I met Jayne shortly after relocating to Richmond, over a decade ago. We connected on Match and I remember thinking how out of my league this gorgeous and classy redhead was. We were together about two years, in two one year periods, but would occasionally reconnect as our orbits crossed paths, usually for a night here or there. Our last interlude was during the pandemic lockdown, when we chatted for a few days, but then lost touch. I'd recently reached out to her, letting her know I was now only a couple hours away, and no longer in Kansas, but emails went unanswered and texts went unread. This was completely out of character for her, but today, I discovered why. Jayne had passed away.
She was an accomplished political operative, having worked with George HW Bush as well as being part of Fred Thompson's presidential campaign. She also had the distinction of being felt up by Strom Thurmond.
What drew me to her was her joie de vivre and constantly positive outlook on life. We were always laughing and never failed to have a great time together, regardless of the circumstances. Jayne was a passionate lover (I've previously written about some of our escapades) and one of the most kind, caring, and selfless people I've ever met. Truly a devoted partner, deserving of someone's undying love. And we truly did love each other.
I would have married Jayne, were it not for her demons of alcohol addiction. It was that one thing that prevented me from completely falling for her, despite her successfully quitting the second time we were a couple.
While I remember so much of our time together, there's one snapshot that stands out. One lazy and rainy Saturday afternoon, we found ourselves on the sofa watching DVR'd episodes of Bob Ross. At some point, we became amorous and moved into my bedroom, after pausing the show. There we were in the throes of passion, when the show re-started and we found ourselves with a soundtrack of happy little trees accompanying our lovemaking. Needless to say, we wound up laughing our asses off.
For once, I'm not sure how to conclude an entry. Despite having very little contact in the past several years, I still felt connected in some way to Jayne. She frequently crossed my mind, reliving pleasant memories and my undying hope for her happiness. In some way, I feel responsible, because at the conclusion of our two relationships, she'd relapsed hard. Regardless, the discovery is a hard shot to the gut. I guess that's what happens when you lose someone you loved.
Farewell, Jayne. You'll be missed.
Addendum - Much as I hate to admit to not being bulletproof, Jayne's passing is still hitting me pretty hard the day after. But something came out of nowhere that made me smile today.
While unpacking, I've been listening to some older playlists (only because I'd not heard them in a while) and a song was on one that made me smile and think of Jayne. We were returning from perhaps date number four and perhaps the same playlist was on in my car and "Fuck Her Gently" by Tenacious D came on. Jayne and I were still getting to know one another at that point and I was mortified that this classy lady would think less of me for listening to such a song. Instead, she surprised me by bursting out in laughter. That became our unofficial anthem and we'd sing along to each other, laughing all the while.
