The Marrying Kind
Posted on | April 28, 2012 | No Comments
I was home alone when he knocked. How he got the address, I had no idea – I have, after all, moved twice since we last saw each other.
I don’t remember what I said about me. I gave him a tour of the apartment. I even let him peek into my roommates’ bedrooms. Then, I smoothed my hand over our black faux leather living room sofa and invited him to share what he’d been up since we last saw each other almost six years ago.
I already knew some of the bits. Where he was living, what he was doing. Through Facebook, mutual friends, and a newsletter he regularly sends out which he subscribed me to (and from which I haven’t had the heart to ‘unsubscribe’). His adult accomplishments flashed up behind him like a slideshow as he talked. I braced myself for the reveal of the ‘marriage’ milestone he hit two years ago, making a point of oops, ha ha ‘not noticing’ his left hand until he mentioned his wife. I reacted with surprise and supportive congratulations.
As he wrapped up, a final slide flashed in the background. It was a teaser into his future. ‘2013: KIDS,’ it said. It lingered there, large and matter-of-fact, muting out all the words he was speaking.
At that moment I knew I had to get him out of the house as quickly and hospitably as possible so I could be alone and hyperventilate in peace.
I know it’s cliché to say “then I woke up” but is it still cliché if it’s true?
***
The last time he visited me, I wasn’t home. I was seven blocks away at a coffee shop. Reading and journaling and drinking tea and eating red velvet cake.
Probably listening to The Blow and probably my phone was on silent – which is why I missed the call from my roommate telling me he stopped by. At that point, we no longer had each other’s numbers. The event was a foregone conclusion.
***
When we were still together and before I thought I had maternal instincts whatsoever, he told me I would be a good mother. I looked at him like he was crazy. You’ve never seen how I am with kids because I don’t like to put myself in situations where I have to be around kids, so what do you know? my twenty-three year old self demanded. But because I was vain and he was incredibly good looking, I also secretly thought if he wants to unleash our beautiful Eurasian babies on the world, so be it.
And yes, I thought he would be a good father.
Even after we broke up, he persisted. “If you’re thirty and single and you want kids, my offer stands,” he said. It sounded like a line from a cheesy romantic comedy except the roles were reversed. I might have even said so.
“I’d still the father of your children. I could still see having a family with you,” he said. “I’m serious.”
I am twenty-nine now and you are married, I want to say to his younger self.
I am twenty-nine now and you are married.
Your argument is invalid.
The Tinman of Oz
Posted on | April 17, 2012 | No Comments
I haven’t written lately because I like to keep my pity parties solo affairs. I just didn’t expect the party to last so long. Did I accidentally schedule it as a recurring or ongoing event in my internal calendar? Dammit. And now it appears the ‘ctrl’and ‘z’ buttons in my brain are missing. I can’t undo and I don’t know when this appointment ends.
A friend recently said he hated reading my sadsack entries.
Come on, he said, playful slug on the shoulder. You are so much more than that, you are better than that.
So I wait for me to be more, to be better.
Now I want to tell him
News flash!
.
Spoiler alert!
.
.
.
Actually, LOL, I’m not.
So now I’m writing anyway.
Past performance does not predict future results.
(My) Turns
Posted on | March 22, 2012 | No Comments
My much belated contribution to friend Davi Russo‘s Turns Exhibit and Monograph published last year. A sign post of experiences and adventures to come.
First Steps
Posted on | February 16, 2012 | No Comments
On the daily pilgrimage for my morning soy latte today, I leaned into a metta (lovingkindness) meditation.
Lately my meditation practice has been inconsistent…and metta the hardest for me to do. It consists of tuning into the invisible, universal feedback loop of forgiveness, compassion, love, and understanding. With each inhale you receive, with each exhale you give. In theory it sounds like such a beautiful exercise. In reality, however, whenever I practice, I feel like Ben Franklin flying a kite and key on a cloudless day. I suppose there is always a possibility I’ll be struck with electricity…but I wouldn’t bet on it. In fact, often in these moments I feel like the Loneliest Empathetic Person in the World. I am trying my best to be a space for love while so keenly aware of how rare it strikes.
Yet, of its own will, metta came to me today. It shone on me like an unexpected spotlight and for that brief moment, it (thankfully) wouldn’t let me run away. For that brief inexplicable moment, I felt like I could just belong without my near constant longing to belong.
To say I haven’t had faith in myself lately is an understatement.
But now I am at least beginning to have a little faith in the faith others seem to have me.
Baby steps.
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