Tuesday, April 6, 2021

Suzanne takes you down...

I was perfect for her because I was too shy to bring up sex until I did of course in the course of nature taking its course.

apologies to tono stano

So Suzanne Gibson died in 2018, I was just months into intense stroke/life recovery and didn’t hear about it as we had long past devolved to acquaintance status some 30 years ago. But it bummed me out when I heard last week because I am a human with empathy who still loves every person I have ever loved.

I don’t know what her thing was, a surgeon father abandoned her and worse, she controlled relationships with men by withholding sex until she ballooned to a 300 lb smoker and controlled her ex-husband by a rigorous academic Ph.D. regime abandonment so ya, probably. Never heard mention of Mom, I think she left the bastard and Sue took over the wifely duties. Nothing new under that sun.

I met and fell in love with her at the rich kid’s school the welfare sent me to. She taught me some guitar riffs in a tree called Arther in lower Mount Royal in Calgary. She met my Mom, a horrible person and recluse, and she always asked after her. She learned to put a good face on everything at summer acting schools. I was perfect for her because I was too shy to bring up sex until I did of course in the course of nature taking its course. With the burden of probably having a kid fucker for a father, sex was off the table, and she summarily downgraded me to acquaintance status.

Already suffering from painful low self-esteem I was convinced it was all my fault, for being poor, several conservative Calgary fathers had previously forbidden connection with their daughters due to my ‘poor prospects’ during rich kids high school. I split, my crazy non-mother, my crazy non-girlfriend and went and hung out with the hippies, I lived on welfare at a no meals on Sunday religious military loving room and board, I was 14 years old, stayed in the conservative to the point of fascist Calgary public school until I could get a student loan and finished at a liberal community college where later in life I would teach art and they would get me an adult education qualification.

Calgary is a small town and when my wife’s brain disease killed our relationship I ran into Suzanne who turned me on to a community of musicians who got together and jammed. I took my guitar and Dobro Bob, a buddy from the bluegrass crowd and politely attended. Bob went on to marry a member, manipulated and entrapped by fear obligation and guilt, dumping me when I pointed this out, that she was a narcissist.

Suzanne kept eating and smoking and drinking until after 5 years of the inevitable cancers she died at age 65. The only thing she said about her teaching career in Korea was that the supervisor men were emotionally and sexually abusive.

She must have felt right at home, self-medicating as an alternative to psychotherapy and recreating her family of origin, dumping those that wanted frank conversation and willingness to compromise.

She committed relationship with herself suicide with her fork.

 

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