More than a crush on Joanna Lumley 

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I once had a girlfriend who looked like Joanna Lumley. I mean, kind of, sort of vaguely. More like a 35-year-younger version of Joanna Lumley, with less makeup. Ok, maybe they don’t resemble each other all that much. Actually, not at all. In fact, it’s not exactly as if they were identical, but they both have a je ne sais quoi; they both displace the air with such swagger and confidence, their gait is a tad gracious and candid like a child, yet surrounded by an aura of unassuming elegance and mystery. They both transpire sensuality behind beautiful eyes that otherwise wouldn’t need as much makeup as they wear! Believe me, nothing screams “sexy” louder than a nerdy, witty, dorky woman like the one I once called my girl.  

If I close my eyes while listening to Joanna Lumley speak, I can almost hear my ex-girlfriend talking to me. Although they do not have the same accent, I am sure it has something to do with Joanna coming from southern England, and my ex-girlfriend from Canada’s last province to join the Confederation in as recently as 1949, which is also Canada’s closest point to the UK. Coincidence? I think not. I’ll have to go back to the history books though, and make sure that I’m not spreading misinformation here, but one thing is for sure, Joanna Lumley’s voice strokes those deep fibers in me, akin to the strings of a guitar. And let me tell you, I know one thing or two about guitars. 

Pathetic you’re thinking? Maybe I am, but I am in a happy place now, despite it all. Maybe even because of it all. The woman I’m talking about came into my life, and like the real force of nature that she is, made me realize both my biggest flaws, as well as my capacity for love, patience and change; unlike the million and a half-worth in self-help books I’ve read my entire lifetime. I’m sure it’s commonplace to know that we all look for connection, and that unfortunately not everybody finds it, love is as elusive as it is ephemeral, take Silvio Rodriguez’s Blue Unicorn, for example. As for me, I feel more than lucky to have found the love of my life. My muse. My gold nugget. She’s the one who fired up my soul and made me want to soar to heights previously unknown to me. We might be no longer together, but I am perfectly fine knowing that I loved and was loved, rather than searching endlessly for the Holy Grail or the Fountain of Youth for an eternity and never knowing the feeling. As such, she comes with me everywhere I go, as there’s a version of her that will forever populate my heart –excuse the tackiness.  

We don’t talk to each other, so we’re basically strangers holding each other’s secrets. Nonetheless, the imprint that she slapped solid on my mind, heart and soul is such that it inspires me to this day, and makes me want to do more/get more of the borrowed time I’m on. I even tried to take up BJJ at a nearby gym. I just couldn’t keep up with grappling with a stranger’s crotch on my face. I swear my love for southeastern Asian cuisine almost came crashing down after rolling on the mat, only to end up in some kind of lock with an armpit transpiring the curry of the day right on my nose!

In short, she is the woman that came to upset the proverbial anthill of my life, the one that murkied the waters of my otherwise ordinary existence in more ways than I thought were possible. The riptide of a post-pandemic love came undone, and it tore me to shreds –and her too – exposing my underbelly and forcing me to grow out of the limiting beliefs I had about myself. She is no angel, she’s not perfect, but she was real and authentic. She had the sincerity and the guts to confront me, and by just being herself, she managed to make implode my worldview and expand my opinions and perceptions about love, well-being, mental health, getting older and aging with dignity, cherishing life, being unapologetically yourself, and above all, curating a life of simplicity in a world where frivolity and triviality reign high. 

We had a ton of fun together. We used to make each other laugh a lot with no effort. It was just our natural disposition. Our baseline attitude towards our relationship could be described as goofy, dorky and laidback. One day we attended a ceremony of Kirtan chants, and we got out of that place bent double with laughter and concern after all the strange and whacky things we saw in just a couple of hours. I’m talking about people stripping their clothes out in the open for everyone to see, and witnessing a gang of idiots swimming across a river with strong current, also naked! And hours, literally hours of sitting cross-legged listening to chants in language we didn’t understand.

With natural assertiveness, she made me realize –the hard way- that everything around me is not about me, and that I would eventually need to take a deep dive into the waters of my negligence and self-indulgence if I wanted to stop being so self-centered. After one too-many-times of my making her cringe with my impatience and immaturity, she suggested it was time to break surface tension and face my own boo-boos, on my own; that’s when it was decided we needed to go our separate ways. My bubble burst. And that was mainly because I really believed in us. She felt like home to me. I wanted to live and learn together, laugh and cry, make memorable vignettes and carve a life full of great moments, go through thick and thin, grow old with her, have success and fail together, but ultimately, be present and have each other’s back, get up, pick up the pieces and try again, become old people, and do so in our own particular style. I guess we were not on the same page about some fundamentally important things, like these.

But life had a different script for us, and taking breakup and heartbreak hard on the nose was the proverbial whack on the back of my head that I needed to navigate complex emotions, grow up, and finally resolve arriving at a better place, as if after traversing a purgatory of pain and loss. The truth is, the juggernauts she was up against were easily as big, if not bigger than my recalcitrant emotional dysregulation, my anxious attachment and my need for validation. I had been poking her monsters with a stick all along, constantly pushing her away, a little bit at a time, until my girl went over the edge. 

Sometimes, there’s no other way than drinking all the bitter syrup, sitting in a dark place with yourself and going through the extreme discomfort of asking some important questions, and confronting your own avatar of BS and self-content, for the rotten skin of your own self-delusion to finally break open and shed. It came at a high price for me though, and as thankful as I am for her stepping into my frame, I find it a bit sad and ultimately hard to accept that in the end, she might have just been a lesson in my life. In truth, I miss her. I miss her dancing in the kitchen, talking to her cat, pinning me down in a Jiu-jitsu armlock, calling me Mr. Chalo, holding hands walking by the river, cooking together on a Saturday evening, and seeing her shiny laminated face after a session of deep facial cleansing before going to bed.  

Moving on and being capable of celebrating your failures and victories alike, as well as recognizing your errors as opportunities for learning and growing, can be regarded as a sign of good overall emotional health and maturity, as well as a healthy source of incredible liberation. After all, we only have this one shot, and who knows what happens after we’re gone, so may as well take one day at a time and live wholesomely and with full consciousness and intention. Most important of all, be kind and patient with ourselves as we go through the motions, as we reckon that life is not a speed race, but rather more like an endurance one. In the end there are no regrets, only lessons learned. This is a hat tip to Joanna Lumley, and a humble ode to the lady that rocked my boat to the point of making it tip until I fell in the water headfirst. And by the way, I’m convinced that if my ex-girlfriend keeps up the good work with her skin care rituals, she might actually have a shot at looking as good as Joanna Lumley by the turn of her eighth decade roaming the earth!

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