re: the muppets (part five)
Here's the next installment of my lengthy tome. Please click here for Parts One through Four.
She called me Sunday night to discuss our plans for Monday. Once again we spoke for hours on the phone. And once again we discussed the butterflies we both inspired.
We walked around the corner into Bryant Park. I informed her about the outdoor movies during the summer and the meat market atmosphere during lunch on sunny days. I also told her to be on the lookout for rats.
And then I instructed her to look up. There's a canopy of trees around the perimeter of the park. As tall as the trees are, they are positively dwarfed by the surrounding towering skyscrapers. At night, it's just an amazing visual contrast and I wanted her to see it.
We honestly had not stopped twittering and chatting all evening. But suddenly, in the park, we got stuck in a silent moment. We would later learn that the very same thought dawned on us at the same time: "Damn, this is romantic."
I felt like I was on a date. If I was a guy, I would have leaned in and kissed her long and hard. But it wasn't a date. And I wasn't a guy. And I wasn't a lesbian. Nor was she. We couldn't kiss.
She was engaged in her own silent struggle. The tension grew thicker and more obvious. All I could do was look at my feet, over her shoulder, up at the sky, back at my feet, behind me, etc. And then she spoke.
At one point, she became very animated when telling me a story. Her hands whipped around for emphasis. During one fit of punctuation, she accidentally caught my hand with her fingernail and scratched the area near my thumb. She immediately clutched my hand and said, "Oh my God! I'm so sorry. Does it hurt?"
I could have been hemorrhaging and wouldn't have even noticed. She was holding my hand! I didn't want her to let go but "common sense" prevailed and I extracted my hand from her gentle grip and said, "No, it's totally fine. See? No mark."
And now I was really pressing my luck with the train schedule so I said goodbye and we hugged.
And then another conversation started so I said another goodbye and then we hugged again.
And again and again. And maybe once more for good measure. I knew it could go on all night so I said, "Okay, that's it. I really have to go. Have a safe trip home. Call me when you're back!" I blew her a kiss, turned around and hustled down 46th Street.
I missed her already.
Our emails, IMs and phone calls grew more intimate after that trip. The number of gifts increased. It had all the earmarks of a full-fledged relationship. Except it wasn't.
She and her boyfriend had broken up. I wasn't necessarily happy about that because I didn't want to see her unhappy but every mention of his name when they were together cut into my heart. And when I mentioned my dating life to her, she grew agitated and a bit huffy and wanted to know details. Jealousy like this doesn't exist in a "normal" friendship so what were we exactly?
As confused as I was by this whole thing, my confidence continued to grow by leaps and bounds. I found myself asking questions of her and making statements that were so uncharacteristic of me. The phone soon became the preferred method of contact. Hanging up took hours. My phone bills were astronomical but I did not care.
Our conversations became more and more flirty.
We treated our birthdays like federal holidays. We engaged in tremendous fan fare. For her 19th birthday, I sent her a care package teeming with gifts. One of the items was a journal. I like to christen journals before I give them as gifts so I wrote a story on the first page. Basically, it was about something beautiful that grew and eclipsed the sadness in a dark, dreary place.
She cried while she thanked me during our scheduled birthday call. She couldn't believe how much stuff I sent and how personal it all was. But I still had one more gift up my sleeve. Hours later, when we were both delirious and exhausted and in the lengthy process of saying goodnight, I delivered it.
She gasped and stammered and gasped again. Her exhaustion wore off. She was now completely wired and practically screamed "I love you too" into the phone. It was her favorite birthday present from me by far.
And we continued in this blissful vein for months but there was a painful undercurrent of longing too. I grew increasingly dissatisfied with the platonic declarations of love and dead-end flirting. One night, in particular, I was in no mood to be goofy. Our conversation took a really intense turn and I started shaking like a leaf.
Our unofficial courtship followed this frustrating and bipolar course for months. After one really revealing and intimate phone call, it seemed that we were finally on our way to being a real couple, religion, family and friends be damned.
The next day, she wrote me an email saying we had to stop. She claimed responsibility for her part in turning our friendship into a relationship but insisted that it wasn't right. It wasn't what was in store for us. It couldn't be.
I was already having a bad day. Nothing in particular happened but I had an emotional shift at some point. I knew something was wrong. I didn't know what exactly but I had a distinct nagging feeling following me. I read her email and my heart just fell. I didn't know what to think or say first. There was so much clutter in my head. I simply couldn't deal with it then so I replied, "I need time to think. I'll write to you soon."
I stayed offline that night on purpose because I didn't want to chat with her. I was annoyed, agitated and frustrated. I was pissed at myself for letting this insane relationship get to this point. I shouldn't have let it escalate. I defaulted to self-preservation mode. I didn't want to let her see me hurt. I borrowed from my real-life playbook where I excelled at pretending things didn't matter.
A day or two later, I started writing a breezy response stating that I agreed with her. I was about two sentences in when I decided that no, this would not do. I didn't agree with her. And I knew deep down that she didn't really feel that way either. She was so worried about what other people would think. And so was I! I was never one to take such risks but the idea of conceding some of our hard-fought ground was just out of the question. I couldn't dial back my feelings and redefine our friendship. Not now.
I already went through the whole charade of hiding my feelings for her. I put on a smile whenever she told me about her boyfriend. I pretended to be supportive and gave her advice when they had problems. And it pained and drained me to do so. And she pouted her way through my tales of nights out with the cute doctor boys. Sharing wasn't fun for either of us. We already admitted to each other how painful it was. I refused to go back there.
So, for the first time in the history of me, I laid out all of my feelings. All of them. Bare. I told her I couldn't turn back. I'm not really one for ultimatums but I needed all or nothing. If she couldn't give me all, then she needed to leave me alone. Maybe eventually I'd bounce back and not care but right then, right there, it was impossible. I had come too far.
My response scared the shit out of her. The idea that I'd box her out didn't occur to her. She wrote, "I'm not sure you understand. Will you be home later? I want to call you. I love you."
I had already begun building up a wall to keep her out but I'd at least give her a chance to explain herself. I replied with a terse "Yeah, I'll be here" and spent the rest of the night dreading the call.
The beginning of the conversation was all mindless small talk. I refused to let it go any deeper than that. I had to protect myself, after all. I knew she was trying to find an "in" but I was blocking all of her shots. I was cordial but unwavering in my desire to systematically freeze her out. I planned on talking no more than 30 minutes so I started to wrap up the call:
We talked all night. By the morning, it was official: I had my first girlfriend.
>> Go to Part Six
-- Part One
-- Part Two
-- Part Three
-- Part Four
~ Part Five~
She called me Sunday night to discuss our plans for Monday. Once again we spoke for hours on the phone. And once again we discussed the butterflies we both inspired.
"Why is that?"She picked me up from work on Monday and we grabbed some coffee and then walked for blocks talking. We were both still jittery but it was not nearly as bad as our previous two meetings. We relaxed a bit and even managed to goof around and tease each other. For example, I chose to act out a scene from the movie Annie as we neared the New York Public Library. I completely took her by surprise when I jumped up on the steps, assumed the identity of one of the orphans and exclaimed, "Hey look! There's Sandy!" It took her a second but she got the reference and giggled and shook her head at my lunacy.
"I don't know! We're so comfortable with each other here but when we come face-to-face, forget about it! It's nuts."
"Okay, let's not act like that tomorrow. Okay?"
"Okay. Pinky promise?"
"Pinky promise."
We walked around the corner into Bryant Park. I informed her about the outdoor movies during the summer and the meat market atmosphere during lunch on sunny days. I also told her to be on the lookout for rats.
And then I instructed her to look up. There's a canopy of trees around the perimeter of the park. As tall as the trees are, they are positively dwarfed by the surrounding towering skyscrapers. At night, it's just an amazing visual contrast and I wanted her to see it.
We honestly had not stopped twittering and chatting all evening. But suddenly, in the park, we got stuck in a silent moment. We would later learn that the very same thought dawned on us at the same time: "Damn, this is romantic."
I felt like I was on a date. If I was a guy, I would have leaned in and kissed her long and hard. But it wasn't a date. And I wasn't a guy. And I wasn't a lesbian. Nor was she. We couldn't kiss.
She was engaged in her own silent struggle. The tension grew thicker and more obvious. All I could do was look at my feet, over her shoulder, up at the sky, back at my feet, behind me, etc. And then she spoke.
"Hey, look at my keyring. Isn't it cool?" she said after fishing around in her pocket and producing a set of keys.She knew it was a rather weak diversion but it still did the trick. I smiled out of both amusement and gratitude.
"Uh, yeah. Sure. Very nice."
"I need to catch a train soon. Why don't I walk you back to your hotel?"She was staying in a small hotel off Ninth Avenue. We reached the front door but I still wasn't ready to leave. So we talked and talked and talked. My window of opportunity to make my train was dwindling but every time I turned to go, we both figured out a way to keep me there. Stalling was never so enjoyable.
"You sure you don't mind? I don't want to make you go out of your way."
"No, I've got time. Plus, I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."
"Good. I was hoping you'd say that."
At one point, she became very animated when telling me a story. Her hands whipped around for emphasis. During one fit of punctuation, she accidentally caught my hand with her fingernail and scratched the area near my thumb. She immediately clutched my hand and said, "Oh my God! I'm so sorry. Does it hurt?"
I could have been hemorrhaging and wouldn't have even noticed. She was holding my hand! I didn't want her to let go but "common sense" prevailed and I extracted my hand from her gentle grip and said, "No, it's totally fine. See? No mark."
And now I was really pressing my luck with the train schedule so I said goodbye and we hugged.
And then another conversation started so I said another goodbye and then we hugged again.
And again and again. And maybe once more for good measure. I knew it could go on all night so I said, "Okay, that's it. I really have to go. Have a safe trip home. Call me when you're back!" I blew her a kiss, turned around and hustled down 46th Street.
I missed her already.
Our emails, IMs and phone calls grew more intimate after that trip. The number of gifts increased. It had all the earmarks of a full-fledged relationship. Except it wasn't.
She and her boyfriend had broken up. I wasn't necessarily happy about that because I didn't want to see her unhappy but every mention of his name when they were together cut into my heart. And when I mentioned my dating life to her, she grew agitated and a bit huffy and wanted to know details. Jealousy like this doesn't exist in a "normal" friendship so what were we exactly?
As confused as I was by this whole thing, my confidence continued to grow by leaps and bounds. I found myself asking questions of her and making statements that were so uncharacteristic of me. The phone soon became the preferred method of contact. Hanging up took hours. My phone bills were astronomical but I did not care.
Our conversations became more and more flirty.
"You totally have a crush on me, don't you?" I teased.God, it was so much fun flirting with her. We pushed the boundaries constantly. Our protests that we weren't gay started to die down. The romance ratcheted up considerably.
"Yes, I do," she answered to my delight.
We treated our birthdays like federal holidays. We engaged in tremendous fan fare. For her 19th birthday, I sent her a care package teeming with gifts. One of the items was a journal. I like to christen journals before I give them as gifts so I wrote a story on the first page. Basically, it was about something beautiful that grew and eclipsed the sadness in a dark, dreary place.
She cried while she thanked me during our scheduled birthday call. She couldn't believe how much stuff I sent and how personal it all was. But I still had one more gift up my sleeve. Hours later, when we were both delirious and exhausted and in the lengthy process of saying goodnight, I delivered it.
"I'm tired and you, Curly, you need to get up early tomorrow."At long last, I said it OUT LOUD. Writing it was hard enough but saying it was even more monumental. And notice there was no "too" after it. I did it unbidden and with conviction. I didn't put on a funny voice. I said it straight up.
"Yes, dear. Okay, you have a good night's sleep... oh and guess what?"
"What?"
"I love you."
She gasped and stammered and gasped again. Her exhaustion wore off. She was now completely wired and practically screamed "I love you too" into the phone. It was her favorite birthday present from me by far.
And we continued in this blissful vein for months but there was a painful undercurrent of longing too. I grew increasingly dissatisfied with the platonic declarations of love and dead-end flirting. One night, in particular, I was in no mood to be goofy. Our conversation took a really intense turn and I started shaking like a leaf.
"I... just... I don't know. You do something to me that...I just can't... I think I'm...."What was strange was that we'd open up and expose ourselves like this all the time but the hole always somehow closed back up. She too was prone to the aggravating tendency to make bold statements at night only to back pedal the next day. We'd punish each other with too much information about our social calendars in "real life." We'd inform each other of our flirting and numbers exchanged with guys. I hated doing it to her and I hated when she did it to me but it was a form of protection for both of us. She was Baptist. I was Catholic. Both of our parents were very religious and while we didn't share their devotion to religion, we respected and feared it.
"Curly, I know. Believe me, I know. Trust me, whatever you're feeling, I feel it too."
Our unofficial courtship followed this frustrating and bipolar course for months. After one really revealing and intimate phone call, it seemed that we were finally on our way to being a real couple, religion, family and friends be damned.
The next day, she wrote me an email saying we had to stop. She claimed responsibility for her part in turning our friendship into a relationship but insisted that it wasn't right. It wasn't what was in store for us. It couldn't be.
I was already having a bad day. Nothing in particular happened but I had an emotional shift at some point. I knew something was wrong. I didn't know what exactly but I had a distinct nagging feeling following me. I read her email and my heart just fell. I didn't know what to think or say first. There was so much clutter in my head. I simply couldn't deal with it then so I replied, "I need time to think. I'll write to you soon."
I stayed offline that night on purpose because I didn't want to chat with her. I was annoyed, agitated and frustrated. I was pissed at myself for letting this insane relationship get to this point. I shouldn't have let it escalate. I defaulted to self-preservation mode. I didn't want to let her see me hurt. I borrowed from my real-life playbook where I excelled at pretending things didn't matter.
A day or two later, I started writing a breezy response stating that I agreed with her. I was about two sentences in when I decided that no, this would not do. I didn't agree with her. And I knew deep down that she didn't really feel that way either. She was so worried about what other people would think. And so was I! I was never one to take such risks but the idea of conceding some of our hard-fought ground was just out of the question. I couldn't dial back my feelings and redefine our friendship. Not now.
I already went through the whole charade of hiding my feelings for her. I put on a smile whenever she told me about her boyfriend. I pretended to be supportive and gave her advice when they had problems. And it pained and drained me to do so. And she pouted her way through my tales of nights out with the cute doctor boys. Sharing wasn't fun for either of us. We already admitted to each other how painful it was. I refused to go back there.
So, for the first time in the history of me, I laid out all of my feelings. All of them. Bare. I told her I couldn't turn back. I'm not really one for ultimatums but I needed all or nothing. If she couldn't give me all, then she needed to leave me alone. Maybe eventually I'd bounce back and not care but right then, right there, it was impossible. I had come too far.
My response scared the shit out of her. The idea that I'd box her out didn't occur to her. She wrote, "I'm not sure you understand. Will you be home later? I want to call you. I love you."
I had already begun building up a wall to keep her out but I'd at least give her a chance to explain herself. I replied with a terse "Yeah, I'll be here" and spent the rest of the night dreading the call.
The beginning of the conversation was all mindless small talk. I refused to let it go any deeper than that. I had to protect myself, after all. I knew she was trying to find an "in" but I was blocking all of her shots. I was cordial but unwavering in my desire to systematically freeze her out. I planned on talking no more than 30 minutes so I started to wrap up the call:
"I better get going. It's been a long day and I'm starting to get tired."Finally! We were completely honest with each other for the first time. My stance softened. My tone changed completely. Instead of cool aloofness, my voice became a warm embrace. In a sense, I was able to give her that hug she needed.
"Oh... okay. So, are we... is everything okay?"
"Fine. But I really have to go."
"Would you give me a hug if I was there?"
"No." [God, I can be a real brat when I want to be.]
"No? That makes me sad. I think I really need one. More than ever."
"I don't want to. I can't. I just have to go, okay?"
"Please talk to me."
"I can't."
"Yes you can. You know you can. Tell me."
"You're making me crazy! I can't deal with this back and forth anymore. It's killing me! Just let me go."
"No! It kills me too! Do you have any idea what you do to me? Do you have any idea the kind of power you have? You could destroy me. I'm scared, Curly. I'm really scared."
We talked all night. By the morning, it was official: I had my first girlfriend.
>> Go to Part Six
-- Part One
-- Part Two
-- Part Three
-- Part Four
posted by curly mcdimple @ 5:43 PM :: permalink :: ::
