Blessings from MY FRIEND
This afternoon, MY FRIEND stopped by to watch his favorite movie, Collateral. He has a beautiful way of analyzing the image of Vincent's last breath that cannot be seen by eyes who have not seen the movie at least 20 times. For this, I love him (MY FRIEND, not Mr. I'm-so-in-love-that-I-bought-Katie-a- sonogram-machine). He also granted my wish for some butter. Too much, for just little old me, but it smelled good. My hands still smelled of it after the exchange. MY FRIEND loves 420 because it allows him to escape the miserable position he put himself into.
MY FRIEND came into my room on Monday, looking more down than usual. He called earlier that morning, at the ungodly hour of 6:20 a.m. to let me know he wouldn't be coming in that day, and to ask about the steps he had to take to make sure the right people knew. I told him how to do it and thought about calling him back when I really woke up to make sure all went well. I was pleasantly surprised to see him walk by at 7:55. Hey, I said, did you call me this morning or did I just dream it? It's a long story, I'll have to tell you about it later, he said. Anyway, we chit-chatted; strange, now that I think about it, that we even had to have small talk, but nevertheless, I engaged in it with him. Once we passed the regular bullshit about our day, our work, and our lives, I began my confession.
I've been thinking, I told him, that I think I want to be in a relationship with someone.
What, he gasped, you don't want that. You said you never wanted that.
Yes, I know, I answered, but I want it. I'm ready now. I want to have love again. It's time.
No, you don't. You don't know what you're saying. I'm so sick of my wife, he said in frustration, so sick of her stupidity.
Stupidity, I repeated, in what way is she stupid?
He said, you don't even know how stupid she is. She has to be told what to do. It's like being with a kid all day.
I laughed and reminded him, I am sometimes with a kid all day, but Matt doesn't have to be told what to do. He more or less knows what he needs to do, but sometimes he's too lazy to do it, so a gentle push in the right direction usually does the trick.
Yes, but she's so stupid, he continued as he started to pace. I'm getting so sick of it. I'm getting sick of this. I'm normally a patient person, but I'm losing my patience with her.
What did she do, I pursued. Did she make a sandwich the way you didn't want her to?
Obviously, he countered annoyed, if I am this upset, it's something bigger. I cannot explain it to you, don't know how, but I'm getting sick of it.
I've learned when people are on a verbal tirade, it's best to allow them the luxury of letting it all out. And that's what I did.
MY FRIEND breaks my heart sometimes. He is so handsome. He is so smart. He has sparks of wittiness. He is lost. He is tall. And he is sporting a three-day growth on his face. He is sexy...well, he could be, if he just loosened up. I think marriage is the best thing for him, but I do not know the future of that commitment.
I told him once that the reason I didn't accept a position I was offered 2 years ago was because if I had, he and I would never have met. I was flirting at the time, but I guess it stuck with him because now, he frequently interjects with that phrase whenever I threaten to leave the hell I call workplace. Just remember, he says, you are here because if you weren't, you would never have met me. A secret smile begins to reveal itself, astonished that he listens to me...and remembers.
Today, while we were watching a movie, something curious happened. I said something to him, which was unimportant; otherwise, it wouldn't have escaped me so surreptitiously as it had just done. But I remember looking up at him for a response. And what I saw broke my heart again. He looked at me, closed his eyes, and turned his head to the side. Something about his actions made me think that I hurt him. And with him, still waters run deep.
Last Friday, he attended a stupid thing sponsored by the grandparents of our work. Really, he was there to support someone he knew, a sweet and kind gesture. Before the dinner, though, we grabbed drinks at a new place. When we walked into the NEW PLACE, he said, wanna hear something funny? This morning, in the shower, I thought of this word, the name of this place. Coincidence? I'd like to say fate.
We talked, and I drank my favorite drink, mojito. Why it is interpreted differently by different bar tenders escapes me. Anyway, I was getting a little drunk, drinking too much too fast, but mostly because I was excited to be out with him again. He punishes me sometimes, when he is jealous of my weekends, especially if I've met boys. And unfortunately for me, the last two weekends were filled with boys boys boys.
The thing is that it's easy for me to meet boys. It's easy for me to converse, to flirt, to leave. That is my specialty, leaving. I don't like to waste time by making it seem that there will be more after the moment ends. It's probably a protective sheath I weave around my heart and my ego, one that becomes more and more tiresome as I get older.
That Friday, I told MY FRIEND, you know, I think you have this impression of me that I go out and meet so many people and immediately adopt them as my friends and welcome them into my life with open arms.
He said, well, you do meet a lot of guys. You have so many BOYfriends.
BOYfriends? What are we, twelve? Yes, I meet guys, and I talk to them, and it's fun. But most of the time, it's meaningless. And let me tell you something, I waited for a dramatic pause, let me tell you that I miss you when we don't talk. When I'm with you, I feel like I'm home because you understand what I say. And even though you don't listen, I feel like you do. You fake it well.
I listen to everything you say, whether or not I care to. What a prick.
Look, I know I have great mini-conversations with boys, but I would rather spend 5 minutes talking to you than talk to any of them for a whole afternoon. So, please remember that the next time your insecurity seeps in.
You know, I AM insecure. But thanks for telling me that. And then he smiled. Not a full smile, but a half-smile. This is progress.
This afternoon, MY FRIEND stopped by to watch his favorite movie, Collateral. He has a beautiful way of analyzing the image of Vincent's last breath that cannot be seen by eyes who have not seen the movie at least 20 times. For this, I love him (MY FRIEND, not Mr. I'm-so-in-love-that-I-bought-Katie-a- sonogram-machine). He also granted my wish for some butter. Too much, for just little old me, but it smelled good. My hands still smelled of it after the exchange. MY FRIEND loves 420 because it allows him to escape the miserable position he put himself into.
MY FRIEND came into my room on Monday, looking more down than usual. He called earlier that morning, at the ungodly hour of 6:20 a.m. to let me know he wouldn't be coming in that day, and to ask about the steps he had to take to make sure the right people knew. I told him how to do it and thought about calling him back when I really woke up to make sure all went well. I was pleasantly surprised to see him walk by at 7:55. Hey, I said, did you call me this morning or did I just dream it? It's a long story, I'll have to tell you about it later, he said. Anyway, we chit-chatted; strange, now that I think about it, that we even had to have small talk, but nevertheless, I engaged in it with him. Once we passed the regular bullshit about our day, our work, and our lives, I began my confession.
I've been thinking, I told him, that I think I want to be in a relationship with someone.
What, he gasped, you don't want that. You said you never wanted that.
Yes, I know, I answered, but I want it. I'm ready now. I want to have love again. It's time.
No, you don't. You don't know what you're saying. I'm so sick of my wife, he said in frustration, so sick of her stupidity.
Stupidity, I repeated, in what way is she stupid?
He said, you don't even know how stupid she is. She has to be told what to do. It's like being with a kid all day.
I laughed and reminded him, I am sometimes with a kid all day, but Matt doesn't have to be told what to do. He more or less knows what he needs to do, but sometimes he's too lazy to do it, so a gentle push in the right direction usually does the trick.
Yes, but she's so stupid, he continued as he started to pace. I'm getting so sick of it. I'm getting sick of this. I'm normally a patient person, but I'm losing my patience with her.
What did she do, I pursued. Did she make a sandwich the way you didn't want her to?
Obviously, he countered annoyed, if I am this upset, it's something bigger. I cannot explain it to you, don't know how, but I'm getting sick of it.
I've learned when people are on a verbal tirade, it's best to allow them the luxury of letting it all out. And that's what I did.
MY FRIEND breaks my heart sometimes. He is so handsome. He is so smart. He has sparks of wittiness. He is lost. He is tall. And he is sporting a three-day growth on his face. He is sexy...well, he could be, if he just loosened up. I think marriage is the best thing for him, but I do not know the future of that commitment.
I told him once that the reason I didn't accept a position I was offered 2 years ago was because if I had, he and I would never have met. I was flirting at the time, but I guess it stuck with him because now, he frequently interjects with that phrase whenever I threaten to leave the hell I call workplace. Just remember, he says, you are here because if you weren't, you would never have met me. A secret smile begins to reveal itself, astonished that he listens to me...and remembers.
Today, while we were watching a movie, something curious happened. I said something to him, which was unimportant; otherwise, it wouldn't have escaped me so surreptitiously as it had just done. But I remember looking up at him for a response. And what I saw broke my heart again. He looked at me, closed his eyes, and turned his head to the side. Something about his actions made me think that I hurt him. And with him, still waters run deep.
Last Friday, he attended a stupid thing sponsored by the grandparents of our work. Really, he was there to support someone he knew, a sweet and kind gesture. Before the dinner, though, we grabbed drinks at a new place. When we walked into the NEW PLACE, he said, wanna hear something funny? This morning, in the shower, I thought of this word, the name of this place. Coincidence? I'd like to say fate.
We talked, and I drank my favorite drink, mojito. Why it is interpreted differently by different bar tenders escapes me. Anyway, I was getting a little drunk, drinking too much too fast, but mostly because I was excited to be out with him again. He punishes me sometimes, when he is jealous of my weekends, especially if I've met boys. And unfortunately for me, the last two weekends were filled with boys boys boys.
The thing is that it's easy for me to meet boys. It's easy for me to converse, to flirt, to leave. That is my specialty, leaving. I don't like to waste time by making it seem that there will be more after the moment ends. It's probably a protective sheath I weave around my heart and my ego, one that becomes more and more tiresome as I get older.
That Friday, I told MY FRIEND, you know, I think you have this impression of me that I go out and meet so many people and immediately adopt them as my friends and welcome them into my life with open arms.
He said, well, you do meet a lot of guys. You have so many BOYfriends.
BOYfriends? What are we, twelve? Yes, I meet guys, and I talk to them, and it's fun. But most of the time, it's meaningless. And let me tell you something, I waited for a dramatic pause, let me tell you that I miss you when we don't talk. When I'm with you, I feel like I'm home because you understand what I say. And even though you don't listen, I feel like you do. You fake it well.
I listen to everything you say, whether or not I care to. What a prick.
Look, I know I have great mini-conversations with boys, but I would rather spend 5 minutes talking to you than talk to any of them for a whole afternoon. So, please remember that the next time your insecurity seeps in.
You know, I AM insecure. But thanks for telling me that. And then he smiled. Not a full smile, but a half-smile. This is progress.
posted by m/p @ 7:57 PM
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