…
…it’s almost 2 am. I’m writing in the heat of passion. I sat there, relaxed outside at the bar’s beer garden. I was amidst talking with a couple, a guy and his fiance. They were discussing core desires about where they would ideally like to be in work life. The guy was opening up, being real. I was listening. Or, trying to. Then she appeared. Loud. Obnoxious. Annoying. My heart sank in an instant. My stomach felt like a brick had landed within. My hands trembled. Coming face to face with this girl’s presence was something that I have feared since the first week of Get Real. The weeks, the months, and the days of effort being real with family, friends, co-workers, myself, all were set in to motion so that maybe, just maybe, when this moment happened, I would be in a place to simply be open and free, light and humorous. I stopped listening to the couple I was talking to and felt only the rush of panic…
I ignored her. I tried to keep my focus on my conversation. But my body was filled with acid and the warmth of nervous blood pumping through. I tried to not make eye contact. I help back my expression. I could hear her loud voice and could see her approaching everyone in attendance with loud shouts for “shots.” I could her her giggling as she is swept up by a friend in his dramatic version of a simple hug. She pushes up against my chair, loudly shouting how she has graduated today. I sat there, expressionless. I wanted no part of opening a conversation with her.
Soon enough she forced contact. She touches my back. I had no choice but to acknowledge it. I turn to her. I looked in her eyes for the first time in over half a year. “We are doing shots!,” she says. “No thank you, but thanks for the offer,” I says. The truth? The truth is that I have nothing to say to her that would in any way be a “good thing” for her. What I want to say to her can never be said because for something to be “said” it must be heard. She cannot hear me…not any more. I’d be wasting my breath and just making her shoulder the burden of my own problem. She has no ears for that. She is too free, too feminine. She does what she wants, when she wants. She is, in my opinion, self-destructive. But she won’t see or hear any of that, not from me. Not from anyone.
One of the single smartest and deepest girls I have met in my life. Yet, she is also one of the most closed off. But, if truth be told, wouldn’t this be the ideal? She is, after all, living her truth. I’m just an asshole who can’t accept that. She is a physical representation of what I desire in a girl. But on a deeper level is not at all what I desire because she simply is not (and never has been) truly open with me. Perhaps, she is for others. But not me.
I’m not sure how to make sense of what I experienced tonight. In the past, tonight would send me home, crying, and thinking suicide. I would be sent home feeling so much loneliness and powerlessness that I would literally be unable to eat, sleep, or do anything. And maybe that time will come tomorrow or later. But, right now, I can say that I am surprised that I am not more broken up, more sad or frustrated.
This was THE moment that I never wanted to face. I did not face it with humor, but I did do so with poise. I did not open up and be honest with her, but I was honest with myself knowing that to talk with her would be more about giving me what I want rather than allowing her to get what she needs. I was expressionless and held myself back but feel this was the right thing to do.
She fluttered about and eventually left the bar, literally dragging a “friend” by the hand.
After she left I checked my phone and noticed a text message. It was from a colleague who was there at the bar, a girl who has also met the acquaintance of this girl. She had texted me on behalf of her: “hey it’s x. Y wants to know if you guys are OK.” NO WE ARE NOT FUCKING OK. Well, that’s what I wanted to say. But the truth, and what I did say was, “I’m not OK.” I have no problem with her. I have a problem with me. It is my issues that make it such that I cannot simply greet her with humor and joy. When it comes to this girl, I want to possess her, to have her respond to me as I expect. I want her to be “in” to me as she once was. I want her to entertain me. I want her to make me feel less lonely and more powerful. I want her to be my life. This is my issue. My purpose around her is to have, to get, and so when I see her (or even just the thought of seeing her), I run away from what I know is a futile effort. I avoid her. I never speak to her. I purposely tried to not go to bars that I know she will be at. I stop living my life, my truth, just to avoid this pain of seeing what I cannot “have.”
It has been a rough week.