Monday, February 26, 2007
And suppose I never, ever met you
It was a good weekend. A great weekend even.
I stayed busy all weekend. Almost no down time at all. Movies, volunteering, dinner, parties, brunch (more about this below), shopping and Oscars.
I have everything I could want. I couldn't ask for more. Really.
I have really, really, really great friends. I feel so lucky, every day, to have the friends that I have. I can tell them things, the things that I've hidden about myself my whole life. And they get it. They understand. They don't think I'm dirty or nasty or any of the above. It's..... liberating.
I love my life. I love my apartment. I love my job. I love my city.
And yet.
Somewhere inside of me is an echoing void.
That I am no longer partially filling in with the likes of half-assed men.
And the yawning silence terrifies me.
No Cam.
No Scott.
No Marc.
I have the life I've always dreamed of. So, why am I not dancing with joy at all times? Why do I need a dick to feel complete?
Why does a phone with no missed calls and no text messages make my heart plummet?
How will I ever be enough?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brunch With Spatch
I am early because.... I am always early. It's what I do. I head to Alice's Tea Cup anyway, knowing it will be busy and thinking I can put our name down to alleviate some of the wait time. While I am standing at the counter, waiting to give my name and watching the hostess have a nervous breakdown, I turn around to see Spatch behind me. She is also early, also hoping to put our name down. I am ridiculously pleased to find someone else who shares my penchant for timeliness.
We talk until we are seated. Discuss what we will order. Then eagerly wait for our tea and scones and crepes and eggs benedict. I see a man walk through the door, who looks vaguely familiar. I noticed that he carried a bicycle wheel in his hand and it clicks in my head that this is The Redhead, Spatch's boyfriend, who I have never met, but feel as if I know intimately. We had not planned on him coming, Spatch had invited him, but hadn't heard from him. We were at a table for two, and adding another chair to our tiny table makes us a fire hazard. Before I can even suggest just moving to another table, The Redhead has decided to leave. No bitterness at all, quite friendly about it actually, just a simple acceptance of how things are. The whole exchange was short and not at all unpleasant.
But I can see the disappointment in Spatch's face. When he had appeared at our table, she lit up. Her love for him on her face as clear to me as the sun shining outside. And when he leaned to kiss her as he left, I could see it in her kiss, so much emotion behind such a simple action. I almost had to turn away, almost embarrassed to be witnessing such a soul-baring moment.
"Jealous" isn't quite the right word, but its the first one that comes to mind.
We re-group. And we talk. And talk.
The earl gray tea is delicious, and we litter the table with empty sugar packets before we have to ask for more.
I am content in her presence. I confide in her that behind my sexual bravado is a bevy of insecurities. I tell her my fantasies. She discusses with me the various forms of bondage and how she handles each one.
We discuss our pasts. Frankly. I love the way that when Spatch likes something about you, she will tell you immediately. She has no guile when giving praise or compliments and they flow naturally from her mouth, without an ounce of insincerity. Her honesty and candor is refreshing and endearing.
I find myself telling her about Scott. And the raw emotion that he stirred up in me, and I am practically sobbing as I recount my moments with him. Those moments that were heartbreakingly special at the time, but now seem like such a waste of my affections.
Two pots of tea and an insane amount of sugar consumption later, and we have to leave. She has appointments to keep and I am meeting Karen to help Sephora reap more and more profits every year.
We discuss all the things we want to do together in the future. Sleepovers in Harlem. Restaurants to try. Bars to go to. Parties to attend.
"Ecstatic" isn't quite the right word, but it's the first one that comes to mind.
Today's Title from: Fidelity by Regina Spektor
I stayed busy all weekend. Almost no down time at all. Movies, volunteering, dinner, parties, brunch (more about this below), shopping and Oscars.
I have everything I could want. I couldn't ask for more. Really.
I have really, really, really great friends. I feel so lucky, every day, to have the friends that I have. I can tell them things, the things that I've hidden about myself my whole life. And they get it. They understand. They don't think I'm dirty or nasty or any of the above. It's..... liberating.
I love my life. I love my apartment. I love my job. I love my city.
And yet.
Somewhere inside of me is an echoing void.
That I am no longer partially filling in with the likes of half-assed men.
And the yawning silence terrifies me.
No Cam.
No Scott.
No Marc.
I have the life I've always dreamed of. So, why am I not dancing with joy at all times? Why do I need a dick to feel complete?
Why does a phone with no missed calls and no text messages make my heart plummet?
How will I ever be enough?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Brunch With Spatch
I am early because.... I am always early. It's what I do. I head to Alice's Tea Cup anyway, knowing it will be busy and thinking I can put our name down to alleviate some of the wait time. While I am standing at the counter, waiting to give my name and watching the hostess have a nervous breakdown, I turn around to see Spatch behind me. She is also early, also hoping to put our name down. I am ridiculously pleased to find someone else who shares my penchant for timeliness.
We talk until we are seated. Discuss what we will order. Then eagerly wait for our tea and scones and crepes and eggs benedict. I see a man walk through the door, who looks vaguely familiar. I noticed that he carried a bicycle wheel in his hand and it clicks in my head that this is The Redhead, Spatch's boyfriend, who I have never met, but feel as if I know intimately. We had not planned on him coming, Spatch had invited him, but hadn't heard from him. We were at a table for two, and adding another chair to our tiny table makes us a fire hazard. Before I can even suggest just moving to another table, The Redhead has decided to leave. No bitterness at all, quite friendly about it actually, just a simple acceptance of how things are. The whole exchange was short and not at all unpleasant.
But I can see the disappointment in Spatch's face. When he had appeared at our table, she lit up. Her love for him on her face as clear to me as the sun shining outside. And when he leaned to kiss her as he left, I could see it in her kiss, so much emotion behind such a simple action. I almost had to turn away, almost embarrassed to be witnessing such a soul-baring moment.
"Jealous" isn't quite the right word, but its the first one that comes to mind.
We re-group. And we talk. And talk.
The earl gray tea is delicious, and we litter the table with empty sugar packets before we have to ask for more.
I am content in her presence. I confide in her that behind my sexual bravado is a bevy of insecurities. I tell her my fantasies. She discusses with me the various forms of bondage and how she handles each one.
We discuss our pasts. Frankly. I love the way that when Spatch likes something about you, she will tell you immediately. She has no guile when giving praise or compliments and they flow naturally from her mouth, without an ounce of insincerity. Her honesty and candor is refreshing and endearing.
I find myself telling her about Scott. And the raw emotion that he stirred up in me, and I am practically sobbing as I recount my moments with him. Those moments that were heartbreakingly special at the time, but now seem like such a waste of my affections.
Two pots of tea and an insane amount of sugar consumption later, and we have to leave. She has appointments to keep and I am meeting Karen to help Sephora reap more and more profits every year.
We discuss all the things we want to do together in the future. Sleepovers in Harlem. Restaurants to try. Bars to go to. Parties to attend.
"Ecstatic" isn't quite the right word, but it's the first one that comes to mind.
Today's Title from: Fidelity by Regina Spektor
Labels: Spatch
