Bondo - The Superpower of Intimacy
How I discovered my superpower by interrupting a stranger in the night.
I studied the map of the Santa Cruz coastline in search of the spot…
…what my kids jokingly described as “Bruce trying to find Karen’s pleasure spot.” It was Pleasure Point, the necking spot where Karen took me on our first date. Is “necking” still a word?
With sons Nathaniel and Jacob in the car, and Jake’s girlfriend Hillary at the wheel, we pulled into the cliffside parking lot overlooking the ferocious surf below. Nothing in sight matched my forty-year memory except the line of surfers waiting for waves in the dark. Who knew surfers surf in the dead of night?
The kids headed down the steps where huge waves — bam-bam-bam — exploded into fountains of spray against the stairs. We watched a daredevil surfer make a break toward the steps without getting pummeled against concrete and steel.
I studied the asphalt parking, restrooms, and concrete cliffs. Nothing jived with the scruffy pull-off where Karen parked “Lightning,” her ancient AMC Gremlin with the racing stripe and inline six. “It’s named after Lightning Hopkins,” Karen announced as she turned off the ignition.
Ooh, I thought, a connoisseur of musical obscurities — rarely a girl thing. We had just come from a concert of Robin Duncan Harry Williamson, the Scottish songwriter and storyteller who founded The Incredible String Band. Or maybe it was Winston Rodney, the Jamaican reggae artist known as Burning Spear. Can’t remember which concert came first, but this girl had musical taste.
Nothing looked the same, so I studied the only person there — a woman talking on her phone.
As the minutes ticked by, I grumbled, “Get off the phone, dammit.” I desperately wanted someone to take our picture. This was our first time together as a family since Karen’s passing.
Fifteen minutes later (jeez, how long can this woman talk?), I centered in my heart and tiptoed into her space.
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry to interrupt you, but could you do me a huge favor?”
“Honey, hold for a second…” she said before turning to me. “How can I help?”
“This may sound weird,” I explained, “But my wife drove me to this spot on our first date — our first kiss. It was at night, just like this.”
“Honey, hold on.”
It all spilled out: “Forty years ago, I traveled up from L.A. to give a presentation, and they set me up on a blind date. I walked in and was immediately introduced to this Tennessee girl. Everyone was embarrassed, and this may sound crazy, but I instantly found her in my heart. She went by Suzie. She took me to this very spot. She rolled a cigarette (which blew my mind), and called me darlin’. She motioned for a kiss, and that was that. I was smitten.”
“What an amazing story.”
“I apologize; I’m a bit giddy.”
“No, no — totally okay.”
“And get this: The clincher wasn’t the kiss — or the cigarette.”
“What was it?” she asked.
“Karen got out of the car, climbed underneath, and started banging a hammer like boom-boom. She called out, ‘The linkage gets stuck; some guy taught me how to do this.’ That was the kick-off — marriage, children, careers, community, travel, and a magical 40 years followed.”
I got misty-eyed. “She died recently.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I couldn’t hold back the tears and embraced the stranger for consolation. Women are amazing. She remained completely present for my moment, then looked down at her phone.
“Honey, are you still there?” She turned back to me. “It’s our anniversary.”
“Wow, that’s… I’m so sorry to interrupt.” I looked away toward the sea.
“What about you, your anniversary?” She asked.
“Karen died in December.”
“No, I mean, your wedding anniversary,” she continued.
“Wow. Uhm, I’m so disoriented. I think it was August.”
“This is August!” she exclaimed. “When in August?”
My mind drew a blank, so I calculated: 1984, Olympics. L.A,. “That’s it, we sold our Opening Ceremonies tickets to pay for the wedding. It was August 18.”
“August 18th is tomorrow!”
“That’s crazy. I should celebrate — I mean, WE should celebrate.” (Karen, you there?)
I hugged her again and called up the kids. By some miracle of technology, the iPhone took our perfect picture in the dark.
On the drive back to Palo Alto, I played back the sequence:
Found the spot, woman on the phone, interrupted her call, wedding anniversary, tears, hugs, picture. The obvious question: Was Karen behind all this? Probably. More importantly: What was that? Instant intimacy?
Maybe Bondo is a superpower. Like Superman catching Lois Lane in mid-air, Bondo is a gift of the moment. It’s a willingness to go there — to bring life and love to a stranger in the dark.
Something shifted: I could stop feeling sorry for myself. I had that superpower.
The next night, we met Anais, my brother’s daughter. She was visiting Palo Alto for Microsoft. Despite being first cousins, Jacob, Nathaniel, and Anais lived on opposite ends of the country and had never really met. After dinner, ice cream, window shopping, and lots of laughter, I asked the three cousins, “Now that you have known each other for three hours, do you feel like family?”
“Oh, absolutely!” They chimed in while sharing contacts. “We’re planning a family reunion.”
And there it was, Bondo — the capacity to form and maintain intimate relationships.
Bondo explains how you can feel family-level intimacy after one dinner or while bumping into a stranger at Pleasure Point. The trick is to let people into your heart.
I gave up trying to fix my loneliness and decided to apply myself to the Bondo Project. Suddenly, I had a noble mission that felt like Karen. We live in an isolated world where the muscle memory of how to be together is slipping away. Maybe I could promote the superpower of Bondo based on forty years of commitment and love.
Like a love chemist, I spent the next few weeks discerning the Bondo ingredients. Bondo was like a blood panel. Instead of low TSH and high cholesterol, Bondo measures intimacy against seven metrics — the Seven C’s:
The Seven Seas of BONDO™ — The capacity to form and maintain intimate relationships.
1. CONNECTION
A shared, energetic vibration deepens through face-to-face proximity and time.
2. CONVERSATION
Call and response is a creative force that builds the substance of intimacy.
3. CARING
We discover and maintain a sacred place in our hearts for each of our beloveds.
4. CURIOSITY
Our partner may carry a hidden story of pain and adversity we must learn to face without judgment.
5. CIRCULATION
Like bees bringing pollen to the hive, intimacy is energized by the food of impressions we bring into a relationship from the outside world.
6. COURAGE
Piercing the impasse behind conflict and difficult feelings releases a force that opens the heart.
7. CONSTANCY
A commitment made outside of time transcends the walls of despair that divide us.
I reached out to my therapist friend Carole Anne to invite her to become my partner in the project:
Hi Carole Anne,
Let’s do a Bondo workshop in Asheville — like a focus group to see if the Bondo experiment holds water. Here are seven Bondo questions I have:
Am I alone in seeking intimacy at a certain age, or does everyone consciously or unconsciously seek Bondo?
How does Bondo feed us? Since Bondo is creative, is it a source of “continuous renewal?”
How is Bondo different than love? We can experience love without a partner, so what is unique about a human encounter?
Since Bondo is dynamic, does this explain why the flux of a relationship frightens us?
I watch older single people find Bondo through their family and grandchildren. Why does this feel like a cop-out?
Since Bondo builds with time (40 years in my case), is there a fast-acting Bondo for later-life relationships? What does “fresh Bondo” feel like in your 60s+?
Do casual encounters count as Bondo — with a server, retail clerk, yoga teacher, or someone at the dog park?
Carole Anne wrote back:
“Bruce, my first impression was to gasp at how the card is so beautiful, absolutely stunning. I could relate to all of the C’s and wanted to learn more. Let’s talk tomorrow!”
On Wednesday morning we Quakers do a writing group ... the prompt was:"An old friend." Here is what I wrote: This morning Bruce sent a picture from when he and Karen were 1st in love. I didn't meet her until years later when I traveled to Atlanta ... and even tenth house was so full of people it just didn't happen in any deep way.
But this morning we met as though for the 1st time ... she and Bruce were arm in arm ... the two of them are sort of family to me ... and when I looked at her in the 1980's picture it was just like when we met again last December when she lay dying. There was the same spacious quality of a pair of human hearts that share the same space. There is just not anything else in life quite like it.
And though I meet with people all the day along, as I sit with the dying or walk our dog ... that proximity just doesn't happen all that often.
Even with Karen, though sometimes we used to sit together in the hall with our backs against the stairs and our feet upon the wall ... she used to study there. I at least did not feel the spacious mutual heart day to day.
The last time they came to visit us we were sitting together in the living room .. She said: "I feel so comfortable with you." And this morning I thought the same: "I feel so comfortable with you."