No matter. We've had a moment, I can tell that much. As for me, I know I'll never be the same. As for Jack, regardless of what he says, I know that I'm probably just one of hundreds or thousands who have been up here. So be it. I'm not ashamed or embarrassed. I'll always have my memory of our time together here. No one will ever be able to take that away. If only at some point I had remembered to call him by his name, "Jack." If only.
A little later on, both our composures regained, Jack lights up a cigarette, and through an occluding haze I ask him, "Do you think you're a good guy?"
He doesn't hesitate. "Yeah, I do. I'm pretty consistently well-intended. It'd be hard for me to recall where I've been underhanded."
"Don't you think cheating on your girls is kind of –"
"I didn't. I didn't think so, no."
"You didn't think what?"
"That it was underhanded. I knew, for instance, when I got married, because of my libido – I was silently emanating to the above, 'This does not mean there's not going to be other women in my life. I'm taking certain vows here. [But] between you and me, let me be at least clear.' There have been many times I've been totally sure, not having been put to the test, that it would be no problem for me to be, uh, what do you call it?"
"Monogamous. Yeah. But many times I've thought, 'This is impossible for me.' Someone once said, 'It's not loving that you miss. It's being loved.' I don't have that primary sense. I haven't given up hope, but most of my friends think I'm a little goofy in that area, which is why I knew I would be singular at this point in my life."
I think what he means to say is "single at this point in my life," not singular, as in deviating from the customary, or without equal or rival, or far beyond what is usual and normal. I'm not sure, though. And either way, it works out the same.
This story is from the October 5th, 2006 issue of Rolling Stone.
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