More Joy (another unsent letter)

 Dear Sweet Lovable Joy,

Hi there! Much 💗 and ☮️ be upon thee, O woman. May the gods of hemp and interplanetary happiness bless your baggie to the overflowing and may your weary soul kick back, smoke one, and find repose.

Ah, yes. Well, I'm guilty of thinking of you again in my off hours. Please forgive this infraction of the Laws of Psychologically Correct Behavior. I am not obsessing or brooding, just pleasantly reminiscing and contemplating our times together. I've really enjoyed your opening up your life and letting me in.

I realize that I have been taking you away from your responsibilities by altering your routine. I do not wish to upset your life, only enrich it. You seem to be needing a bit of space, so I s'pose we ought to cool down and be more adult about our relationship. 

Please forgive me if I make all the classic mistakes. I don't want to play games or use manipulative tricks or be dishonest with you. I am an emotionally insecure person. I need lots of love and attention. When I am sure and certain that I am loved (I am not sure I have ever been) and am secure in the peace of that knowledge, I will require less reassurance and relinquish my fears of being hurt and abandoned.

I know it is not fair to bring the problems of my 27 years into a new and unspoiled relationship, especially when the person is as kind and sweet as you. If I am too sensitive, it is not your fault. I should be more mature.

When I heard you tell your friend about the guy who turned you off by writing you multi-page letters and sending flowers and calling too much, I began to get the feeling that I should be taking a hint from this: Don't overdo it.

I certainly would love to shower you with affection and treat you to the best things in life because of how wonderful you make me feel. I have been lonely and alone my whole life and suddenly there's someone who makes me feel warm and loved. It's only natural to want to get as close as possible and to not want to let go. 

I have been starving, and now I am pigging out. I suppose what I should do is to savor you slowly, enjoying each delicious bite, rather than try to devour you all at once. I have grown up with the refugee mentality: Grab what you can today, tomorrow it may be gone.

I suppose that trust can only come with consistency and the passage of time. If the sun has behaved in the same manner (rising and setting, giving light and heat) for as long as it has, I guess I can be secure knowing that it will continue to do so. People are different. They change, die, betray, go away. Not always. There are exceptions. But it is a naive thing to give one's heart away to a stranger.

I have always been the "jump right in" type of person. And I've always been hurt. Hmm. But is indifference the answer? No, life is vulnerable. If you are perfectly protected, you are not human. Humans have hearts and can be hurt. 

I want to experience the range of emotions that humans are capable of, in their proper proportions. OK, so maybe I prefer joy to, say, sadness or pain. But if we were meant to never suffer, we'd all be mannequins with smiles painted on, or Brady kids or TV evangelists.

What I'm getting at is, OK, I really like you a lot. Like ice cream or cheesecake. And I'm like a kid from Ethiopia, tasting it for the first time. You, being the more mature of us (because women are smarter) are responsible to keep me in line, set the pace and make sure I don't get bulimic. I will respect your judgement.

I only hope that when you get to know me, you will still love me. I am not harboring a secret life or hidden personality disorder. I wear all my problems, joys and defects on the outside. What you see is what you get. What needs improving, I hope to improve, and my life's philosophy is still under construction. 

Take it slow. Ok. Let's do that. But let's not play any games.

Love ya,

Andrew

Ode to Joy, or another random love letter from 1992

Dearest Honey Blossom Cakes O' Sweetness,

To begin with, Hi there! I hope the gods of green bud bless your brain lobes with the ever expanding euphoria associated with smoking a joint, meditating or kicking back near a body of water. Peace be to you soul, mind, household appliances and body (including a special blessing upon those marvelously molded anterior parts, of which I am extremely fond). Peace to your buttocks. Peace be upon them mightily!

OK, OK...I am getting a bit carried away in my benediction. Please forgive. The purpose of my letter, besides trying to make you feel special, is to convince you that I am not crazy (ie. psychotic, obsessive/compulsive, addictive personality, manic/depressive, axe murderer, abuser of small penguins...) but simply suffering from an old affliction, often misdiagnosed in modern times: LOVE.

OK, I know that in the early stages, the symptoms of love are very similar to gout, or the onset of mental illness. But dammit (just thought I'd say "dammit") what's wrong with being in love, feeling it, expressing it, shouting it, singing about it, writing voluminous letters of adoration--etc? It seems the world has been doing it for a very long time now, and I must say, of all the attainments in life, love seems the most worthy to be put on a pedestal. Love, in all its forms and expressions, seems to me what it is all about.

Sure, there are some sick and twisted individuals who, "in the name of love," do horrendous acts, but this should not sully the reputation of TRUE LOVE. I don't think one should be afraid to love or to let oneself be loved. The possibility of hurt is inherent in anything we do as humans unless we have had our central nervous system removed or re-wired. So, if we are human and we are going to be hurt anyway in life, why not let ourselves be loved?

"Love yourself," I hear someone in the back say. Sure. But there's a limit to how much love you can heap on yourself before it gets disgusting. And it really is more spiritually satisfying to love others and let them love you back. Self-love is a lonely world. You can be happy alone, and indeed all of us are alone inside our own individual consciousnesses. No one, no matter how much acid they do, can truly share another's consciousness.

But--it is pleasant to share experiences and ideas with another person who is similarly tuned to the universe. Having a partner or soul mate or lover to share burdens, talk, share the bounty of life (good food, music, etc) and have a warm secure intimate relationship with--what's wrong with that? If two people have the desire to be together, to be in love and agree that they will work with and not try to hurt one another, why fight it?

I know that you have responsible considerations to make, as you have a child who depends on you not to make poor choices. But oh, honey, don't you see I have honorable intentions? I will do anything to prove this to you. I am willing to work on my life.

I don't believe that anyone should try to change anyone else. I don't want you to change what you are--what you are is what I'm attracted to. We all have things we want to improve in ourselves, but that is up to us to change or not. I can make adjustments and be content in varied circumstances. I think I am ready to do what it takes to make a relationship work.

I'm not saying I'll always do everything right. Like right now. I should probably be more aloof. Give you more space to breathe and think. And I will. But dammit (love that word for emphasis) I am in love, and I'm not ashamed of acting the idiot. I just don't want to drive you away.

So, darling, don't be afraid of getting attached to me. I will never do anything to hurt or betray you. You are very special to me, I've never met anyone who makes me feel all the ways you do. I feel comfortable with you, like we're already old friends, and yet quite excited by you and attracted to you physically. You are, on the whole, a very wonderful person and I hope you will give me the chance to become a part of your life.

If I do anything that you feel uncomfortable with, I want you to tell me. I feel that people should above all be honest about their feelings.

You know, this has been a pretty mushy letter, all this about "love" and "feelings." Hell, I reckon I got it pretty bad. Please don't freak out because of the fact of my many-worded writing illness. It is genetic. All writers go overboard in wooing the women of their fancy. Plus, I have a lot of time on my hands here at work. Next week I plan to solve our country's political problems. But this week my love life takes priority.

Well, honey love flower petal dew drop baby, I got to go to work. Ta Ta.

Love,
Andrew

Another Cuckoo personal ad response (Colony Inn Era circa 1992)

Hello. Hi there. 

 

May our eggs share the same nest, or whatever the local customary thing to say is, this is it.

I hope to be starting off on the right foot with you (left one's always gettin' me in trouble, yah!), so I'll tell you right where I'll begin. Why be answerin' a personal ad any-way? What's wrong with me? 

OK. Fair enough. I started out nice, with a little salutation, and now you want an accounting of all my faults. Well, hmmn. Not going to give it to you.
 
I don't have gangrene or leprosy (HIV+ or -). I have been celibate for over a year, through circumstance not choice, but all things considered, through choice, by not choosing to do anything about it. Well, anyway, I never have been "promiscuous," to say the least. 

Who fricken cares? I'd love to have a wonderful relationship (sex included), but I don't really want to hope for anything at this point. To hope for something is to be disappointed. To be disappointed, I know a lot. I do believe I am sounding negative again, and I swore I'd be presentin' myself nice today. 

 

Hello. Forgive me, entirely. I am a bit down on myself, and The Personal Ads, and The Dating Scene in General, oh, but not life. 

 

I would be oh so happy if I could just meet a nice female person I could relate to and be a part of their lives, not in the way that catfood might be, but in a real, milk sort of way. I mean we could nurture the relationship, you know, like a cactus. 

 

We could bike ride together and eat picnic lunches on islands remote and dangerous, or sit around and drink coffee, or talk about The Future, or just shut up and look in each others eyes (but not like psychos or anything).

 I don't know that people do that any more. Do they hold hands? Is there kissing? I know there's sex, I mean, I suppose there is. Sex is just too dangerous to be talked about mildly. It's like talking about a gun. It's negative. Too negative. Let's not talk of it at all right now. 

 I'd rather fantasize and speculate as to what your eyebrows might look like. Your nose. Your chin. Your shin. Your grin. 'S that a sin?

 What am I some rhyming kind of idiot? OK. We're OK. Got it all out of my system. Now. Let's get introductions straight, since you think I'm on drugs. And I'm not, by the way. They're on me. They're all over me! Get ' em off! Get ' em off! 

My name is Andrew. I have many other personalities, but you need only know of this one 'cause the others all go out and report to demons and commit grave crimes and bury people by the side of the road. Ahem. But besides all the killin', I is a real nice man, whom you should think about dating.

 

F'rinstance, though I am an axe murderer and a junkie, I have a big heart and can be a good loyal friend. And although I belong to the gay Rasta Nazi biker Vietnam vets for Jesus, my politics don't get in the way of my religion (ZEN/Krishna/Satanastrianism).

Sufficient background? Now can we be intimate? Oh, come on! Hell, please? 

Oh, awright. But right now I gotta go. No,really. You want to talk any further than this, you goin' to have ta put another dime in the meter. No hangin' around this Seven-Eleven. Keep movin', gotta keep movin'. 

 

Um, give me a call. If you're bored and want to be more so, only with company.

Nawww.
 
343-2372 Andrew (Hoody) Paul Golding
 

Dearest Whomever (From the Adventuress Wanted era circa 1992)

 09
 
Dearest Whomever;
 

Hi there, my name's Andrew, and I likes me some camping. Yessir. I am 27 years old and am in search of a female travelling companion who may or may not become the woman of my dreams as we roll down the road in my '63 Dodge paramilitary parcel van. 

 

The woman should be rugged, or at least not prissy. She need not be a beauty queen, although I wouldn't object. A real down to earth, sandle wearin', tie dyed, woman of the '90s is what I'm looking for. 

 

See, my plan is to get to know this woman through a letter correspondence, then a couple of visits, then a few preliminary weekend camping trips. Gradually, as I save money and outfit the rig for the long haul, I'd like to live with the girl, sharing expenses and saving together. Then, when we are ready to light out, having consolidated our possessions into a mass of currency and utilitarian luxuries for the journey, we will go. 

 

And go. I'd like to tour the whole U.S. because this is to be the trek of a lifetime. Traveling as cheaply as possible without eating roadkill, I would like to make this last as long as possible. Lakes, rivers, streams and mountains, everywhere will be our home. Until the money goes. Then we will hopefully be either in the locale of our dreams, or in a suburb of a town we don't hate too much, where we can work toward the next six months of travel. 

 

I am very handy and can ply myself to most trades, when given the opportunity. I have worked in an office and machine shop and as a laborer in many fields. Right now I work with the mentally ill. 

 

Anyway, if I have to relocate to meet the girl of my dreams, no problem. I live in Chico at the moment. Been here 10 months, living with grandpa, until he died. Then Uncle Steve took over. I'll be in Chico until something comes along, but when it does I'm ready to jump. 

 

What this means is, I am in a transition phase of my life. I am getting rootbound. Chico is not where I plan to plant myself forever. I want to see the world now, not when I am fifty. 

 

I have some college education, although I believe it is mostly obsolete. Computer programming is different now than 5 years ago. Anyway, it was never really my love.

 

I like music, writing and the arts. I like film (video), guitar, and drawing. I believe I could be the next Madonna, if given the right breaks (and lingerie). 

 

So what's on the list of activities? Camping, stopping at gas stations, canoeing, fishing, hiking, smelling the roses, feeling the earth under our feet, conversing, making love, swimming nude in mountain streams. Getting way out there. 

 

I don't do chemicals or drink excessively. I may partake in a beer or a small green handrolled cigarette from time to time, but I am no abuser. 

 

Let's see. Bear with me. 

 

I am openminded but have a few strong convictions. One is honesty. No thieving, lying or sneaking. I like to be out in the open and hate deception. I respect other peoples lifestyles, hairstyles and religions (where they do not infringe on my rights as a human being).  I get along with all races and speak Spanish confluently. I can also speak jive, when necessary. 

 

OK, lets see. No major diseases, like AIDS, herpes, hippopatamus--whatsoever. I am not promiscuous. I've only had 2 or three real relationships, mostly I have been by myself. I am an uncharted  sea. 

 

I hope to meet someone who is not molded in concrete but  who is adaptable, content and creative. She should also have a nice, firm, round head with a brain inside. She should like  classic and underground rock. This is not critical. She could like mariachi music, as long as she is tolerant of what I listen to. I will be likewise. 

 

So, what's more to say except - "Come on, babe, let's fly!" I'm Andrew, come fly me.
 
Andrew Golding
 PO BOX 5650 

Chico, CA 95927-5650
 

 

A few attempts at personal ads from the early '90s

Andrew Golding
1225 Nord Ave. #167
Chico, CA  95926

Date: 9/02/92                    Box# 58270
Account: 916-3432372        Password: 7229
Date Entered:9/01/92        Ad Taker: 0005
Start Date: 9/03/92
Talking Personal

Men-Women
ECLECTIC, 27, SWM eccentric hippie, artist type, seeking happy relationship with one kind-hearted, down to earth female. Age/race unimportant, warmth and honest a must. Call voice mailbox 53270.


SWM 24, 5'7", 160, Blond, Green Eyes. With undefinable qualities of a good heart, Love of Life and good and aversion to Evil and bad.

and some generic, pre-written responses to ads I may have run across:

Hi. My Name is Andrew.

I'm new in town and I'd like to meet a down to earth girl. I'm looking for a friend or companion who will help bring out my wild and zany side. I'm 5'9", 160 with blond wavy hair and John Lennon spectacles. I'm a moderated drinker and partier and a non cigarette smoker. I like motorcycles, camping, fishing, rock and roll and alternative music. I like a good time. How about you?  Give me a call. Leave me your #.


and this one:

Hello Pretty Woman!

I AM ANDREW.

Child at heart, really. I want to meet somebody who will be a really close friend, like a sister who will always be there. Someone who I will always treasure and respect and love. Yes, I said "Love." I don't believe love is a cheap word. And so your friendship means a great deal. But I am an untamed bachelor and am still a little wild at heart.

I am 5'9", 155, Blond hair and green eyes. For a mental picture here are some actors or personalities I resemble:

John Lennon
Mary Tyler Moore
Richard Harris
Peter Fonda
Charlton Heston
Grace Slick (just kidding) Grace Jones
Kurt Rambis
Robert Oppenheimer

Well, I've been no help. I guess you'll have to meet me and find out. I hope we can meet and be friends. I like all the things you like:

1.  Rain, Sun, Moon and Stars
2.  Parades Flowers
3. Travel and the search for paradise
4. Hiking, biking, fishing and camping
5. Music, Guitar
6. Movies, Art, Musical Entertainment
7. Partying and getting crazy
8. Outdoor stuff, going for long walks
9. And, of course, Romance and bein' with someone you care about

Well, here's lookin' at you, kid.