So Snuggie and I had a romantic evening of screenplay writing at a coffee shop and later watching our guilty pleasure, Twilight: Eclipse. In between my night out and my night in, I made a very masochistic pit stop: Union Square Park. So many gentlemen holding flowers waiting for their tardy significant others made me smile. Then comes the masochism.
I walked behind the arch, near the big, possibly oak tree (but I’m not a botanist,) to the dent in the dirt, where tables and chairs usually are in the summer. To the exact spot where I first met Shady. I glanced over at the red “W” hotel sign, and had a flash back that was worthy of a Blockbuster Rom-Com. Looking at the pile of dirt, I still could see him slouched over staring at his sneakers— only to jump up for a hug when I approached him.
The flashback concluded, I became present in the actual moment of an unusually warm winter night. Ironically, the day we met was an unusually hot day, even for the summer. Staring at the pile of dirt where the chair and the man once stood, I felt compelled to put flowers or a rock or a note or something. After all, telling someone “Forget you know my name” is as final as it gets. Noticing that my pockets were empty, I realized that I gave enough to Shady and to everyone. This should be much less dramatic and infinitely easier.
After a pensive and emotional five minutes of staring at a pile of dirt like a well-dressed homeless person in Union Square, I walked to the train and left. Clenching a fist as tight as possible for five minutes straight and then letting go… as each finger expands outwards on it’s own the pins and needles, the tightness, the awkward mobility of freedom. Men are not pre-sale tickets for Florence and the Machine at Summer Stage… and even those are not gone forever because there’s still regular sale.
Really supportive male friends, unknowing of my dramatic funeral for a lover lost, reached out on their own accord. Volunteering advice that ranged from listening to Alanis Morisette- extra loud and on repeat, to a list of 10 reasons why I should be appreciated, to my personal favorite:
PERSONALLY, [I] think you need to learn to get over these guys. They definitely won’t come to you if they see this intensity you have about making a relationship work…and I mean it in the way of, you need to treat these as fun, and accept any range of results. I feel like ultimately you have ownership of yourself, you’re confident, you’re certainly not desperate and yet when dating comes around you seem to lose your center.
Between advice and Eclipse, two things were certain. Edward Cullen is a fictional character and I need to be myself while not judging/puking/judging myself for puking. If I can maintain best friendships with a laundry list of guys, then it’s not me that’s the issue. What’s the value of not showing up as me? What is this pattern of unawareness and fear I’m living in? What can I do with it? How can I change it?
Bottom Line: It’s me but it’s not me but it’s something I can work on…(it’s me.)
Next Up: TBD
Your Undercover Lover,
Joneshaw
