turkish Occupied Cyprus that I took home with me. I think that Yiorgos was as grateful at the time to have met me.

Yiorgos and I kept in touch for awhile after I got back to the states. About 4 or 5 years later, he got married and within a few years I was getting adorable pictures of a little man that looked strikingly like the man who showed me Cyprus' capital city and who sweated out my driving on the left side of the road for the first time in a huge white van.

Tonight I listen to the song that haunted me my entire trip in Cyprus. I can't tell you the name of the song or the artists. It's all Greek to me. I think it's called Hellas 2000 or some such, about the hopeful future of the Greeks for the 21st century.

Yiorgos and I have lost touch for about 5 years now. I imagine Yiorgos is living that hopeful future, a lovely life on The Med, with a beautiful, loving wife and 2 or 3 more children to watch them grow fat and happy. He deserves no less.

Happy Birthday Yiorgos!