Liminal Love Weirding

This is not a love story, it’s a ghost story…Let’s call it a liminal love scenario with paranormal undertones.

On October 7th I found out that a former boyfriend had died and that it was last year. I’d say that it was weird I discovered this via Twitter/X but that’s how these things play out. Nobody formally ‘notifies’ liminal lovers – you have an undeclared interest. Or maybe it’s like one of those ‘off-the-books’ spy agency escapades.

After a passionate actual-legit relationship in our early 20s, we ended up living on opposite sides of the country and married to other people. He’d flicker in and out of my life on his own mysterious metaphysical rhythm, eventually evolving into the ultimate Neptunian Boyfriend.

As a multiple conjunct Pisces, he was highly qualified for the role  – a fluid, charming Chaos Agent and epic raconteur who was just attentive enough to make you glad not to be the one married to him but never really there there. I was surprised to see he’d passed because he’d seemed so anti-fragile – tall, handsome, funny as fuq, a vibe-lifter in any room.

For a relationship that happened when we were so young and which was largely based on each of us thinking the other enormously attractive, we actually had a pretty good friendship and it evolved into a unique rapport. Sure, he’d turn up like the Cat in the Hat, whip up enthusiasm for ridiculous benders and piss off whatever husband or boyfriend I had at the time but even they would end up saying he was a ‘top bloke.’

I would never have wanted to ‘be’ with him but I didn’t realize that the last time I saw him was actually the last time I would see him.

So on the afternoon of October 7, I went for an afternoon siesta with a glum heart and when I awoke it was late afternoon. Then the weirdest thing happened: I felt the slight ‘slide-out’ of my usual self that usually precedes a vision or supernatural moment but it was nowhere like the usual phenom. The soft shadowy violet darkness of the twilight was being overwhelmed by a different kind of darkness, unmistakably menacing and seeming to spread quickly, creeping into the center like a sudden tide.

For a split second I wondered if this was to do with my Neptunian boyfriend but swiftly realized it was way beyond him or me. This was bad, as in bad enough for me to leap out of bed, screech something naff like “begone,”put all the lights on and sage/sistrum the fuq out of the room.

Shaken, I found my daughter and said ‘something horrible has happened in the world, something beyond the norm.’  Unperturbed but curious, she grabbed her phone to check – “nothing unusual, politicians saying…oh wait” she said. “Some guy seems to have gone over the Isreal border on a hang-glider, what the fuq…?“

My automatic associations of hang-gliders were clearly rooted in Seventies ads I saw as a child or something because for a moment I visualized a fabulously benign version of this scenario  – an influencer trying to look cool or a daredevil stunt gone awry, cue free publicity etc.

But sadly, as we know, no. I stood there, still spooked by the substance I’d seen snaking around the corners of my room, watching my daughter’s face change as update after update flashed up on the screen.

Later that evening I found the most recent email from my Neptunian Boyfriend – I don’t think I replied as I thought he’d sent it when he was drunk or high. Or if I did reply, it was with a funny one-liner suggesting he can’t have much work on at the moment.

While he was always witty and an amazing writer, this email read more like disjointed notes for a nostalgic short story based on reality – “the pub by the beach you made me walk ten kilometres to get to…”, “your weird house with the phone box outside,” “nocturnal thunder, your cat…”

It kind of trailed off and I was aghast thinking he’d written it when ill or even when he knew he was dying and I hadn’t picked up on it. But then I realized that the sent date on the email was nine weeks after he’d passed. Naturally the ‘sensible’ explanation is that someone had closed down his email account and everything in draft form sent automatically- a Mercury Retrograde computer phenomenon.

But then I thought that if anyone could figure out a way to tap into the email system from the afterworld, it would be him. I think a lot of people have these liminal love scenarios going on – they’re not part of the official relationship apparatus and their feelings or any bereavement are practically alt-dimensional.

It doesn’t need to have even involved romantic love – some lives merge at significant times or a person has an outsize influence on you; neither of you show up on the other’s records, social media, whatever but it was there and magic – it matters.

Thoughts?