What Was His Name Again?
It wasn’t that long ago. Maybe a couple of months. I was a little bit tipsy, which means I was feeling a little sexy. So, I texted him. Just to say hi and flirt. I knew it would be safe because I knew he wouldn’t try to get in my pants – mostly because his house is way out in the woods. And even if his phone did pick up the signal he wasn’t going to come all the way to town. Even if he thought he might get laid.
I don’t know what I said to him, but his answer was pretty brash: I have a girlfriend.
Well, okay. Good luck with that. And I deleted his number out of my phone.
It’s not like I’d seen him for months anyway. The last time I saw him he was on a date with another girl…at the restaurant where I work. And I had to keep walking past his table, trying not to make eye contact. Thank God I wasn’t his server.
He caught my eye a couple of times and smiled. Grinned at me in that knowing way that made my cheeks catch on fire and gave me the intense urge to look down just to be sure that I was still clothed.
Isn’t it funny that being around someone who knows what you look like naked makes you feel like everyone suddenly knows what you look like naked?
And even though he was never my boyfriend — just a tryst gone a little wrong — he’s seen so much more than me naked. He held me the day of my uncle’s funeral. Watched me cry. Saw the laughter behind my eyes that one only gets a glimpse of when I feel comfortable enough to feel like no one is looking. Heard me singing to myself. Felt my breath on his neck while we whispered in the dark to one another.
That naked.
And when I told him that I wasn’t happy just being a tryst — that I wanted a significant other, not just a lover — he behaved so bizarrely. Even when I told him he had a good chance at being my man, if he wanted it. He just disappeared.
An extra measure of pain in the vulnerability.
Extra naked.
Then having him smile at me while I worked… yeah.
So, his number is gone and I didn’t think I would ever see him again.
Over, right? No biggie.
And then I went to the theatre. And I saw him — of all things — trailing behind a friend of mine in that way that a boyfriend trails his girlfriend when he’s been persuaded to go to the theatre but doesn’t really want to be there.
So she’s the girlfriend.
And I feel naked again. But no one saw him look at me. My friend didn’t. No one else in the room can see that I remember what he smells like when he’s been sweating. Or that he likes to mumble a bit so that a person has to lean closer to hear him.
And he avoided looking at me again.
“Well, I hope they’re happy.”
But, of course, I can’t leave it at that. I was curious. I asked some of our mutual friends how long she had been seeing him. (I wondered if she really was the girlfriend he mentioned or if she’s a newer incarnation of that position.) I got a very odd responses. Both of the people I asked were a bit confused. Confused because I had his name wrong. His name wasn’t Evan. His name is Eddie.
“Huh? I swear that’s him. Evan Romano, right?”
“Nope, Eddie Ramirez.”
Did something small just explode? And was it someplace in my head?
I saw both of them again a week later, Evan…er, Eddie and my friend, and I am just baffled at what I could or should possibly do next. I mean what are the options? Tell my friend? Confront him about it? I can’t call or text him, cause I deleted his number.
Maybe when I saw the two of them I should have introduced myself and seen what he did. Maybe it isn’t him. Maybe I should ask if he has a big surgical scar on his thigh and see how guilty he reacts.
That makes me laugh to think about. Like an awkward scene in a movie.
In a movie — right? Not in real life. It’s unreal.
Maybe I imagined it all. What was his name again?
Like this:
My Valentine: Puppy Love
Who do you love?
Main Entry: puppy love
Function: noun
Date: 1823
Definition: transitory love or affection felt by a child or adolescent
Since 1823 this phrase has been used to dismiss many attractions. I’ve used it myself. But I really wonder how the term gained its definition. If you think about it, it doesn’t make too much sense.
On the average day, as I wander around my apartment my puppy, Snicker, wanders around behind me. At the very least she watches me. She absolutely dotes on me.
She’s follows me from room to room, up and down the stairs repeatedly. When I sit on the couch, she jumps up onto the couch. When I go to the bathroom she follows me and waits outside the door until I’m done. She’s even lying on the floor next to me at this very moment with her head on my foot.
Yeah I know it’s a bit much. But, my point is, she is cheerfully, energetically, and undyingly devoted to me.
The more I think about it the more I don’t think the term puppy love should be associated with transitory, immature or silly love. If anything it should be associated with loyal, endless, cheerful love.
Now I don’t want a fella following me to the bathroom, but I think we could all use some puppy love (especially from the people we love).
I know I needed the puppy love today and I wish you all get some puppy love this Valentine’s Day.
Like this:
Ugh, I hope it’s just PMS
Anxious, sad, angry, nervous, tired, wired, cranky…
Obviously something is going on. I try to get it out by talking to friends, meditating a bit and now writing (I probably should have tried writing sooner, but you can’t sit down to write while you’re slinging seafood).
I’m freaking out a little bit. My brain keeps circling one topic — the way water circles a drain — and it won’t stop. I’ve looked at it from a multitude of angles and thought of as many solutions as I can, but my brain just won’t put the stupid thing down. Why can’t I concentrate on anything else?
Something that won’t make me anxious…something that will allow me to fall asleep…something that doesn’t make me clench my teeth?
And, maybe the worst part of all this: it isn’t an unfamiliar feeling.
I get like this sometimes. If you have read my blog for a couple of years you may remember a few posts about it from the past.I don’t know what causes the feeling. In the past I usually blamed the “high stress” situations at my job. But really, were they that stressful?
And if it was stress, why am I stressing out so much about this one thing?
Okay, it is about work. And money. And it involves my biggest client at the moment. So there’s that.
I don’t want to think about this so much in a negative way and turn it into something worse than it is because of all the concentrated negative energy — BLAST IT! And the next meeting isn’t until Monday afternoon. If I am thinking about this, like this for the next three days I may just go insane.
Please, God, take this out of my brain. Give me a sweeter drain to circle. Like the class I’m taking to creating love in my life. Or the writing class I’m going to be teaching in March. Or getting my apartment clean. Or even just work while I’m there for the next two days. Something I can actually do something about…sheesh.
A couple of months ago it occurred to me that every now and then I have a few really awful days and then I’ll get my period and think, “Oh, maybe it was just PMS.” And I realized that during the awful days it almost never occurs to me that it might just be PMS. So I resolved to remember that and see if realizing that it might be a common female occurrence could help a little bit.
Well, I remembered. And I really do hope this is just PMS (so that I can feel better without much effort in a few days). But, sadly, realizing it might be PMS doesn’t really help at the moment.
Blast!
