Single In New York...
New Post. New Place. New Me.
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Sorry for the absence. Things have been crazy. Work, family, life in general. You know the drill.
Anyway, I suppose I should’ve mentioned it earlier… But as an experiment I started a new blog with a whole new attitude. Less readers, sure. But it’s a bit more about me and little less about love. Which is how my life is looking these days. I found it hard juggling two different blogs (and virtually two different attitudes) at the same time.
Check me out on the new blog for more up to date info on the life of Dean, The New York City Cynic (Formerly Single In New York) at http://nycitycynic.blogspot.com/
Playing Old Games.
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Thursday night I had been itching for a break after spending the last four days with my father. Just as I was dreaming of what the sun would feel like on my face, while I sat cold in a hospital, my cell phone rang. It was J.
“Do you have time to get away for a little while?”
“Your timing couldn’t be more perfect!”
So he picked me up and we went to the Shrine. “You want to climb the rock and sit at the statues feet? For old time’s sakes?” He’d asked. I smiled at him, and started climbing without saying a word. And he climbed right beside me.
As we sat the foot of a stone statue some 20 feet taller than I and some 20 feet off of the ground, J put his arm around me as we sat Indian style next to each other.
“Want to play a game?”
I just looked at him. One eyebrow raised and half a smirk on my face. “What kind of game are we talking?”
“One of your favorites. We used to play this all the time.”
“Small words?” I asked. He smiled. “You start.” I said.
[This a game we used to play when we were dating and going through a rough patch. When we would fight a lot, this always helped. We would each just say short words and short sentences, which made it harder to be mean. And it ALWAYS put a smile on our faces.]
J – “You’ve changed.”
D – “I’m ever changing.”
J – “I like it.”
D – “What?”
J – “The new you.”
D – “I miss this.”
J – “Me too.”
D – “I love you.”
J – “I love you too.”
D – “IN love with you.”
He didn’t say anything.
D – “Always have been.”
D – “Always will be.”
He just looked at me.
D – “I’m sorry.”
J – “Don’t be.”
And we sat in silence for a few hours together watching the sun set over the tree tops. He just held me and didn’t say a word. And then he took me home where he hugged me tight, kissed my forehead, said good night, said he loved me, and said he’d call me later.
Which he did. He asked me if I wanted to go to the beach with him that night to talk some more. But I was tired and knew that I still had things to do for my father the next day and needed to be in the best shape I could be to take care of him. So I declined.
So things didn’t turn out the way I would have liked. But I tried. And that’s a lot. Especially for me. (Remember my previous post? “Hi! My name is… Coward!”) I still love him. And I still always will. And it still hurts. And it might forever. But that was a risk I had to take.
Confessions, Distractions, and Butterflies in my Tummy.
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But here I am. Letting go. Of both my secrets and my responsibilities.
I am sitting in a very [uncomfortable] chair in a large, empty, cold, white hospital room. My father sleeps peacefully with the aid of medication. I listen to him breathe steadily at a much slower rythm than the keys of my laptop.
We will call him J.
**************************************
J and I have been through a lot together. We had dated on and off all through out high school. And shortly thereafter. He went away to college while I stayed home. I broke up with him before he left and demanded that he have fun at college without having to worry about me at home and how I would feel about the things he was doing. We agreed to stay friends, and we have.
Other than my sister, J is my best friend. We don’t always talk, and we see each other about once a year these days, but when we do, we pick up right where we left off. I know that he would be there for me if I ever needed him for anything, any time, anywhere in the world. And vice versa.
J and I will always have a special bond.
At a Christmas party this past winter we had chatted with each other for the first time in person in over a year. He introduced me to his live-in girlfriend of a year and I introduced him to the new crush in my life (you remember him? Mr. Perfect). Things were very nice. We caught up on what was new with each other, how our families had been, and places/bands/movies we had seen. We laughed about old times and hugged each other goodnight for what felt like eternity.
I got to see J again this past weekend. He drove down to attend a graduation party for a mutual friend of ours’. Him and his live-in girlfriend. She is very sweet, she’s pretty and smart, funny, and most importantly she adores him and treats him good.
*******************************************
But this isn’t about them. It’s about me. And my secret.
I have earlier mentioned that J was my first true love. So for that, he will always hold a special place in my heart. But what I neglected to mention was that I am still in love with J. That I might always be in love with J. And I have been lying to myself about that for years.
Even when I was with the Ex (the loser one) and all the other guys in between I would still think of J though we don’t talk often anymore. (Our schedules conflict. But we try to make it work!) And when I haven’t thought of him for a long time, I convince myself that I am not in love with him anymore.
…Until I see him.
Or hear is voice.
And I fall…
Head over heels.
All. Over. Again.
Such as this weekend. I like to think that I hide it well, that not even my best friends who know me better than anybody know my true feelings for him.
J pulls me aside.
“Dean. I heard about your father. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come down!” He’s referring to the Father’s Day weekend disaster.
“Don’t worry about it. He’s fine now. But I’m sure he’d love to see you. If you have time before you head home, you should stop over there.”
“Yea I will. But you really should have called me. Is there anything you need?”
“No. I’ve got it all under control. But thanks.”
We hug. And we walk back to the table to engage in some more drinking, reminiscing and chain smoking on the patio by the pool.
Sitting at a round table is me, six high school classmates I was very close with at one point, their significant others, and a mutual friend of all of our’s whom is a few years older than we are. Sitting across from me is J and his girlfriend.
Just as the sun is setting, the firepit is getting started and the candles are being lit, one of my best friends from high school (we will call her B) and someone who is very close with J as well, pulls me aside.
“Dean. I’m not crazy. I swear. But I think J is still in love with you.”
“WHAT?!” Im genuinely shocked.
“I’m serious. You should see the way he looks at you. You were talking before to S and he was staring at you… adoringly.”
“B, have you lost your mind?! He has a girlfriend, that he lives with, for almost TWO years now!”
“Yea, but… Didn’t he ask you to move in with him?”
“About 100 years ago! Seriously, I was dating ‘The Ex’ and he wanted me to move hundreds of miles from home and work. We were just kids!”
“But that didn’t stop you from moving in with The Ex.”
“That was different.”
“I’m just saying. I think there’s a good chance he’s still in love with you.”
“Alright. And what am I supposed to do about it?”
“Go after him! I always said you guys were meant to be together!!”
“We did nothing but fight when were together! We’re much better off as friends.”
“You were kids!”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“Whatever. I’m just saying…”
Is she right? I have no clue. And I will most likely never know. Because I will never ask him. And I will never admit to B that I still love him whether he loves me or not, because what J and I have is very special. It’s something most people will never experience in their entire lives, and we are so very lucky for that. And because of the great bond that we share, I will never risk making things weird between us.
…Unless of course he admits it first.
Then, all bets are off.
My Dearest J,
I thought it important to express how deep my love is for you. That the air would not smell as sweet should it not blow through your hair. That the sun is only warm when I think of it kissing your cheeks and then I become envious, for I long to kiss those cheeks myself. That the night time sky wouldn’t be as beautiful if glistening stars didn’t remind me of the twinkle in your beautiful, brown eyes.
I should tell you that the crashing waves and the towering buildings no longer scare me. Nor do I fear the howling wind of a thundering storm, the cold lonely nights, the thick haunted woods. I don’t even fear the distance between us. For I know that our hearts will one day bring us together and we will share the rest of our days cherishing one another.
My love for you, sweet J, is infinite and immortal. It is what keeps me going in these times when I cannot see your face, hear your voice, or be held in your arms. The love I hold so tight is strong and it’s pure, but mostly it’s beautiful. It is so exquisite that William Shakespeare himself could not find words to express its full splendor.
Tonight, handsome J, dream of me as I dream of you. And know that soon we will be together for all time.
Thinking of you always with more love than I could express in ten thousand lifetimes,
Dean.
But we live in 2008. And I would not dare share such a letter. But, perhaps it will go a little like this instead,
“I wanted to tell you that I love you. That I’ve loved you all along. And I’ll always love you.”
And I’ll leave it at that. Because while sonnets and melodies are gorgeous, sometimes just the straightforward, reader’s digest version is all that’s needed. (And easier for me to spit out before I throw up all over him from being so nervous.)
I’m not yet sure when this will take place. But we are supposed to be getting together either tonight or tomorrow night (depending on the condition of my dad after some more testing today). Of course I will report back…
Back. And in full swing.
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So here I am. Back in New York. Back to my old life. And I mean my OLD life. The one where I was single. Yea… you remember that, don’t you? I do. Clear as day.
Bonnaroo.
I’m in Manchester, Tennessee. Sitting on the side of some highway which number I can’t remember. 40? 76? Beats the hell out of me. There were a dozen of them. Anyway, we’re sitting on the side of the highway in the blazing sun with a few thousand other cars waiting on line to get in to the field and prepared to do so for at least four more hours. “Crack me open a beer?” I ask Bill who is barely awake in the back seat. A lot of the cars around us are unoccupied. It’s passengers are roaming in the grass, throwing footballs, shotgunning beers, and here I am… hippie at heart… picking wild flowers on the side of the highway and placing them behind my ear. We get back in the car to move it. A whopping 35 feet. That was worth the gas. At $4.Something a gallon. While still sitting in the car, I notice the two guys in the car in front of us.
“I like that one. The taller one with the light hair. He’s cute. It’s a doofy sort of way.”
“You think?” Asks Tiff (who’s driving).
“Yea. He’s alright.”
Not even two seconds later, taller guy and shorter guy are headed toward the car. I roll down my window, light up a camel non-filter and take a giant swig of Amstel Light.
We share a few minutes of small talk before it’s time to move the car again. This time, a whole 50 feet. That’s when Tiff looks over at me. “You know they only came over here because they didn’t see Bill in the back seat, right?”
“Oh yea. I know.” And we laugh.
We bullshit the whole five hours waiting on line to get into the place. We make an agreement to share a campsite, share beer, food, etc.
After spending the entire first day with Taller, Lighter haired guy and his buddy, TG (taller guy) and I decide we’re headed over to the staging area. Yea, there’s no bands we want to see the first night, but we want to check out the place too. We head back to the campsite an hour or so later and find we’re alone.
“Want to see my tent?”
Now, I’m not that easy a sale. I can promise you that. But I’m drunk. I’m single. And hadn’t gotten laid in I don’t even know how long. Alright, I do know how long. And it was too long.
So I slept with him.
Things would have been fine after that. I was totally content with just hanging all weekend and not even aknowledging the situation, but he got clingy. Sure he wanted to get laid again. Simple as that.
But we live states away.
And he’s still clingy.
So sorry I gave the kid my number.
A warning and an apology.
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For the three readers that I do have, I am sorry that I have not been here in quite some time.
While down in Tennessee for a long weekend attending Bonnaroo (a festival with camping, drinking, music, and drinking) my father suffered two strokes while I was gone.
I have been attemping to take the best possible care for him that I can right now. So I will not be around until he starts to come around. I’m sorry.
I will be back… soon… hopefully.
Hope all is well with everyone out there.
Hi! My Name Is: Coward.
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Doc and I are laying in my bed watching Sex in the City reruns. And it makes me wonder, will I be Carrie Bradshaw forever?
Sure, we’re both single and living in New York. We go out for drinks with our friends after a long day in the office. We rely on our laptops, sitting at home, calling our names after we experience a night of bliss, a night of turmoil and everything in between. The keys long to be pressed by my fingers while I dictate every detail of my life’s events. Or sometimes the lack thereof.
The difference between Carrie and I? Well, for starters, I don’t march down Fashion Avenue wearing Manolo Blahniks and sip martinis and cosmopolitans with Manhattan socialites, corporate executives and a wealthy lawyer. I do, however, sip imported beers (at $8 a pop) at pubs with a documentary producer, an art gallery owner, a waitress, a struggling actor, a writer, a college professor, a New York City firefighter, and a few students. My hair does not look nearly as nice or tamed as hers when it decides to defy my many efforts to keep it from curling. I don’t work one day a week, in fact I work eight. I do not attend glamorous galas, parties, and balls. And I don’t sleep with every person that I date.
I am dating someone, yes. He is not the Mr. Perfect you have read about in previous posts. He is not that friend that I mentioned once or twice before. He is not the Ex.
He’s… someone semi-new.
He and I met last May at a bar. He’s a few years older than me, but still likes to have fun. He is mature and responsible but spontaneous and carefree at the same time (if that is possible).
But this post is not about him.
It’s about me. About my desire to be happy, but my inability to allow myself to do so. I refuse to open up to people. This is a flaw that I am aware of, am ashamed of, but still cannot seem to break this horrible habit of mine. What is it that I am afraid of? What is it that scares me so much that I will push people away from me? People that seem to care about me, and want to be there for me.
And most importantly, how do I make myself stop?
I cannot say whether or not he will be fed up with these habits of mine. But I can tell you that many have done that before. And have walked away, leaving me in the dust, without looking back because of this terrible thing that I do. And I never see it coming. Not until it’s too late. And all that’s left is sad little Dean and her self-broken heart.
Which brings me back to Carrie. Am I Carrie Bradshaw? As much as I wish I weren’t. As much as I don’t want to be. As much as I deny it… I think I know deep down it’s true. And I think my friends know it too. And perhaps they’re just too afraid to bring it to my attention, fearing that I don’t already know. Fearing that I might feel attacked, criticized, or ridiculed. Fearing I will only put my guard up higher and stronger.
I don’t want to be Carrie. I don’t want to be Samantha, Miranda, or even Charlotte. I want to be Dean. But I want to be the Dean that’s not afraid to be happy.
Using all the strength I have, I will open up to him. Right now.
Lessons I’ve Learned.
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1.) When you lie to your parents and go somewhere/do something they would not approve of, you run the risk of getting into some kind of trouble. Resulting in your getting caught or forcing you to lie some more to ensure you don’t get caught.
2.) When you break a bone, it hurts.
3.) When a doctor recommends something (casting a limb, wiring your jaw shut, prescribing medication, warning you of future risks, etc.) you should always listen. They know what they’re talking about. (Which is why they’re doctors.)
4.) Whenever you think there’s no hope left… you’re wrong. Always.
5.) People can always be understood and forgiven. But situations don’t have to be forgotten. Especially situations that turned into lessons.
6.) The only things in life that cannot be erased:
a) The past.
b) Words that were spoken.
c) Broken promises.
7.) Family is always the most important thing. If your family is not worthy of your love, create a new family, we often call them friends when they mean so much more.
8.) Don’t ever pass up an opportunity to tell a loved one just how much they mean to you.
9.) A broken heart hurts much worse than people will tell you. You’ll never understand unless you actually experience it.
10.) Everyone should experience it. At least once. You’ll appreciate the love that much more.
11.) I’m not perfect. Neither are you. Don’t get too mad at other people who just can’t help but makes mistakes. We’ve all made our share. (Some more than others.)
12.) Fall in love. Every fucking chance you get!
13.) Try to forgive people for their past. You may have done something that someone else might not approve of.
14.) Express yourself as much as you can everyday. Write, paint, read, dye your hair a funky color, dress however you want to, get a tattoo, and remember just how beautiful you are when you’re being true to yourself.
15.) Smile. Everyday. Because no matter how hard things get, someone always has it worse than you, and someone would always “kill” to be in your shoes rather than their own.
16.) Be thankful for every single thing you’ve ever done and experienced. It made you who you are. Don’t regret a thing.
17.) When you say something about someone else that you wouldn’t want them to hear; There’s a 98% chance they’re going to hear it. So be careful.
18.) When you call out sick from your job to go to your favorite bar with all of your friends, there is a very high risk of running into your boss while you’re there. (Learned that one this weekend. Whoops!)
19.) Things that always change:
a.) Fashion
b.) Music
c.) Time
d.) Weather
e.) Technology
f.) Relationships
g.) The strengthening/weakening of your heart
20.) The value of your worth is determined by you, not by status, money, power, material things, etc. If you feel that you’re worth nothing, than you are. And trust me; you’re always worth a lot more than you give yourself credit for.
21.) Don’t let anyone make you feel any less than wonderful. Because it’s not true and they don’t deserve to know just how wonderful you really are.
22.) There won’t always be a tomorrow. But try not to think about it. Today is so much more important! Because if there is a tomorrow, what you do today can make or break it.
23.) Love is so much sweeter when you’re not afraid of it.
24.) Work is just work. It should never be your life. Your family, friends, experiences, adventures, lessons, mistakes, smiles, laughs, memories, heart-aches, and failures are what make up your life. Work is just something we do to make sure we can have all those other things.
25.) Trust your gut.
26.) Don’t even be afraid to ask for help. Offer to help others every chance you get.
27.) Doing what you love is so much more important than making millions of dollars.
28.) Try as many new things as possible and meet as many new people as you can. You can never have too many friends and learning new things, trying new things, going new place is an important part of life.
29.) Don’t hold in your feelings. You’re only hurting yourself that way.
30.) Always remember:
The sun always rises in the East.
It always sets in the west.
The stars always shine.
(Even if you can’t see them.)
Time never stops.
And it doesn’t rewind.
People come and go.
Just make sure you know who to keep and who to let go.
Time doesn’t heal all things.
But it certainly can help.
It takes more energy to be angry, than it does to be happy.
Try to learn other people’s lessons.
But most importantly:
Learn from your own.
Little Girl in Solitude.
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Childhood memories are lost in a maze that is the brain. A kaleidoscopic filing system where nothing is in order. Not chronologically, not alphabetically, and not prioritized. Some cabinets don’t even open. Keys have been lost for years. And I would imagine that the number for the locksmith is locked in one of those cabinets. Because that just seems to be the way it is.
Images are stretched and skewed and colors are accentuated. Even the lack of color is sometimes emphasized. Pictures are not filed like everything else, they float aimlessly, and as if without gravity, around and around in the cluttered space that I have been enslaved for too long.
*************
Not all the visions are real. Some are dreams, some memories, some thoughts, and some nightmares. Stumbling upon such a picture in my mind can often take a moment or two for the filing system to pull up archives on it. “Did that happen?” “Did I see her?” “Where was that?” A series of multiple choice questions frantically surveying database after database on a giant server of jumbled information until I can conclude when, why, how, and where that image came from. If it ever even existed at all.
A giant room filled with computers, files, paperwork, paintings, portraits, and digital images flying fast and slow in circles ‘round the room with no set course over the head of a little girl cowering in the corner. Afraid that the things she sees is all a dream, she prays that her photographic memory will not document the events and be kept with her always. Haunting her. What she does not realize; it’s not a dream. It’s her life. She will forever be trapped in what looks like an abandoned classroom. The door slightly ajar, windows broken, and a damp feeling taking over the air.
She does not dare leave. For fear that what lurks beyond that door is far more devastating that the eternity she has already been sentenced in the messy, chaotic, dark room, eternally lonely.
She curls her knees into her chest and fights with all her might to hold back tears.
The little girl deserted in solitude.
Circle of life.
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I will paint until I die.
I will write until I die.
I will sing until I die.
I will think until I die.
I will feel until I die.
I will breathe until I die.
I will love until I die.
I will mourn until I die.
I will cry until I die.
…Even if only on the inside.
—–
A new series of paintings I just finished.
“Sun.”
“Always.”
“Sets.”
The sound of silence. (An L and Calvin update.)
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As per my lawyer’s request, I have not attempted to contact L or the Ex since she has left my apartment for good. It broke my heart to think that there was a possibility that I could never see Calvin again. After all L and I went through and as much as I didn’t fully trust her again (yet) I was sad to think I might not ever see her again either.
I received a phone call from her (some time ago) shortly after she left and let me keep Calvin for a few short days in her absence. She informed me that she would be by to pick him up… permanently. It took a lot of strength to hold back the tears and lump in my throat until I could hang up with her.
Not more than three days later she called again. I was ecstatic just seeing her name on my caller I.D. I thought for sure she was going to move back in with me and bring Calvin with her. Or maybe ask that he stay with me again. But when I answered, and it was bad news on the other end; Not what I had expected.
“Calvin and I are moving back to Florida.”
“Is there anything I can do to change your mind? All of your friends and family are here. What do you have down in Florida?”
“Well, I’m moving back in with The Ex.”
My heart dropped.
Instant lump in my throat.
Sudden lightheadedness.
Lost.
“Are you guys back together?”
“Well, we decided that we needed to give it another try. Especially since we have a family together and a new addition on the way.” She neglected to tell me that part while she was living with me. I didn’t know she was pregnant again.
“Do you really think that’s the best thing for Calvin? Or you? Or another child?”
“I think it’s going to be good this time. He’s learned his lesson and knows that he can lose me and the kids in an instant if he screws up again. He’s really changed, Dean.”
She sounds so… naïve. Silly, even. The conversation didn’t seem real. Was she delusional? Did she really think someone (with a not-so-trustworthy history) could change so much in such a short amount of time? I suppose it’s possible… but probable? No.
*******
There was something about that conversation that didn’t feel right. It didn’t leave me feeling right. Was I supposed to be happy for her? Was I supposed to believe that he had changed? Changed for her and not for me? Was I supposed to think that Calvin was going to have the great life that he deserved?
I still don’t know what I believe. But I know now what I feel. I am sad for him. And sad that I will not see him grow up.
And I hate the sound of silence more and more every night that I sit at home and hope that he is happy and well-taken care of.
And I wait for the day that we might meet again.
