re: the muppets (part seven)
Here's the next installment of my lengthy tome. Please click here for Parts One through Six.
When I got back to Jersey, I was deflated, depressed... and forever changed. I was happy to see my family and friends but I felt restless and out of place. My resentment of my reputation there was at an all-time high. The weight of it crushed me. I wanted my Oklahoma bliss to be my baseline, not this suffocating loneliness.
I missed her terribly, more than ever before. After a couple of years of acting shy and silly, we had finally relaxed across the board. In person, we enjoyed the comfort that was once reserved for late-night conversations and daydreams. It was just so easy when she and I were together. She got me. I hated being apart. I longed for our snug fit.
And in addition to the pain of separation, I had to deal with the fact that I was technically a full-blown lesbian. I had been "initiated." Leading up to the trip, my lesbianism was merely theoretical. But now it was real.
Facing my mother was tough. I couldn't look her in the eyes. At times, I couldn't even look myself in the eyes. I stared through my reflection when brushing my teeth, applying makeup, tweezing my eyebrows. I chose not to deal. I isolated the memory in a special corner of my mind because if I kept it hidden there, I wouldn't have to fully confront it. It made it easier to perpetuate the lie.
I was bursting with love for her but at the same time, I was confused, ashamed and scared. It was so difficult to associate such feelings with this person, my beautiful girl, who brought me so much joy. I felt like I betrayed her every time I doubted or denied us in my mind.
Before long, the strain of a long-distance relationship started to show. Our time spent together in person was near perfect, but without the hand holding, kissing, deep embraces, meaningful looks and uh, you know, other stuff, it became really hard to convey comfort and reassurance across the miles. In exchange for our consistency, we surrendered some of the magic of our unspoken connection. Insecurity reigned supreme.
I had no doubt in my mind that she loved me but I started to question the depth and scope of that love. Old habits started to creep in. The wishy-washy behavior resumed on her part. She was not alone in that trepidation, but I kept my questioning and debate to myself. I tried working it out so as not to confuse or upset her. But there were times when it overwhelmed me and I did what she had encouraged and "trained" me to do from the get-go -- trust her.
And most of the time she was supportive and receptive. Other days, she defied her own rules and retreated instead of reaching out. Depending on her mood, she was either cooing romantically into the phone or keeping it all business. The latter was her way of dealing with fear. That girl could redefine, recategorize and rationalize like nobody's business.
If she played the platonic card on a day when I felt particularly uncertain, it was an absolute mess. We fought and said horrible things to each other. We often ended the phone call on a really bad note. Sometimes I hung up on her. The next day, one of us would crack and send an apology and a promise not let things get weird again. But those promises were empty because we inevitably fell victim to "the weirdness," as we called it, time and time again. When we were in sync, it was remarkable. When our freak-out cycles overlapped, it was awful. It became a pattern that was stuck in a neverending loop.
During one phone call, she was particularly distant and distracted. I was beyond fed up. After an aggravating series of remote and lackadaisical responses, I said,
When we weren't fighting, we had the whole package -- friendship, love and passion. We knew we had problems but we tried to work through them. As much as our relationship terrified us, we couldn't deny our happiness... most of the time.
Early in our friendship, I came home to find a medium-sized cardboard box waiting for me. I opened it up and rummaged through the tissue paper. And then I heard it -- the tinkling sound of broken glass. I looked inside and shards of frosted blue glass littered the box. Beneath the schrapnel was a heavy dolphin-shaped base which was cracked completely in half.
I read the note. It was overflowing with excitement and hope that I'd love the present she picked out especially for me. She went away for the weekend and made it her mission to find me the perfect gift. She knew I loved dolphins so after hours of shopping, she found the lamp in a funky shop that sold incense, tapestries, dream catchers and various marijuana paraphernalia. She took one look at it and couldn't pass it up.
I was absolutely crushed. I dabbed at my eyes, cursed the postal service and debated what to do next.
An email would be too impersonal so I called her to say thank you... and maybe explain what happened. I wasn't sure if I should tell her though. Luckily, she wasn't home. Her roommate answered the phone and immediately asked if I liked my gift.
I took her roommate's advice and never let on that it was broken. I did my best to glue the base together and I kept that on display in my bedroom as a reminder of her generosity and caring spirit. I put on a good show when she called me back the night I received it. And I wasn't lying when I told her how beautiful and special that gift was.
But now she was coming to stay with me! She was going to see the broken lamp! I knew of a couple of hippie-dippy shops in the area so I called around and went through another endless chain of phone calls. Again, no one could sell me a replacement.
I picked her up at Rice's brother's apartment on the night she arrived. After hanging out with her school friends in the East Village, it was time to head to my house. The whole ride home I fretted over that lamp. We stood outside the door of my bedroom and I turned around and spoke in a trembling voice:
Her stay with the McDimples was as magical as my time in Oklahoma. My family really rolled out the red carpet for her. The McDimples are always kind and generous to guests but this was different. My family gave her the same treatment my brother-in-law received when he first came on the scene. It was reverential yet relaxed. Everyone put their best foot forward but the atmosphere wasn't formal or stuffy.
And she fit right in. She sat through dinner with a huge smile on her face. I watched as she soaked in the dynamic. She loved everything about my large, Irish-Catholic family. She even got in on the act when we teased the much-loathed boyfriend of my second oldest sister. He had a ponytail and a bad attitude that none of us appreciated. She delighted in the way we openly scorned him.
She kept her fingers crossed that my very pregnant oldest sister would have the baby during her stay. She called every day after she left to get an update. She was ecstatic to be an aunt of sorts. She wanted an in with my family in the worst way and the McDimples were more than happy to absorb her into the fold. Even my gruff father gave her a kiss on the cheek and a big hug when she left.
My mother was particularly taken with her. After they were introduced, my mother pulled me aside and remarked on her beauty. And it seemed like she had phrased it as a compliment to me. Perhaps I'm reaching but I felt like my mother knew on some level and it was a small step toward her eventual acceptance.
Over the next month or two, I became more and more despondent at home. I had reached my saturation point for misery. I needed to do something. I was out with some friends one night and had an epiphany. I came home and started writing her an email. It was almost 4:00 in the morning but I couldn't sleep. I had big news and I wanted to share it. As I was typing away feverishly, she signed on.
But first, we had to make it through the summer. We knew ahead of time that it was going to be a tough couple of months. At the end of May, she left for Iowa to participate in a summer theater workshop. It was an intense program that counted as a full semester towards graduation. We tried to steel ourselves for three months of restricted free time and virtually no phone or email contact.
The night before she left, we had a long and very enlightening conversation.
At last, she reached out to me instead of retreating. I never felt closer to her. I opened up completely about my fears about my family's and friends' reactions. I copped to the internal doubts and denials that ran me ragged for so long. And I told her how when I needed to dip into that well of trust she promised me and found it to be a bit shallow or lacking, it sent me running back to my old ways.
Yet another new level of understanding was reached. And unlike our many prior day-after apologies, this one seemed like it was going to stick. We vowed that there would be no more weirdness and no more hiding behind on-the-fly definitions and redrawn lines.
>> Go to Part Eight
-- Part One
-- Part Two
-- Part Three
-- Part Four
-- Part Five
-- Part Six
~ Part Seven~
When I got back to Jersey, I was deflated, depressed... and forever changed. I was happy to see my family and friends but I felt restless and out of place. My resentment of my reputation there was at an all-time high. The weight of it crushed me. I wanted my Oklahoma bliss to be my baseline, not this suffocating loneliness.
I missed her terribly, more than ever before. After a couple of years of acting shy and silly, we had finally relaxed across the board. In person, we enjoyed the comfort that was once reserved for late-night conversations and daydreams. It was just so easy when she and I were together. She got me. I hated being apart. I longed for our snug fit.
And in addition to the pain of separation, I had to deal with the fact that I was technically a full-blown lesbian. I had been "initiated." Leading up to the trip, my lesbianism was merely theoretical. But now it was real.
Facing my mother was tough. I couldn't look her in the eyes. At times, I couldn't even look myself in the eyes. I stared through my reflection when brushing my teeth, applying makeup, tweezing my eyebrows. I chose not to deal. I isolated the memory in a special corner of my mind because if I kept it hidden there, I wouldn't have to fully confront it. It made it easier to perpetuate the lie.
I was bursting with love for her but at the same time, I was confused, ashamed and scared. It was so difficult to associate such feelings with this person, my beautiful girl, who brought me so much joy. I felt like I betrayed her every time I doubted or denied us in my mind.
Before long, the strain of a long-distance relationship started to show. Our time spent together in person was near perfect, but without the hand holding, kissing, deep embraces, meaningful looks and uh, you know, other stuff, it became really hard to convey comfort and reassurance across the miles. In exchange for our consistency, we surrendered some of the magic of our unspoken connection. Insecurity reigned supreme.
I had no doubt in my mind that she loved me but I started to question the depth and scope of that love. Old habits started to creep in. The wishy-washy behavior resumed on her part. She was not alone in that trepidation, but I kept my questioning and debate to myself. I tried working it out so as not to confuse or upset her. But there were times when it overwhelmed me and I did what she had encouraged and "trained" me to do from the get-go -- trust her.
And most of the time she was supportive and receptive. Other days, she defied her own rules and retreated instead of reaching out. Depending on her mood, she was either cooing romantically into the phone or keeping it all business. The latter was her way of dealing with fear. That girl could redefine, recategorize and rationalize like nobody's business.
If she played the platonic card on a day when I felt particularly uncertain, it was an absolute mess. We fought and said horrible things to each other. We often ended the phone call on a really bad note. Sometimes I hung up on her. The next day, one of us would crack and send an apology and a promise not let things get weird again. But those promises were empty because we inevitably fell victim to "the weirdness," as we called it, time and time again. When we were in sync, it was remarkable. When our freak-out cycles overlapped, it was awful. It became a pattern that was stuck in a neverending loop.
During one phone call, she was particularly distant and distracted. I was beyond fed up. After an aggravating series of remote and lackadaisical responses, I said,
"That's it! I'm out of here. I've had enough of this! I can't do this anymore! Do you hear me? I'm done!"I was just about to hang up and she pleaded with me to stay on the phone. I was exhausted and just sick to death of her inconsistency and her hypocrisy. This relationship was not easy for me either but for all her talk of faith and trust, she did a bang-up job of freezing me out. So I let her have it and once again gave her the choice to either accept me completely or just let me go lick my wounds and get on with life. It was a really tough conversation but hours later, she had talked me down off the ledge.
When we weren't fighting, we had the whole package -- friendship, love and passion. We knew we had problems but we tried to work through them. As much as our relationship terrified us, we couldn't deny our happiness... most of the time.
"Guess what?"I was excited but at the same time, I felt a sickening thud in my stomach when she made the announcement. Not even because of the whole "What will my family think?" issue. We made it through a week undetected in Oklahoma so I had no doubt we could pull off the same in Jersey. My concern lay in one thing and one thing only -- a lamp.
"Chicken butt?"
"Yes, chicken butt. How'd you know?"
"I know all."
"True. But guess what else?"
"Uh, I give up."
"I'm coming to New York for spring break for a WHOLE week! So is Rice and Gay Boyfriend. Rice's brother lives in Manhattan but he'll be out of town so his place will be empty..."
"Um, are you staying there too? Or..."
"Duh, Curly. I already told Rice I'm staying with you. You're all mine for a whole week."
"Oh my God. You're coming to my house?! You get to meet my family?!?"
"Yes! Can you believe it?
"Oh man, this is going to be interesting."
Early in our friendship, I came home to find a medium-sized cardboard box waiting for me. I opened it up and rummaged through the tissue paper. And then I heard it -- the tinkling sound of broken glass. I looked inside and shards of frosted blue glass littered the box. Beneath the schrapnel was a heavy dolphin-shaped base which was cracked completely in half.
I read the note. It was overflowing with excitement and hope that I'd love the present she picked out especially for me. She went away for the weekend and made it her mission to find me the perfect gift. She knew I loved dolphins so after hours of shopping, she found the lamp in a funky shop that sold incense, tapestries, dream catchers and various marijuana paraphernalia. She took one look at it and couldn't pass it up.
I was absolutely crushed. I dabbed at my eyes, cursed the postal service and debated what to do next.
An email would be too impersonal so I called her to say thank you... and maybe explain what happened. I wasn't sure if I should tell her though. Luckily, she wasn't home. Her roommate answered the phone and immediately asked if I liked my gift.
"Oh my God! I don't know what to do! I opened the box and it was broken in a million pieces. I feel terrible. What should I do?!"Her roommate did some research and got me the name and phone number of the shop where she purchased the lamp. I called the store and they didn't have any more in stock. They recommended another shop who recommended another shop who recommended another. Eventually I was put in touch with a distributor, which was a waste of time because the distributor didn't even know what I was talking about. Long story short, I made dozens of calls to small shops and distributors across the country and no one could help. It was a one-of-a-kind gift, in more ways than one.
"Oh no! Are you serious?!"
"Unfortunately, yes. I can't believe this."
"Curly, you cannot tell her! She'll be heartbroken! She searched all over for that and couldn't wait to send it to you. It's all she's talked about since. It would just kill her to know."
"I know! I know! I'm just sick about it, I really am. Do you know where she got it? Maybe I can replace it and not tell her?"
"Good idea! I'll find out!"
I took her roommate's advice and never let on that it was broken. I did my best to glue the base together and I kept that on display in my bedroom as a reminder of her generosity and caring spirit. I put on a good show when she called me back the night I received it. And I wasn't lying when I told her how beautiful and special that gift was.
But now she was coming to stay with me! She was going to see the broken lamp! I knew of a couple of hippie-dippy shops in the area so I called around and went through another endless chain of phone calls. Again, no one could sell me a replacement.
I picked her up at Rice's brother's apartment on the night she arrived. After hanging out with her school friends in the East Village, it was time to head to my house. The whole ride home I fretted over that lamp. We stood outside the door of my bedroom and I turned around and spoke in a trembling voice:
"Before we go in, there's something I have to tell you and I really hope you don't hate me."Crisis averted. To this day, she still thinks I broke that lamp.
She reached out and stroked my cheek and said, "I won't hate you. What's wrong?"
"I... I... "
Now she looked worried. "What? Tell me."
"I... I... I... broke the lamp you sent me. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!!!! I was cleaning and I accidentally knocked it over. It fell on the floor and broke in a million pieces! I tried my best to fix it! I'm sorry!"
She looked relieved. "That's it?! God, you scared me!"
"I'm so sorry."
"Oh, it's okay, sweetie."
"No, I'm really sorry. You have no idea."
She drew me close and said, "Aw. Come here, clumsy."
Her stay with the McDimples was as magical as my time in Oklahoma. My family really rolled out the red carpet for her. The McDimples are always kind and generous to guests but this was different. My family gave her the same treatment my brother-in-law received when he first came on the scene. It was reverential yet relaxed. Everyone put their best foot forward but the atmosphere wasn't formal or stuffy.
And she fit right in. She sat through dinner with a huge smile on her face. I watched as she soaked in the dynamic. She loved everything about my large, Irish-Catholic family. She even got in on the act when we teased the much-loathed boyfriend of my second oldest sister. He had a ponytail and a bad attitude that none of us appreciated. She delighted in the way we openly scorned him.
She kept her fingers crossed that my very pregnant oldest sister would have the baby during her stay. She called every day after she left to get an update. She was ecstatic to be an aunt of sorts. She wanted an in with my family in the worst way and the McDimples were more than happy to absorb her into the fold. Even my gruff father gave her a kiss on the cheek and a big hug when she left.
My mother was particularly taken with her. After they were introduced, my mother pulled me aside and remarked on her beauty. And it seemed like she had phrased it as a compliment to me. Perhaps I'm reaching but I felt like my mother knew on some level and it was a small step toward her eventual acceptance.
Over the next month or two, I became more and more despondent at home. I had reached my saturation point for misery. I needed to do something. I was out with some friends one night and had an epiphany. I came home and started writing her an email. It was almost 4:00 in the morning but I couldn't sleep. I had big news and I wanted to share it. As I was typing away feverishly, she signed on.
Her: Oh my God! What are you doing here?We discussed the logistics and daydreamed about my off-campus apartment and my getting a job at her school. She theorized that all of her friends would become angry with her because all of her time would be spent with me. The plan was that I'd live in Columbia for her senior year and after that... we'd go wherever the day took us. Maybe bum around Colorado for a bit and then head further west. Eventually we'd move to New York where she'd audition to her heart's content while I found a writing job.
Me: Couldn't sleep. I'm in the middle of writing you an email. Why are you up so late?
Her: I don't know. Something told me to sign on. I was hoping you'd be here but I wasn't counting on it.
Me: You have no idea how happy I am that you did. Can I ask you a question?
Her: Yeah, go ahead.
Me: Well, it's not definite that I can even pull this off and I have a lot of stuff to consider but... how would you feel if I moved to Columbia [Missouri, where she was attending school]?
Her: Oh my God! What?!?!
Me: Like I said, I don't know if I can swing it but I can try... if you want me to.
Her: Let me think about it... YES!!!
Me: Oh, thank God. I was hoping that's what you'd say.
Her: But what about your family, Curly? Won't you miss them?
Me: Yes but I can't let that stop me. I have to do this. I miss YOU and it's killing me. And I think it's hurting us. I hate living so far away from you.
Her: This is unbelievable. You mean, we might actually live in the same state?!?! This would be a dream come true. I can't even tell you how happy I am that you'd even consider doing this for me.
Her: Can we get a dog and a cat?We had so much fun laying down the house rules and imagining the decor and layout of our future home. Our life together started taking shape. We were excited. We had a goal. If I could get a loan to consolidate my debt, I would move there by September.
Me: A dog, yes. But do we really need to have a cat? How about two dogs?
Her: How about two dogs AND a cat? Pretty please?
Me: Oh, okay. Allergies be damned... but it's not allowed in the bed.
Her: Aw! Can the dogs sleep in the bed?
Me: No, that's gross. I don't want dirty dog butt in my bed. Plus the hair will kill me.
Her: You're mean, Curly.
Me: Don't even think about letting them on the furniture when I'm not home either!
Her: How will you know?
Me: I'll know. I know everything. So don't do it.
Her: Okay, but even if I did let them, you'll have no way of finding out.
Me: Um, what about the huge clumps of hair?
Her: I'll vacuum them up and you, my dear, won't be any the wiser.
Me: I mean it. No pets on the furniture. Oh, and if you even think about letting the dogs eat off your plate, I'm totally dumping you.
But first, we had to make it through the summer. We knew ahead of time that it was going to be a tough couple of months. At the end of May, she left for Iowa to participate in a summer theater workshop. It was an intense program that counted as a full semester towards graduation. We tried to steel ourselves for three months of restricted free time and virtually no phone or email contact.
The night before she left, we had a long and very enlightening conversation.
"Can I share something with you, Curly?"She then explained that her brother had launched into an anti-gay speech one night at dinner and it was accepted and practically applauded by her Baptist family. She protested and her brother accused her of being gay. He was using it more as an insult with no real clue as to how right he was. She denied it and the topic eventually died. But her brother wasn't chastised. In that environment, she was in the wrong for her acceptance of homosexuality. Seeing how much her family shunned and hated homosexuality was a real eye-opener.
"Always."
"Do you know how sometimes things got weird with us?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"Well, I think I know why..."
At last, she reached out to me instead of retreating. I never felt closer to her. I opened up completely about my fears about my family's and friends' reactions. I copped to the internal doubts and denials that ran me ragged for so long. And I told her how when I needed to dip into that well of trust she promised me and found it to be a bit shallow or lacking, it sent me running back to my old ways.
Yet another new level of understanding was reached. And unlike our many prior day-after apologies, this one seemed like it was going to stick. We vowed that there would be no more weirdness and no more hiding behind on-the-fly definitions and redrawn lines.
"Just take my hand and squeeze," I said.We tucked each other in that night, saddened by our impending separation but heartened by our new beginning.
"I will."
"Pinky promise?"
"Pinky promise."
>> Go to Part Eight
-- Part One
-- Part Two
-- Part Three
-- Part Four
-- Part Five
-- Part Six
posted by curly mcdimple @ 3:26 PM :: permalink :: ::
