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/
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…
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.
…In A Perfect World.
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But she wasn’t always strong. She had to learn how to be strong. Because she knew no one would or could be strong enough for her. They never even offered. They didn’t even try. Just pushed her aside and left her to fend for herself. The poor little thing.
But don’t call her that. Not now. Don’t feel sorry for her! Don’t pity her or shed tears on her behalf. Because it’s too little, too late. She has been locked away in her own mind all alone. Where she was cornered and abused by monsters and demons. They tried to bring her down, make her into nothing. And keep her from moving on. And yet, she still closed herself up and stayed trapped in that crazy head of hers. And that’s the way she likes it. Because that’s all she’s ever known.
********
So when she breaks down and cries, it’s monumental. Because she doesn’t often let herself cry. Because they were not there to comfort her before, so they won’t be there now. Because while she doesn’t think other people are weak for crying, she thinks she is if she does it. Because no good can come from tears. Just dried up eyes, running noses, and wasted energy.
So when she pushes you away (if she hasn’t already, she will) it’s because she’s so scared she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. Because she knows if she doesn’t push you away she will have to open up to you otherwise. And that’s not something she likes to do. Because that means that you see it all, hear it all, know it all. The good and the bad. The logic and the chaos. And she fears that there’s more bad than good.
And pushing you away before you walk away hurts a lot less in the end.
Because walking away is sometimes the worst thing you can do to her. Because it’s all too familiar. Too familiar to that little girl inside who will secretly never get over it. Something she wishes she never experienced. But has experienced it more times than she can count. And she doesn’t know how many more times she can take of it. Before she loses it. Loses it all. And really can’t go on anymore.
Walking away from her and leaving her behind helps her justify the act of pushing people away. An art she has mastered over the years. Something she does not take pride in, will not always admit, but a crime she commits on a regular basis. Like clockwork. Yea, she’s that predictable.
Don’t feel sorry for her! She doesn’t need it. It will get her nowhere. She has made it this far without your pity and sympathy. And she will make it even further. Just to prove to them how strong she is. How much she has done, can do, and will do all on her own.
*******
Sometimes she feels comfortable in her own skin. Enough to admit this major flaw. (And other flaws. Because she has many.) Sometimes she’s sick of running and hiding from people who want to be there for her. She gets tired of pushing people away and feeling alone.
And in a certain world, a perfect one, she feels naked bearing her heart and soul on the table but not too naked where she needs to run away.
The Anti-Shoe.
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The grass blades tickle between my toes and remind of what it was like to be a kid and carefree. Sometimes they’re cold and wet and I imagine that walking on clouds wouldn’t feel much different.
The streets are flat and hot and warm my entire body with every single step sending chills up and down my spine as my feet adjust to the new temperature. What I love more than walking on a warm street is running down it. It’s almost therapeutic for me.
Something magical happens when I wander the sandy beaches. My feet pressing firmly into the soft, tiny grains of sand with hints of broken shells scattered about sometimes digging into the bottoms of my heels reminding me that not everything is perfect, not even the beach, but it is all stunning. Sharp shells or not.
*******
Months ago, as I was departing a birthday party some twenty blocks from my apartment I commented to a friend how much my shoes were killing my feet. I mentioned that I was looking forward to just taking my shoes off, letting my feet breathe, relax, and enjoy the night as much as I was.
“The sacrifices we make for fashion” was her response. It didn’t make sense to me. I want to feel beautiful, but I want my soul to feel beautiful too. And bare feet do that for me. As she and I were headed towards the door, accompanying each other on a walk to the nearest subway I removed my strappy heels, the ones I bought specifically for that dress, because they belonged together in a world where shoes and clothes should be married for all eternity. Fashion soul-mates.
“You’re crazy! You can’t walk through the upper east side barefoot. You have no idea what you might step on.” And she was right. There was no telling what objects my feet might encounter on the busy sidewalks of Manhattan (both visible and undetectable). But as dangerous as it was, I couldn’t resist the temptation to allow myself to feel free.
As we made our way the four and half blocks to the nearest subway I smiled at the thought of the cool, cement sidewalk my bare feet were pounding against. Every step was more refreshing than the last and I wished that my journey could go on forever. Passing hundreds of other pedestrians, not one even batted an eye as my shoeless feet strolled down avenue after avenue. My friend, on the other hand, couldn’t help but shake her head at what she perceived as insanity. (I don’t necessarily blame her. But I did it nonetheless.)
Feeling the sandpaper grips on the balls of my feet as I made my way down the subway staircase I wondered what the subway floors would feel like. Anxious to learn if it would be cold or warm, I lightly jogged down the steps and leaped onto the platform.
The floor was cold and smooth and I found myself lost in thought. Was it from the air conditioning that was pumping to relieve it’s passengers from the heat that suffocated the city on that still August night?
*******
I smiled serenely the whole way home.
Barefoot is bliss.
–Note–
It was not the safest thing I have done in my life. And I do not recommend it. I as lucky enough to make it home fungus and disease-free. Please do not attempt.
Why Mr. Unrealistic IS Mr. Unrealistic.
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-He lived too far away. And then he moved. And now he lives even further away.
-He is older than me. By ten years. Which doesn’t bother either of us, but I know it will bother my sometimes protective brother, father, brother-in-laws, cousins, uncles, and friends.
-He’s smart, funny, spontaneous, adventurous, caring, sensitive, artistic, creative, happy, trusting, trustworthy, honest, and engaging. Basically, going back to point #1. Too good to be true.
**************************
I thought I was going to be able to come up with more than this. And I cannot. Maybe there isn’t anymore? Maybe he’s not as unrealistic as I think he is. Maybe he’s just what I need, what we both need. And maybe I shouldn’t be scared to let people in anymore. Maybe I should let him be mine, and mine his. And maybe I should stop thinking of him as Mr. Unrealistic and starting thinking of him as Mr. Perfect. Because that’s really what he is when all is said and done.
Because he makes me smile.
And he cares about me.
We can talk about anything and everything.
For hours.
He holds me whenever he has the chance.
Calls me to say hello and that he was thinking of me.
Takes pictures of himself making funny faces and sends them to me.
Just to know that I smiled that day.
Tells me jokes just to hear me laugh.
Makes me buy a Christmas tree.
And helps me decorate it.
Loves to sit on my couch and drink hot chocolate with me.
He loves the sound of my fingers typing and the faces I make when working on my book.
Because he says he can really hear me think when I do that.
And to him, it’s beautiful.
Because he will not see his family, just to spend Christmas with me.
And I won’t let him.
(Even though I want to…)
Because family is important.
And because he tells me he’s going to marry me someday.
And that he’s never felt that way about anyone before.
And he’s already told everyone that.
Even though most of them have never met me.
He says they know he means it.
Because he does.
And even if he doesn’t mean it, it still makes me smile.
And that’s enough for me.
For now.
**************************
Mr. Perfect.
Perfect.
Freedom.
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Feeling disconnected from everyone and everything I opted to walk to work last night. It was cold, one of the coldest nights we’ve had. But it was breathtaking nonetheless. 28 blocks later I found myself at the doors of job #2. I wished that I could turn back time and allow myself another hour to walk. I felt refreshed, but craved more. Everything needed it. My soul, my thoughts, and even the lonely streets enjoyed my company and wished that I would stay a little while longer.
I was quiet all night at work, just thinking to myself. I had my headphones on for the entire ten hour shift. They know that means I don’t want to be interrupted. And they agreed. Without saying a word about it. Thoughts were moving slowly at one point, cohesive, clear, and heavy. But then they were rampant, speeding in and out of my head as though on an uncontrollable racetrack, a course with no speed limit and no signs of slowing down. I felt anxious and out of control. Soon my heart started racing, I couldn’t focus my attention on anything and I had the shakes.
I bum a smoke from my lead stock employee who, in a thick Irish accent says to me, “Dean! I thought you gave up fags!” I don’t even answer him, just take the cigarette out of his hand and walk out the emergency exit to the roof.
I have been working here for years, and this is my first time smoking a cigarette on the roof. But it was beautiful and I just wanted to feel free! And I don’t know what made me think of it, but the roof seemed like the only “free” place I could have been just then. And I felt alive. I can’t describe it.
Sounds were muted. Wind was strong. Air was clear. Lights were dimmed. And people seemed small and far away. Which is just what I needed. The cigarette felt heavenly. Every deep breath I took seemed to calm my nervous and make things feel as though they were alright. And I wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything it the world.
…And things are alright.
