It can be a game of wit, the game of life; a game of scrabble; but the luckiest game I ever played was fourteen years ago on line…. backgammon. I was tired of sick relationships, I had spent my last four years being the only one that was doing the work to make a relationship healthy, and I had come to the end of my rope…. In the six months prior, I thought I had arrived realizing that my life was going to be flown solo, and I had embraced it. I was playful again, I had found my inner rock, and I was ready to move freely “freelyabout the cabin”.
Flash back fifteen Augusts ago: It was a very warm evening and I had taken my laptop out to the deck and I could feel the breeze off the Puget Sound soothe me. I adored backgammon and was feeling my old playful-competitive self….when I sat down at a table in a chat room and asked the question: “Who out there has the nerve to try and kick my butt?” Immediately Furry Blue Panda sat down at my table. He was persnickety, playful, and possessed a wit which charmed the playful dickens out of me. We played three games in a row…. I kicked his bottom-end in all three of them, and had the audacity to gloat about it. I was feeling my oats that night. He marveled at my unabashed glee over the kill, and if the truth be known, so did I. I remember lying in bed that evening and thinking who is this man, that brought my spirit out, who challenged me at ever corner in dialogue and had the gall to question my every choice on every move of the game; who couldn’t take losing, but saw the extreme humor in the instance of me winning. We agreed to play again the next night.
Giving him thought the next day; I found the joy of the evening before, still present. BUT I KNEW that he wouldn’t show. I had experienced a string of dates, where men would say they would call, but never heard from them again….. I was resolved and disappointed before the darkness came at the end of my day. I sat down at my computer and brought up the backgammon site. I typed, Furry Blue Panda and there he was, playing someone else. It was perfect, I thought to myself, I can observe his game and conversation…… but I found it to be flat: disengaging. My heart fell, I thought to myself, ahhhhh, but a moment in time, and it had passed. I shot him a note and told him, I would be at table 101… come and visit when you are done, and watch me clean your clock once again. I no more hit the table that he was there. Day two: more fun, more humor, more poetry at the table. With this game, came real conversation about ourselves: Though flirtatious, real. We discovered we both had spent a lot of years in show business. We discovered we knew some of the same people. We discovered we had been at the same party at the same time; one hot and star-lit night in Hollywood. We discovered, we were of “like” family traditions and observed “like” parenting in our families. We discovered we liked each other. And we discovered we liked our sense of family.
I went to bed that night KNOWING that something about him was different, but fearful to say the words out loud. I sent him an email, a love note I suppose, likening us to two birds sitting on a wire in a storm. He responded and asked for my phone number. On night three, we were talking on the phone. We talked for 6-9 hours a day, seven days a week. No phone sex, nothing like that indeed, but pure conversations about family, experiences, dreams: the essentials of life. By week three I had fallen in love. I remember telling my Father, I am going to spend the rest of my life with this man. I remember telling my friends, we are meant to be together, and we will be together forever. Everyone worried…. Mom called him Jack the Ripper, and on week 7 we sent one picture of our self to each other. To my picture, I added his favorite coffee beans, because where he was working on location, he could not get them. I added one of the prisms hanging in my bedroom window that I would mention to him throughout our conversations, so he could share in the rainbows, which fell upon me, while dreaming in the morning light. I added a golden clipping of my hair; a valentine post card with a splotch of my nail polish on it and a kiss of my lipstick on the back with a simple, love Robin. Three days later, I had a box waiting for me at the post. In it was a photo shot of him: he looked nothing like I expected. And in his box, I found a small flopsy-eared-stuffed toy, which he had ingeniously named (?) Puppy: (I hate stuffed toys, BTW), as well as postcards from his location.
Now, if Gary and I had met in a nightclub, yes, we would have had a fun-filled evening–and parted and wished each other well. We were not the cookie cutters we would normally be attracted too. But, magically, I suddenly loved Puppy. I saw the sweetness of his grin, which demonstrated the proof of the story he had told me earlier as to the “why” it was his Mother’s favorite feature on him. I saw a picture of a man chocked full of dearness and authenticity. I was in love. As I was walking back from the post, I heard my phone ringing. Answering, I heard a man in tears; a man that had never received such a beautiful gift in his post box (now let’s keep in mind I sent him some dead hair and a nail polish swatch; coffee, a photo booth pic of my big head and a crystal—hardly a Rolex, dontcha know). A man, so sincere, I was swept away. I told him I was in love with him and then I heard the music stop. A silence that went on for a lifetime….. my immediate thought was “well, it was fun while it lasted.” Then a little voice started to speak, like small bird in a nest without protection. And that little voice said, “I’m in love with you too and haven’t been able to figure out a way to tell you without feeling 15 and foolish.” Weeping, we started laughing; we didn’t speak any language in word form for minutes…. everything was finally on the outside of our old buzzard hearts for the world and each other to hear.
We hatched a safe plan. We felt, since we were both lovers of games, it would be a good place to fly and meet in Vegas. Where was the harm in that??? We knew we would have fun with each other, and at the very least, leave each other knowing we had a good pal in our court. So we bought our tickets and knew in 7 weeks, we would be together. Many, many things happened over those seven weeks. My company almost crashed, my Father-my hero, died….. my friends and family lovingly shared their skepticism and did their loving best to dissuade the meeting. I had to move, to get rid of a roommate that just wouldn’t move out. But, I KNEW, he was the only light for me at the end of the tunnel.
I remember the night before I was to fly out, I heard him speak words I had never heard before: “Honey! I’ll see you tomorrow!” My mind LITERALLY raced like a Nascar driver…. OMG, what am I thinking. What am I doing? After calming, and landing back on the planet of Robin, I found my way to the airport the next day. Smooth flight, the poor woman next to me heard everything… but in “true fashion” every girl loves a good romance, so she asked all the questions that would make us titter.
I remember checking into the Venetian. And asking, has Mr. Stone checked in???? I heard a long hollowed-halled answer that sounded like “Yes, Ma’am, about two hours ago”. I walked down the hall, I could have been walking to an electric chair…. the hall was never ending, and my brain was spinning, my heart was thumping, and I heard a prehistoric sound in the distance. As I got to the door, I chortled out loud, it was me breathing.
I opened the door. He wasn’t there. But a note left on our suite’s desk was. The message simple: I’m downstairs playing. Catch your breath, fix your lips and page me when you are ready. I love you and can’t wait to hold you. The phone rang; it was him, checking to see if I was in. He told me he would be right up. My body did that thing that bodies do before you go on stage in front of thousands…. everything started working and none of it in concert with each other; I was terrified. I kept hearing my Mother say, ROBIN! HE COULD BE JACK THE RIPPER!! I stumbled about wondering why on earth I didn’t get my own room. I felt like a mail-order bride. And quite honestly, in many ways, I was.
The door opened. We looked at each other and the ship of crazy-nervousness righted itself, I could feel the snap of its sail catch the wind. I was where I was meant to be, with my first mate. We had a cocktail, we went to The Palm and dined like a King and Queen, he sang to me, we danced; we played the tables until 5AM.
Gary and I have been together every day since then; it took literally a zepto-second to see what we expected all along, was there: true-love. We packed up a car and went to Santa Barbara and stayed on the shore while having the most glorious honeymoon…. We spent a week driving up Hwy 1 on the Pacific coast… in the awe of love and inspiration of hope, everything was beautiful. It still is.
Thank you Gary. You filled up my heart and turned it from red to gold. You played your King of Hearts with a wink and a smile that changed my life when I was not looking for change. Ups; Downs; Ins; Outs: You are still my favorite love story. And I still love kicking your ass in backgammon.