My Secret Valentine

When I was just a young girl of 20, I fell madly passionately in love for the first time.  He was 9 years older than me--English born and bred.  We met by accident.  He played in a hugely popular 80's New Wave band and was in the midst of a world tour.

Romanian gypsy in his blood.  Handsome, intelligent, kind, gentle, funny, a creative genius.  We share the same November birth date.  It was a crazy,  intense love that physically made my heart beat faster. When we we were apart due to his work and we reunited it was as if no time had ever passed between us.  We started right where we left off.  Call it fate,  Call it destiny.  I've never publicly written about him or what we shared.  There were so many times I wished he had a different career--a doctor, a mechanic, anything but what he was.  I didn't love him for his fame or glory.  I simply loved him. 

Flash forward 27 years, the man is in the midst of a world tour promoting his new album, his first in over 18 years after a lengthy struggle with bipolar illness and a not so nice English press.  He is dangerously close...my heart tells me to take that short trip to see him.  But my head tells me no.  Out of fear I suppose.  FEAR--False Evidence Appearing Real.

Do I take that short trip west?  Take the risk to see him, to talk to him?  The city he is appearing in is the city where we met during a snowstorm on February 11, 1983,   It is not my hometown. It will be his first return to that place since that date.