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.
He and I (we will call him “B”) are somewhat dating now these days. And for the first time in a long time, I’m dating someone exclusively. It’s strange to be back in this place, somewhere I haven’t been a while, and have not even visited since I last left.
Sunday morning I am woken up by his alarm on his cell phone.
“Good morning. I know this is a bit earlier than we talked about, but I figured you didn’t want to miss a run with Doc before we head out. So I set the alarm a little earlier than planned.”
“Thanks.” I managed to whisper while yawning.
Yes, I let him stay the night. That’s the first time I’d let anyone I was interested in stay the night since the Ex moved out. It was nice waking up to his face. I’ll admit that.
We were dressed in less than five minutes and out the door. Doc, B, and I running through Central Park together. The sun was warm, and it didn’t rain like they had predicted. Vendors were selling potted plants and hibiscus trees at discounted prices, and lines were wrapped up and down the paths with last minute Mother’s Day shoppers.
We stopped to get smoothies on the way back to the apartment and discussed the train schedule and the day’s plans and events.
[Side note: I even let him shower and get dressed at my apartment after our run, rather than him going home and coming back. That was a little strange, but I liked it. A lot.]
An hour later, we were out the door again. Two subways and a train ride later and we were on the train platform in Trenton (New Jersey) waiting for our cab. We were going to his parents’ house for brunch where we would meet with his [twin] brother and his girlfriend and the four of us would enjoy a breakfast/lunch buffet accompanied by B’s parents and two grandmothers.
I had met B’s parents before, and B lives with his brother, so I have met him and his girlfriend before too. But I have never met his grandmothers and I have never met his parents while we were considered “dating”. It makes it so much easier meeting the family when you know there is nothing romantic going on between the two of us, now that we’re actually dating, and they know it, it changes everything. And maybe they didn’t think so, or they just didn’t acknowledge it, because everything felt exactly the same. Which was a wonderful relief.
At about 2:45, we were out the door again. One train, two subways, and another train later, and we were now standing at the train platform at Ronkonkoma (Long Island, New York) where we waited for another cab.
And now B was in the same situation as I was earlier in the day. He had met most of my family before, just not when we were dating. But again, no one acted any different. This, I’m sure, was a relief for him as well.
We went to the beach and then we went to the Shrine where I really opened up to him.
I told him why that place was so special to me, what it was like when my mom was sick, and how strange everything felt after she had passed. I told him how I can’t remember my grandparents’ funerals a few shorts months after my mom’s because I was practically a zombie by then. I even told him how I hate myself everyday because I can’t remember her. My own mother. The woman who gave birth to me.
He stayed silent, but supportive. He hugged me, and held my hand, and kissed my cheek.
The train ride home was quiet. I just wondered what he was thinking.
*********************************************************
“Can I stay the night? I love waking up to your face.”
And I let him.
[He] and I grew up together. Well, we didn’t really grow up together. [He] is two years older than me and we didn’t have any classes together in school. [He] lived a few short blocks away from my father’s house and played hockey with my older brother as kids. I always knew who [He] was, but never really talked to [Him]. Until last year….
We ran into each other at one of Long Island’s famous St. Patrick’s Day parades. It had been years since we had even seen each other. We enthusiastically said hello, hugged one another, and shared a green beer. In ten minutes we managed to catch up with each other on our living situations, work standings, and relationship status while our friends impatiently waited for us to rejoin them and the drinking festivities.
[He] was happy to hear that I was no longer with The Ex, explaining that rumors were floating around about The Ex and I and how he had been sleeping with my then best friend… in my apartment… in my bed. And I thought to myself, “Why didn’t any of these rumors happen to make it back to me? Because I sure wish they had.” We laughed at what a loser The Ex is, and [He] told me how much better I could do and more importantly, I SHOULD do. We got one more beer together and parted ways for the rest of the day.
A few days later, at my sister’s for our regular Monday Night Poker Tournament Jon pulled me aside. Forgetting that [He] and Jon work together, Jon told me how [He] had been talking about me all week. Something like this, “Did I tell you I ran into Dean this weekend?”, “Did I mention that I saw Dean?”, “You know Dean broke up with her boyfriend, right?”, “Do you happen to know if she’s dating anyone?”, “Are you and Dean still friends? Could you find out for me if she would like to go out to eat some time?” I was shocked to say the least. Jon confessed that he gave [Him] my number and said that I was expecting [His] call, when in reality I hadn’t known a thing about it.
After months of asking me out to eat, and me declining for various reasons (misc. dates made prior to his and my reconnection, Mr. Perfect, and some other scheduling conflicts) I agreed to hang out casually as just friends and get to know each other. We bar hopped with a circle of his friends. We went out for Happy Hour with a few of mine. We attended a local concert, the beach for a meteor shower, and a few dozen Blockbuster/6-Pack nights.
Ever since [He] and I started getting together (as STRICTLY friends) I have been developing a “thing” for [Him]. Though, I would never admit it, because of how many times I had turned down [His] request for a date.
Tuesday night [He] dropped by unannounced. Which is more than fine with me. (I’m pretty informal myself, and don’t usually have a problem with friends just dropping by to say hello.) [He] had perfect timing, I was just walking from the stove to the kitchen table with a plate full of dinner for myself when [He] knocked on the door.
“What? Did you smell the food?” I teased. [He] laughed and told me [He] was just dropping by to see if I wanted to get a bite to eat AS FRIENDS, grab a movie and have a few beers. Instead, [He] came in, made himself a plate, and we retired to my couch with a few beers for dessert.
A few hours later it was time for [Him] to leave just as my liquid courage was kicking in.
“Hey, I have this birthday party to go to on Saturday for an old friend from high school.”
“That sounds like fun. You should have a good time.”
“Yea. I’m excited to see her. But I know there’s going to be about 15-20 people there also from high school, that no only do I have no desire to see, but I don’t really want to talk to either.” [He] laughed. “So I was wondering… What are you doing on Saturday?”
“Hanging out with you, beautiful.”
I beamed!
“Really? You don’t mind going? You won’t know anyone there I don’t think, and it might be really boring, I mean you don’t have to go.” [He] leaned in and kissed my cheek.
“I would love to go. Honestly. I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight.” [He] winked just as [He] turned and stepped out the door.
…I can’t believe I did that.
And I can’t believe its tomorrow! I’m really excited.
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.
I attended a work Christmas party for Job #2 yesterday evening. It was nice, elegant, fancy even. Everything we as a company, are not. We had rented out a private room at a very nice Italian restaurant feasting on buffet plate after buffet place of the best stuffed shells I have ever had, we drank and we laughed, genuinely having a good time. We had been kicked out of the rented room at 8pm when the party should have ended at 7:00.
Agreeing that it was far too early and we were all much too sober to call it a night, we opted to head over to one of the local pubs for some more drinks and more laughs. Feeling out of place (and not like myself) we entered a small, casual Irish Pub. Me, wearing a backless black sweater, a gray pencil skirt, and black knee-high boots, and many of my coworkers dressed just as “classy” we instantly stood out in a crowd of men and women donning jeans, sweaters, and sneakers. I pretended not to notice how corporate and snobbish we must have appeared to everyone else. (Aside from the three men in suits near the entrance. Whom, I suspected were there on business, or had just finished a meeting of sorts.)
We stood around the bar sharing stories and holiday plans with families. The bartender seemed surprised when we all ordered beer, he even said to me “I almost expected all of the men to order dry martinis and the women, cosmopolitans.”
And I answered with a quick, “Yea, we’re not that type of crowd. We only dress like this when forced, such as the corporate costume party we just came from.”
“Costume party?” He says. I can tell he’s thinking that we’re a little behind for having a Halloween Party and wondering why we all decided to dress similarly. All twenty of us.
“It’s a costume party for us, since 95% of us had to go out and buy something to wear for the Christmas party being that none of really dress this way.” He nods finally understanding what I meant and happily hands me an ice cold Miller High Life in a bottle with a frozen glass, and I just shake my hand at the glass.
“No thanks. I prefer it out of the bottle.” He looked even more surprised.
Having been there for over an hour at this point (and had been drinking for at least five hours beforehand) we’re all getting a little buzzed. Just as I was about to turn to Vicki, a friend of mine, to tell her of the devastatingly handsome man in the suit near the door that I thought she should introduce herself to, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turn to find that man I was just about to mention standing behind me with a glass in one hand and a full beer in the other.
“Dan.” He says as he hands me the MHL.
“Dean.”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t have a name like Tiffany, Stacy, or Mandy. I don’t know why. I just knew it as soon as you walked in the door. Before I forget to mention, I prefer dogs over cats, I’m a baseball fan, I don’t normally dress this stuffy, I’m not married or taken in any way, and I like your ink.” As he points to the medium sized tattoo just between my shoulder blades.
“Good to know. Thanks for the beer by the way.”
“So, what do you do for a living, Dean?”
“Full time office manager and a part time inventory manager.” I hesitate. “And yourself?”
“I work in advertising.”
“Interesting.” At this point, I don’t really know where to take the conversation. So I take the moment of a silence as an opportunity to take a nice, large gulp of my beer and glance around at my friends that I came there with.
“You’re very tough to read, Dean.”
“Really? Why is that?” I ask thinking to myself that I’ve been told this quite often recently.
“I’m not the first person to tell you that, I’m sure. You seem very guarded. I would imagine that if you didn’t want to talk to me at all, you wouldn’t. Because you seem very straight forward. But you also don’t make many attempts to get to know people better, and don’t always like the feeling you get when others try to get to know you.”
“Let me guess, you took some psychology classes in college.”
“Wrong. I never went to college. Nor did I ever see a psychologist, which is what you were thinking next. I am also not related to one. But I like to think that I’m a pretty good judge of character and a master at reading people. But what drew me over to you, other than you’re being stunning, is the fact that I couldn’t sum you up into any words whereas I can usually do that about a person right away. Without even talking to them.”
“So you’re a master at assuming you know people?” It took all of my energy not to roll my eyes at him.
“Ah! As much as you would love to just write me off here and now, you know that you’re still intrigued. And no, I don’t assume. Faces tell everything. More specifically, the eyes. Your eyes on the other hand, are different.”
“You’re not always right; I can assure you of that. And what makes my eyes so different?”
“They are sad. They don’t appear sad, though. There’s a difference. Someone wouldn’t look at you and think that you’ve been crying or you just got some bad news. You have not always been treated the way you should have, you have not necessarily been abandoned, though you do feel that way sometimes. And you will never let go of your past. Intrigued?”
“Not yet.”
“I haven’t given you anything worth looking into yet?”
“Ehh. Not really.” I wasn’t completely lying, but I wasn’t completely telling the truth either.
“Well, I’m a single dad with a three year old son that lives with me full time. I left everyone and everything I know to make a better life for my son. He’s the most important thing in the world to me. I hate my job but it pays me well enough to give him the things that he needs in his life. I don’t generally trust people until I’ve gotten to know them really well. That can take years. I have never been in love, or married. And I want to get to know you better.”
I am usually so quick to dismiss people. And I don’t really know why. But I decided to give him a chance. We may not get married, we may not even date. But to enjoy someone else’s company and get to know people better without passing judgment is a very important part of life. And I think I owed it to Dan and to myself to just let the night play out and see where things went.
We talked about his son and why it is that I am single. I told him why I think I am, and then he gave me his own interpretation as to why I am. We discussed the annoyance of corporate holiday functions and he guessed what my childhood was like. He mentioned numerous times that he can tell I’m smart, though I didn’t say much, and wished to know why it is that I can be so closed sometimes. He wanted to know what he could do to open me up and pick my brain. But I didn’t offer much. Because I just don’t know how to.
We exchanged numbers after almost four hours of talking and telling jokes. And that was enough for me. Because I don’t have any expectations for the future, not in terms of relationships or relationship status.
(Side Note: Dan is very sweet, we have a lot in common, and we’re having drinks on Wednesday night. But as friends. Because neither of us need anything more than that right now.)
She frantically types on her laptop. Her fingers seem cartoon-like they’re moving so fast. Her face is serious, and her eyes never leave the computer screen. Handsome men walk past her, sometimes twice each in hopes of catching her eye. But her eyes never move. They hardly even blink. One man even gets brave enough to interrupt her.
“Excuse me? May I have the sugar?” He motions towards the community sugar pourer. He is hoping for more than just the sugar pourer. He yearns for the eye contact, a half smile/smirk even, and an introduction would be ideal.
“Yea, no problem.” She reaches behind her laptop, picks up the sugar pourer and hands it to the gentleman without once looking away from what she’s working on. In fact, she’s still typing just as fast, but with only one hand now.
He hesitates. “Thanks.” She doesn’t acknowledge his thanks or his presence. He looks crushed. And I wonder, why didn’t he ask for the sugar on my table? It’s not that I wanted him to, but I thought it was strange that she was clearly working hard on something and he had no problem interrupting her, and yet he didn’t even notice that I was in the room, and reading leisurely with an unused sugar pourer on my table as well.
Perhaps it is because I do not have long blonde hair as she did. Or that my eyes are not ice blue. Maybe I don’t appear as important as she does since I am not typing on a laptop on my coffee break as she appears to be doing. Maybe I don’t look single, though I am. Is it because I was not wearing any make-up? My suit was not as expensive as hers? Maybe it’s because my heels were only three and a half inches tall as opposed to her four inch heels.
King walks in and we share less than ten minutes of small talk before I ask him why he thinks that man didn’t ask me for the sugar. I love to know another person’s point of view and why it is that men do the things that they do. And King willingly shares his opinion.
“Dean, you have to understand that you’re not like most women.” He tells me something that I already know, so I just nod and await to hear more. “Men are very simple creatures.” I would love to agree whole-heartedly but something inside me tells me it’s not as simple as that, that there’s more to men than people, even other men, give them credit for. And still, he continues. “You are not what men would consider approachable.” I didn’t know how to take that. Was I being complimented or insulted?
“I don’t understand. I thought I was easier for men to approach because I am not like most women.”
“As much as men don’t want to admit it, they are instantly attracted to the women who appear to be high maintenance. But in the end there’s nothing there other than lust. You’re the kind of woman men can fall in love with. Because if men were given the opportunity to build their perfect woman, you would be it. You’re beautiful, and not the typical kind of beautiful. You’re the girl next door kind of beautiful but with the edge that men love. You have a fantastic sense of humor and a heart made of gold. You’re loyal, adventurous, and open-minded. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, incredibly talented and have so much potential.” He pauses, and I think it’s because he noticed that I blushed. “I just mean that you’re the kind of girl that men would love to bring home to Mom and marry, but someone to have fun with too. You’re the best friend and the lover, that’s rare. You look just as sexy in a short, little cocktail dress as you do in jeans, a hoodie, and a baseball cap.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’.”
“Well, there is one. Like I said, you don’t appear to be high maintenance. Your nails are nice, but one solid color and they’re your’s. You don’t have highlights in your hair and you have no make-up on. Now, you don’t need it, but it sends a different kind of message to men. She’s over there typing like a madman, and while I don’t know her, I am willing to bet my life on it, that she has nothing more important to say than you do. That she’s probably not even half as smart or funny as you are. That she’s not as interesting or caring as you. And quite honestly, Dean, you’re sitting in a coffee house alone drinking a black tea with nothing in it reading the New York Times in a pant suit. I must say, that is a beautiful set though. Ann Taylor?”
“Yes. On sale!”
“I love it. I always tell you that winter white is your color; you need more of it in your wardrobe. Anyway, see how she’s wearing a pink suit? Much more feminine. Not that anything about your suit is masculine, because there isn’t. And actually, though she’s wearing a skirt and you’re wearing pants, you look better in your suit than she does in hers. I can tell she got hers on sale too, and it’s not the right size or a flattering cut on her. But most men don’t look into the clothes as much as I do. Her make-up is way too heavy and her hair needs to be dyed again if she wants to keep it blonde. Dark roots aren’t ‘in’ anymore. Again, there are only about 2% of straight men who notice those things. Including myself.”
I know that if I let him, he could go on forever. Since I don’t really have anything important to share with him during this lunch, I will just let him continue enjoying my tea and taking it all in.
“I know that you love tea and are not a coffee drinker. You love the Times and hate the Post. You would NEVER dye your hair blonde and wouldn’t dream of ordering a drink that takes 20 minutes to say. And because you’re sitting alone in a pant suit, you scream ‘feminist’.”
I am not a feminist. And if I were, there would be nothing wrong with it except that the average New York male feels threatened by them. And for that, I am come across as unapproachable. Especially when in work clothes. In jeans, a tee shirt, and flip flops, it would be a different story.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover” people will tell you. And I will tell you “Don’t judge a person by their drink of choice, reading material, and hair color.”
I was on the subway. The dreaded F train. I don’t know what it is about the F train, I just never really want to take it. Nevertheless, I was on the F and sitting across from a couple. Now, I know it’s not polite to stare, so I didn’t, even though I love to people watch. I glanced in their direction for what felt like the shortest second known to mankind.
Later I found myself walking through Union Square alone. I was utilizing my photographic memory and recalling just how that couple looked during that moment in time on the F train.
He had thin brown hair that was well past his shoulders. It was straight but somehow messy at the same time. He wore jeans that were tight and ripped in the knees with black Converse sneakers that I haven’t seen on anyone in years. His tee shirt was old, faded, and had the Live logo in the middle. He looked like someone who would listen to Live. Without standing up, I could tell that he was most likely a foot or more taller than she.
Her hair was black. It was pulled back into a messy bun with a few strands sticking out here and there with large waves in them. I could tell that her hair was long, but not much longer than his. The only make-up she wore was on her eyes and it was very dark and very heavy. But still, her brown eyes looked big and wide and taking everything in. Her eyes were young. Not like his.
Her top was tight, but not very revealing. She wore a short, black and red skirt that showed her black lace stockings leading down to where her black platform boots started, just under the knee. Her legs were draped over his lap and she was childishly tapping her right foot while gabbing on and on about the most recent cartoons she had seen.
He appeared to be about 20-25 years older than her. You could see it in his pale skin and the way that he smiled. She talked and talked while he played with the hair on the back of her neck. She thought he was listening. I know he was undressing her with his mind. Once in a while he would interrupt her with a kiss. She never minded.
She was happy. You could see it in her eyes. She was thinking about the future. About tomorrow. About ten years from now. What THEY would be doing. And where THEY would be living. She adored him and admired him, and her soul was bare and visible in that naïve face. She would smile wide and stare at his face. She was wondering what her family would think of him. And how she couldn’t wait for her friends to meet him. Their relationship was still new, but she was so excited. She was so in love. She hasn’t admitted it to herself yet, but I knew she was in love.
He was looking at her lips. And at her neck. And at her exposed thighs. He never looked her in the eye. He grinned. It was different than a smile. His grin was mischievous and alarming. He didn’t care what she had to say, he wasn’t listening to her anyway. In fact, he wished she would stop talking and start kissing him.
But he was thinking about the future too. He was thinking about what would happen when the subway stopped and they got off. He wondered what color her underwear was. And he thought about what the rest of the night would be like. He never thought about the next day, or the next week, or the next year. Not as she has. Only his immediate future thoughts involved her.
And I felt apologetic for her. She was blind to it all.
“I am drawn to you.” He said. His face was serious. He meant what he said. He kissed me. And it was wonderful.
But I laughed. “Drawn to me?” I thought. The idea of ANYONE being drawn to me was just down-right ridiculous I thought. After I let out a small giggle, he looked at me. “What?” He said while looking into my eyes so deeply, I thought for sure he was looking at a roadmap of my brain and reading my thoughts.
“Nothing.” I whispered while leaning in to steal a kiss. He made that face. The one I love. He has this half-smile smirk thing that I melt just thinking about. It says that he’s thinking something, oh how I wish I knew what that something was. After seeing that face, I had to steal just one more kiss.
We took trains from different directions to meet each other half-way and get some drinks and just enjoy each other’s company for a few hours; Mr. Unrealistic and I. After three bars, a few drinks, and more laughs than I can count, we walked and sat in the park. He put his arm around me and we discussed art, religion, politics, family, and an abundance of funny, childhood stories.
We walked and talked and drank and laughed for over eight hours. And it was time to head home. I let him leave first, because I knew it would be easier walking away after saying goodbye than it would be to leave him behind.
We kissed one last time. “I really had a great time. Please tell me I’ll see you soon?” Our faces were close and we were holding hands at our sides. He rested his forehead against mine.
“Yes” I whispered with closed eyes.
I smiled the whole way home.
I know this. And I’m sorry!
Things have been… Well… Hectic to say the least.
Work is crazy right now. (Which is odd, because this is typically the slow time of year for us.) I got a second job. An overnight job. Restocking a retail store while they’re closed. Sounds lame, right? Well, it kind of is. And the money is shit. But you know what? It’s nice to have something to do in the middle of the night when I would normally being walking, reading, painting, writing, and driving myself mad by overthinking every single thing that happens on a day-to-day basis.
So I work Monday through Friday from 9:00am-5:00pm at my “full-time” job. And then I work 10:00pm-6:00am four nights a week at my “other job”. Interesting huh? And when I’m not working, or not working, I am babysitting my handsome nephew, or shopping with my sister for wedding gowns, brides’ maid dresses, invitations, flowers, favors, place card holders, centerpieces, bands (the musical kind, not the jewelery kind), and everything else you can imagine that a bride would need for her wedding. Which, by the way is New Year’s Eve. THIS New Year’s Eve. Talk about cutting it down to the wire.
Great Guy Friend confessed his love for me this week. Also, MySpace Man calls me almost everyday. Not to mention CC Guy is still waiting for me to “settle down” with him, and him alone.
And here’s where I’m at…
Great Guy Friend and I should just be friends. It’s safe.
MySpace Man is so intriguing and interesting and I want to know everything I can about him.
And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I do have a crush on CC Guy, but we would never work as a couple.
When did things get so complicated?
“You don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to be miserable.”
“But, I’m not miserable.”
“Fine. Well, then you don’t have to be alone.”
He is smart. The kind of smart that makes me feel stupid. The first person to ever make me feel stupid. He can talk about nuclear physics, and debate me on politics, and discuss the importance of 17th century Greek statues. And sometimes I feel like he can read my mind.
He makes me laugh. He can tickle me until I have tears in my eyes, or tell me funny stories about things he did when he visited his Grandfather in Texas. He can tell jokes and improv and put on a show. He can mimic his family members and great comedians and leave me in stitches.
He can listen to me so well that I feel like he feels what I’m saying more than he can actually hear it. When he smiles, I know he means it. When he cries I know it’s because he wishes I didn’t have to. And when he laughs, he laughs with his whole soul. And I laugh with him. I love to laugh with him.
He paints beautiful artwork so effortlessly. He says it’s what he loves, but thinks he’s no good. He can paint a sky so perfect that if it were real, I would jump up into it wishing that I were moving in slow motion. He can paint a field so beautiful, that I can smell the grass and feel the breeze. And sometimes he can paint a woman so sad and so beautifully that I feel like I know her, I know her better than myself. And I know why she’s sad. And it makes me sad too.
That woman he paints is me. And it’s only when you look closely that you can see that I am sad in this painting. Because I am a modern day Mona Lisa for him. She smiles, and no one knows why. Because she’s not fully smiling.
In this painting I am smiling like her. Like Mona Lisa. But when you look into my eyes, you can see pain. And fear. And endless amounts of sadness. And he says this is what he sees whenever he sees me. Even when I am smiling. And even when I’m laughing. And I start to cry.
But these tears are happy ones. Because he understands why I am sad and I don’t have to force myself to say it. He knows that my heart is broken, and he tells me that his heart is broken too. But his is broken because he knows mine is. And he doesn’t know what to do to fix it.
He holds my hand in his, and puts his other hand around the back of my neck. We look each other in the eye, and for the first time in a long time, I knew that he was reading my mind.
“I love you.” He whispers with his forehead now resting on mine. And then he gave me the most passionate, loving, caring, and understanding kiss I have had in my entire life.
But he is not realistic.
