My throat is tight. My larynx feels like is has a hand around it, just squeezing. I think it's because it's saving my heart from just shattering.
I've meant to write about the Dreadlocked Tattooed Stoner for a while... he's been around for abooout... 2 years now? That seems insane to me. So much of what we've been through feels like yesterday. I want to write about the good times, about all he's done to get me to open up, be free, take chances. Right now, though... the 15 year old in me wants to call all my friends and yell, "Can you believe he did THIS?!" And then spill all the tea. And message his new girl on social media.
I realize these are not good instincts. Nothing good can come from acting on them.
I feel like even acting on my impulse to send an olive branch in his direction was a stupid thing to do.
But at least I got my answer, right? In a "New phone, who dis?" text, but I GOT IT.
And I'm still choking.
********************
It's hard to be in my apartment because he is everywhere. On the couch, on the kitchen table (my favorite), in my bed on that first night that turned into two days...
I am hyper-aware I have arrested development in this area. Being naked with someone has never come easily to me. When I have gotten brave enough to do it, I managed all smoke and mirrors, darkness and sheets, positions and hiding places to somehow get the guy I was with to completely forget I was fat. Because I always thought I tricked them into being naked with me.
Every. Single. Time.
Until DTS.
He looked at me through glass, saw me through the camera's lens as I shed old ideas about myself during the vodcast I co-host alllll about being plus-sized in this world. I talked about being single a LOT. Especially since My Co-Host was married and I wanted to KNOW ALL THE THINGS. There was a freedom to being live on the air and sending these ideas about myself floating away on waves where they didn't have to be buried deep inside any more. I could even LAUGH about it, which really was extraordinary and freeing. And DTS was in the control room, watching so closely and carefully at such a safe distance.
I was genuinely oblivious to anyone being attracted to me at this time. Just without a clue. We talked about often during the show. It was like I had actual blinders on. Any vibes were not getting through my force field. Which is whyyy when My Co-Host first brought DTS up to me, I was thrown.
Outside in the Studio Parking Lot, Night:
MCH: DTS likes you.
Me: Whaaaa?! Why do you think that?
MCH: Didn't you hear what he said?
Me: Hear WHAT? What are you TALKing about?!
MCH: You really didn't hear? At all?!
Me: Noooo...
MCH: He said he thought your green eyes were pretty. I thought it was weird you didn't say anything...
Me: Are you SERIOUS? When did this happen?!
MCH: After the show, at the step and repeat!
Scene.
Guys. I was not kidding; I literally heard not a word that DTS said to me. Shut. Down. So now I feel a little awkward because, although this is a passion project, it felt like a job, albeit, a loosey-goosey office where people smoke weed and pop open a beer but we took it VERY SERIOUSLY. I didn't want to seem like I was an office hussy. I know, I know, insane in hindsight, but I kept my cards to my chest. But I couldn't help but taking DTS in in a different way. I'd start to linger on the tattoos on his forearms or how his collarbone popped out of the stretched out collar of his well-worn tee, or the difference in his dreads when they were down and flopping over his light brown eyes or pulled back and showed off his well-kept full beard that framed his beautiful lips. I felt his eyes linger on me when we recorded; I caught glances at him during commercial breaks, and when I made him laugh through the glass...well, that was as close to girl-wood as I could get.
Then a few weeks later I had THIS conversation with MCH:
Outside Studio Parking Lot, Night:
MCH: DTS wants to fuck you.
Me: *spits out water mid-swallow* WHAAAT?!
MCH: He wants to fuck you.
Me: You have lost your mind!
MCH: Did you NOT see what he did?!
Me: OBviously not!
MCH: While you were changing your shoes, and talking about how tense you were and saying that you "just needed someone to go down on you for an hour" so you could "relax"... he totally raised his hand. HIGH. VERY HIGH.
Me: SHUT. IT.
MCH: He did
Me: He did NOT.
MCH: He sure did! You didn't see?!
Me: NO.
MCH: You reeeeally have a problem. (Beat.) And could tooootally hit that.
And, scene.
My mind was going a million miles a minute. Is this a THING? A thing I could DO?! DTS was hot. It wasn't about that. It was about him knowing all this stuff about me, just saying all these things and someone seeing me, the me with the guards down, admitting she was fat, and pretty sexless, and stunted in so many ways because of hating myself... and he still wanted to sleep with me? That was very, very hard to accept as true. I decided to use my old-school tactics- I would woo him with obvious gestures!
His birthday was the next week. With the help of a friend who was in town visiting, I got him birthday cake as a surprise. He definitely was. He seemed really embarrassed. When we were alone he asked, "Did MCH's husband get this? You didn't get this." I went full Philly on him, "I fuggin' got it. It's from ME." He laughed and believed me, but he was still buzzed from the night before so who the fuck knows what was actually happening.
The next week we had to pre-tape because there was a huge party to celebrate marijuana becoming legal in California and all of the shows on the network were invited. Lots of music, free booze and edibles to go round. It was a rooftop party, and it was beautiful weather, so I went in a skimpy black lace skirt with a slouchy, off the shoulder black tee and my thigh high, black platform stiletto boots, that were as rock-n-roll as you can get. I had never, ever dressed this way at the studio; DTS had only seen me in cute vintage dresses and let's just say... more covered up. I felt hot. And literally went just to see him.
Had to walk up three and a half flights in fuck-me heels which ain't easy but once on to the roof, the view of the clear Hollywood sky was amazing and the party was so lit, it made the burn in my quads worth it. I scanned the room for friends and my eyes landed on DTS who was directly in front of me, leaning on the far wall, in a very sexy put-together rocker look, tattoos out, looking HELLA foine. I tried to be cool (CUZ YOU KNOW THAT I LOVE TO DO THAT) and avoided him to find friends deep in the crowd. Tables of free weed products were abound, the bar was open and the cover band was loud. Everyone was having a great time. I talked to more people on the network than I ever had in the 10 weeks prior; the vibe was loose and I definitely was feeling myself. And not at all feeling like this was a "work" event.
Eventually, MCH dragged DTS over to where a crowd of us were hanging and he and I quickly were next to each other, privately chatting. I don't remember what we talked about exactly, but I know I felt free and flirty and was definitely giving him a hard time. Several dudes interrupted us and were close-talking, high and drunk and well-meaning but DTS and I just kept looking at each other while some guy called MCH & I "an inspiration" and swore he was gonna do his sports vodcast one day soon.
Now, I got there late because of a survival job, and had to park far. Well, LA far. Like, two and a half long blocks! Ha. And my people knew this and were talking about wrapping it up and wanting to walk me to my car. The party had spilled onto several floors of the building and I guess everyone was somewhere else but I thought they ditched me. I SWEAR. So, I batted my smoky eyes at DTS, "Could you walk me to me car? And more importantly, down the friggin' stairs?!" He gave one of those quick throaty laughs and said, "Of course."
He took my arm old-timey style and literally made sure I did not break my neck on the way down; once we were on Santa Monica Blvd., we strolled, still touching, hands eventually intertwining. We got deep quickly. MCH had given him a talk about coming to the show too messed up to do a good job; I told you, we were verrrry serrrious about it! He felt bad about it and wanted to be better. I told him that our plan was to take the show as far as we could and wanted to take the people who made it work with us and that I wanted him on that list. Then we got personal. Then we got sexual. He made some quiet comment about taking me behind the vintage car wash we were passing by "in those boots." I slapped his arm for being cheeky but secretly wished that we would. But we didn't. I pass by that car wash often and have regrets that we never did.
We made it to my car and he surprised me. Because I thought we were headed for a messy make-out sesh on the hood of my car like a White Snake video. But he held back. He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. My body was on fire and he did the forehead kiss?! I thought maybe I made up everything in my mind. No forehead kiss had ever meant good things to come for me, EVER.
But there was something in his smirk, a glimmer in his eyes that told me he was holding back because he wanted to prolong something, not avoid something.
As I swung my legs covered in leather into my car and watched his swagger drifting back down Santa Monica, I thought, "Oh, it's on, Mother Fucker."
Wednesday, March 13, 2019
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Attach
He got married. That fast. He got married. I tell myself it's all for the best and then I remember-
HE GOT MARRIED.
This is The Carpenter. The one I decided I couldn't be friends with...for a minute. I went away for a quite a few weeks, flirted with a Young Man on a Horrible Gig with Me while 2000 miles away from L.A. and came back thinking: "It's okay. I can reach out! It's better."
We played phone tag and The Carpenter's messages were wrought with I-have-to-tell-you-something. We finally connected. "I want to tell you in person," he said on the phone. "Just tell me now!" I insisted. "Jesus. It's all good."
After reconnecting with his serious high-school sweetheart back east, he decided to see if they could give their relationship another chance. She agreed whole-heartedly that they should and the plan was made for them to drive across country over the summer and move in with him. "Them" included a daughter who is a senior in high school.
Are you back? Because I'm sure that took a min to soak in.
As the words hit my ear, I definitely choked up. And I was mad that I did. It wasn't a full-on sob. It was a catch in the throat. I don't know if he even caught it. I muscled through the rest of the conversation, asking questions to keep it light and airy. When I hung up, I did cry for, like, two minutes, fast and furious. And then I prayed for perspective. Actual insight. I wanted to know what to take away from this whole thing.
And the answer came. I thought back to the first time I inquired about TC. We had been giving each other a hard time in a production meeting; it was fun and flirty and I took it...pretty far! I asked a friend who was at the meeting about him: "Is he married or have a girlfriend or attached in any way, because, if so, I am being wildly inappropriate with him." She laughed and said, "No, I don't think so. But I'm not sure. You should find out!"
And I should have. I mean, I guess I did. The reason why this is such a revelation to me is because I somehow knew in my gut he was not available from the get-go. I knew he had given his heart away already. Initial instinct. Very strong. This gave me so much relief and actually got me to being genuinely happy for him almost immediately. I was able to see him without drama over the next few months, but things did shift. The innuendo in our talks disappeared. No more calls after 11pm. Even compliments changed in tone. And I knew that those last weeks before the momentous cross-country caravan were a fiery friendship fizzling out into ash.
Summer was busy. I traveled; he traveled with his new family and finally I saw him at our theatre's monthly company meeting. He called ahead to tell me he'd gone to City Hall to make it official before they took off. It prepared me for the shiny gold band on his tanned left hand. Sort of. Wasn't even a year after I'd asked, "Is he attached in any way...?"
We don't speak at all now, really. Only run-ins at the theatre. I miss him. Can't lie about that.
But I have been working on Full On Jersey Italian's challenge to make this the Year of the Sexual Revolution. The Young Man on a Horrible Gig with Me? We finally were on the same coast. It was easy and fun and nice to know I didn't have to work hard to have someone interested in me. It was CLEAR. (Hallelu!) He slept over. Thank GOD. I have not kissed a guy since I moved- FOUR YEARS AGO. The Drought has ended.
It was a relief to feel grown and not like some kind of adolescent, fumbling. I was even honest about the 4 years and he was considerate enough to ask me if it was weird at all. It wasn't! I felt really confident and happy and sexy and like a fucking catch. Ha!
Of course, I have to fight my instinct to care-take and connect. YMoHGwM and I had a very deep conversation about family and there was something he was working through. I just haaaad to call and see how the situation was going; left a voice mail and was responded to with a text. "Sorry I didn't pick up last night..." Youngins like the texts.
Yeah. So, I am trying to get to a place where that is okay; I can be naked with someone and then not be their best buddy. It is OKAY. I certainly don't need to mother someone from 2000 miles away. Hit it and quit it does exist, Cool Girl!!
I have a lot of places I'm going all across the country until the end of the year. Let's see how many of them are for Lovahs...
HE GOT MARRIED.
This is The Carpenter. The one I decided I couldn't be friends with...for a minute. I went away for a quite a few weeks, flirted with a Young Man on a Horrible Gig with Me while 2000 miles away from L.A. and came back thinking: "It's okay. I can reach out! It's better."
We played phone tag and The Carpenter's messages were wrought with I-have-to-tell-you-something. We finally connected. "I want to tell you in person," he said on the phone. "Just tell me now!" I insisted. "Jesus. It's all good."
After reconnecting with his serious high-school sweetheart back east, he decided to see if they could give their relationship another chance. She agreed whole-heartedly that they should and the plan was made for them to drive across country over the summer and move in with him. "Them" included a daughter who is a senior in high school.
Are you back? Because I'm sure that took a min to soak in.
As the words hit my ear, I definitely choked up. And I was mad that I did. It wasn't a full-on sob. It was a catch in the throat. I don't know if he even caught it. I muscled through the rest of the conversation, asking questions to keep it light and airy. When I hung up, I did cry for, like, two minutes, fast and furious. And then I prayed for perspective. Actual insight. I wanted to know what to take away from this whole thing.
And the answer came. I thought back to the first time I inquired about TC. We had been giving each other a hard time in a production meeting; it was fun and flirty and I took it...pretty far! I asked a friend who was at the meeting about him: "Is he married or have a girlfriend or attached in any way, because, if so, I am being wildly inappropriate with him." She laughed and said, "No, I don't think so. But I'm not sure. You should find out!"
And I should have. I mean, I guess I did. The reason why this is such a revelation to me is because I somehow knew in my gut he was not available from the get-go. I knew he had given his heart away already. Initial instinct. Very strong. This gave me so much relief and actually got me to being genuinely happy for him almost immediately. I was able to see him without drama over the next few months, but things did shift. The innuendo in our talks disappeared. No more calls after 11pm. Even compliments changed in tone. And I knew that those last weeks before the momentous cross-country caravan were a fiery friendship fizzling out into ash.
Summer was busy. I traveled; he traveled with his new family and finally I saw him at our theatre's monthly company meeting. He called ahead to tell me he'd gone to City Hall to make it official before they took off. It prepared me for the shiny gold band on his tanned left hand. Sort of. Wasn't even a year after I'd asked, "Is he attached in any way...?"
We don't speak at all now, really. Only run-ins at the theatre. I miss him. Can't lie about that.
But I have been working on Full On Jersey Italian's challenge to make this the Year of the Sexual Revolution. The Young Man on a Horrible Gig with Me? We finally were on the same coast. It was easy and fun and nice to know I didn't have to work hard to have someone interested in me. It was CLEAR. (Hallelu!) He slept over. Thank GOD. I have not kissed a guy since I moved- FOUR YEARS AGO. The Drought has ended.
It was a relief to feel grown and not like some kind of adolescent, fumbling. I was even honest about the 4 years and he was considerate enough to ask me if it was weird at all. It wasn't! I felt really confident and happy and sexy and like a fucking catch. Ha!
Of course, I have to fight my instinct to care-take and connect. YMoHGwM and I had a very deep conversation about family and there was something he was working through. I just haaaad to call and see how the situation was going; left a voice mail and was responded to with a text. "Sorry I didn't pick up last night..." Youngins like the texts.
Yeah. So, I am trying to get to a place where that is okay; I can be naked with someone and then not be their best buddy. It is OKAY. I certainly don't need to mother someone from 2000 miles away. Hit it and quit it does exist, Cool Girl!!
I have a lot of places I'm going all across the country until the end of the year. Let's see how many of them are for Lovahs...
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Karma
I didn't waaant to have another Cool Girl entry IN me. I wanted to believe I had evolved PAST her mess and become something truthful and out of the shadows and forthcoming. No need for an online confessional. I mainly didn't want to write about The Carpenter because I wanted to protect him, I think. But what just happened is something that is too good not to share and too awful to feel on my own. So, I'm draggin' y'all with me, Peeps!
I'll start at the end.
I hadn't seen Improv Barbie in a minute. I love her. She listens to my bullshit about this guy alllll the tiiime because we produced a show together that he was The Carpenter for which is how we met. She's been a witness to the shenanigans (you knooow how important those are to me!). I was sitting in her car talking about him on the way home from a strange errand which involved going to a shady part of Downtown LA. As I began to tell her an elaborate, dramatic story about why I was trying to distance myself from him, he texteded. And called. And then apparently, I called him back without knowing. And he was left with an 8 minute vivid conversation about my feelings about him on his voice mail.
I meeeeeeeeannnnn, reeeeallllly.
He called BACK and left me ANOTHER voice mail, completely amused that he got to hear the entire tirade. My heart sank into my belly and I laughed through panic, panicked through astonishment that Karma could ACTually be that swift when kicking you in the gut.
So, I loved this man. Love this man, actually. Which is the whole problem. I've been straight up with him during almost our entire friendship about my feelings for more than friendship and we continued our flirty friendship as I hoped one day things would progress even though after being up front with him I got a lot of stuttering and a big "I'm Confuuused" from him. The following is what I was telling Improv Barbie about- how I finally broke.
I was out of town for a minute and came back, got a new haircut and a highlight and had a great audition within the first few days or returning. I talked to TC about it and asked if he was free to read my sides with me. He's a good actor and I had to work out how much physicality I had to do because the scene was me teaching a guy how to country line dance. It was a sexy lil scene. And in all honesty, I wanted to do the scene with him because I'm a masochistic asshole. He said he might have time the next day so hit him up in the afternoon to see if he was done with work early. And I did that. And he said he had a meeting in Hollywood later and couldn't. But I knew that because that was part of the equation when we talked the day before. And so I Really?! Reeeally?!-d him in texts and left a voice mail explaining how I was just 10 mins away from him and my audition was close to him and- wait- did you forget? You forgot. You tooootally forgot that I asked you about it. (That's pretty much how it went.) He called me back and was all "I had a crazy day and my nephew wants me to do something for him and blah blah blah". I said, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?! I totally could've gotten someone else to read but now to get someone on the West Side ain't gonna happen...you forgot, didn't you?" Silence. "Yes, I forgot." "Okay, great. I'll go then and try to get someone now." Click. Yes, I hung up like a bitch. And he called me back before I could call other actor friends and cried,"Did you just hang up on me?!" I denied for a second but then I admitted I did because I had to FIND someone quick since he wasn't able and then he said, "Come over and let's do it." So I did.
It's always nice to see him. I hate how nice it is. We hug. I can't really hug him; I don't trust any of it. I don't know how I'm actually going to do this scene without being a wreck. I give him Strawberry Rhubarb Jam from my trip and he makes us sandwiches. It's so easy being with him; I hate myself for wanting more the entire time I'm with him. Being friends would be easy and for a really long time. I manage to shake it off and get down to business and we rehearse. And I'm being my flirty self and get the giggles and he comments about it and I ask to start over and we do and it's good, too good, like for-reals-not-for-fake good and all of a sudden he asks about the breakdown of the character. And I say what I remember: that she's a warm, friendly person who likes the guy right away and really confident about herself. He then suggests that I don't be so giggly flirty "like you actually are" but more direct in my intentions. I do it again but am in my head and really don't do anything at all. So he gets up and wants to do the scene FOR me, like MY part. I said, "Ooookaaay..." and then he did it and was very physical and...clear about what he wanted. I had a moment of WTF in my head and then went to my email and read the description out loud. We both were pretty sure what it was supposed to be, which was my first instinct and he said, "Never mind, never mind, you were right, do what you were doing, do you." After a few more times, I left and walked out thinking, "Whaaaat was THAT?!"
Becausssse I couldn't help but think about it as some kind of personal criticism about how I "am" with flirting. I'm all up in my head about what he actually thinks about my intentions- is it all just fun times? Even though I have SAID OUT LOUD that I feel something more and what I would like to do with him? And then as I'm sitting in the car waiting to go into my audition, I realize it's NOT fun for me. It's not. It hurts. So I'm trying to get my head together for this audition and I manage to be fiiiine but admittedly a bit distracted and I can't afford to be. Because choosing to do this shit is already too hard to be even a little off my game. And maybe that's why I haven't had a serious relationship ever in the first place. And I decide I'm done in that moment. But it wasn't soooo easy; I needed a 5 hour heart to heart with Full Out Jersey Italian to put the nail in the coffin. I was going to pull it back. I was going to not respond. AND I wasn't going to make a big deal about it up on a soap box. I wasn't going to tell him. I was just gonna DO it.
And this...is what he heard...on the 8 minute voice mail.
Can you even FUCKING imagine?
I text him this:
Horrified.
Jenny was with me.
Have to prepare for an audition.
Can I scrape up some dignity and call you later?
He responded that I shouldn't be horrified and of course I can call. He's going into the chiropractor.
And I went to my audition and was a brilliant FUCKED UP mess of an actor. The casting director laughed and then asked if I was multi-ethnic. I said, "Because I have an Asian-Persuasion Eye?" I managed to bring the comedy even under stress, Folks!
I called TC and left a janky voice mail that ended with me singing "AWWWK-WARRRD!"
He called back and we caught up while laughing, him all jolly and shit; me like I wanted to kill myself. He was fine, too fine, I wanted him to be less fine, less okay with hearing how I felt. I even said at one point, "You're being TOO okay, I hate it!" And then I said, "Is there anything you want to discuss about the voice mail?" He laughed and said, "Noooo, do yoooou?" "I think my feelings were pretty clear on the message you heard." "Would you rather I not tell you I heard it?" "NO, no, I'm glad you did. Really glad. Not that you heard but that you TOLD me that you heard." And then as I navigated through the conversation with him I came up to, "I was being dramatic because my feelings are hurt." "They are?" "Yeah, TC, they are." "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings." "You don't hurt my feelings, that's why this is so hard because you are just doing you and we are just in two different places and want different things and it hurts. It's no one's fault. But I can't keep going through it I tried to pull away without even making an announcement about it, I just wanted to slip away and my EGO CAN'T EVEN LET ME HAVE THAT. I CAN'T EVEN BE COOL." "You have been cool. You are cool." Silence. Because I sure didn't feel cool.
We tried some more small talk and then I made the move to get off of the phone. He said one last time, "I'm so sorry your feelings are hurt," and I replied with silence, enough silence for him to say, "Hello?" and for me to say, "I'm still here." More silence. I managed, "I'll see you around." "I'll talk to you soon?" Definitely a question to which I replied, "I'll see ya around."
I hung up with my heart in my throat not able to cry but not able to hear anything else but the blood rushing in my ears.
I sit here in the Starbucks thinking about all the wonderful things he's brought to my life...things kinda started on my birthday, did I mention that? It was a Big One for me and I had a BBQ and he took care of me that night so beautifully, every time I had a drink 3/4 finished I had a new one from him, any time someone asked me where something was he ran and got it instead so that I could be with people. I am so grateful to have the feeling of being taken care of like that, even for a night. But he did it often for me in these last few months, especially while I was producing the show. We talked dirty on the phone many of those late nights, making us both laugh and blush for hours sometimes. When he came to see the show, I wrote down all of the things I appreciated about him on a card as a thank you...it was a real vulnerable thing for me to do. I'm having a bit of a Lloyd Dobbler moment..."Nuke it. Destroy it. It hurts me to know it's out there."
But I can't be like that because I love him. And it fucking sucks a bag of dicks.
I have to say, FOJI had the best advice during our epic hang: "2014 has gotta be the Year of the Sexual Revolution for you. You gotta stop falling in love and start fucking."
It's my new mantra.
I'll start at the end.
I hadn't seen Improv Barbie in a minute. I love her. She listens to my bullshit about this guy alllll the tiiime because we produced a show together that he was The Carpenter for which is how we met. She's been a witness to the shenanigans (you knooow how important those are to me!). I was sitting in her car talking about him on the way home from a strange errand which involved going to a shady part of Downtown LA. As I began to tell her an elaborate, dramatic story about why I was trying to distance myself from him, he texteded. And called. And then apparently, I called him back without knowing. And he was left with an 8 minute vivid conversation about my feelings about him on his voice mail.
I meeeeeeeeannnnn, reeeeallllly.
He called BACK and left me ANOTHER voice mail, completely amused that he got to hear the entire tirade. My heart sank into my belly and I laughed through panic, panicked through astonishment that Karma could ACTually be that swift when kicking you in the gut.
So, I loved this man. Love this man, actually. Which is the whole problem. I've been straight up with him during almost our entire friendship about my feelings for more than friendship and we continued our flirty friendship as I hoped one day things would progress even though after being up front with him I got a lot of stuttering and a big "I'm Confuuused" from him. The following is what I was telling Improv Barbie about- how I finally broke.
I was out of town for a minute and came back, got a new haircut and a highlight and had a great audition within the first few days or returning. I talked to TC about it and asked if he was free to read my sides with me. He's a good actor and I had to work out how much physicality I had to do because the scene was me teaching a guy how to country line dance. It was a sexy lil scene. And in all honesty, I wanted to do the scene with him because I'm a masochistic asshole. He said he might have time the next day so hit him up in the afternoon to see if he was done with work early. And I did that. And he said he had a meeting in Hollywood later and couldn't. But I knew that because that was part of the equation when we talked the day before. And so I Really?! Reeeally?!-d him in texts and left a voice mail explaining how I was just 10 mins away from him and my audition was close to him and- wait- did you forget? You forgot. You tooootally forgot that I asked you about it. (That's pretty much how it went.) He called me back and was all "I had a crazy day and my nephew wants me to do something for him and blah blah blah". I said, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?! I totally could've gotten someone else to read but now to get someone on the West Side ain't gonna happen...you forgot, didn't you?" Silence. "Yes, I forgot." "Okay, great. I'll go then and try to get someone now." Click. Yes, I hung up like a bitch. And he called me back before I could call other actor friends and cried,"Did you just hang up on me?!" I denied for a second but then I admitted I did because I had to FIND someone quick since he wasn't able and then he said, "Come over and let's do it." So I did.
It's always nice to see him. I hate how nice it is. We hug. I can't really hug him; I don't trust any of it. I don't know how I'm actually going to do this scene without being a wreck. I give him Strawberry Rhubarb Jam from my trip and he makes us sandwiches. It's so easy being with him; I hate myself for wanting more the entire time I'm with him. Being friends would be easy and for a really long time. I manage to shake it off and get down to business and we rehearse. And I'm being my flirty self and get the giggles and he comments about it and I ask to start over and we do and it's good, too good, like for-reals-not-for-fake good and all of a sudden he asks about the breakdown of the character. And I say what I remember: that she's a warm, friendly person who likes the guy right away and really confident about herself. He then suggests that I don't be so giggly flirty "like you actually are" but more direct in my intentions. I do it again but am in my head and really don't do anything at all. So he gets up and wants to do the scene FOR me, like MY part. I said, "Ooookaaay..." and then he did it and was very physical and...clear about what he wanted. I had a moment of WTF in my head and then went to my email and read the description out loud. We both were pretty sure what it was supposed to be, which was my first instinct and he said, "Never mind, never mind, you were right, do what you were doing, do you." After a few more times, I left and walked out thinking, "Whaaaat was THAT?!"
Becausssse I couldn't help but think about it as some kind of personal criticism about how I "am" with flirting. I'm all up in my head about what he actually thinks about my intentions- is it all just fun times? Even though I have SAID OUT LOUD that I feel something more and what I would like to do with him? And then as I'm sitting in the car waiting to go into my audition, I realize it's NOT fun for me. It's not. It hurts. So I'm trying to get my head together for this audition and I manage to be fiiiine but admittedly a bit distracted and I can't afford to be. Because choosing to do this shit is already too hard to be even a little off my game. And maybe that's why I haven't had a serious relationship ever in the first place. And I decide I'm done in that moment. But it wasn't soooo easy; I needed a 5 hour heart to heart with Full Out Jersey Italian to put the nail in the coffin. I was going to pull it back. I was going to not respond. AND I wasn't going to make a big deal about it up on a soap box. I wasn't going to tell him. I was just gonna DO it.
And this...is what he heard...on the 8 minute voice mail.
Can you even FUCKING imagine?
I text him this:
Horrified.
Jenny was with me.
Have to prepare for an audition.
Can I scrape up some dignity and call you later?
He responded that I shouldn't be horrified and of course I can call. He's going into the chiropractor.
And I went to my audition and was a brilliant FUCKED UP mess of an actor. The casting director laughed and then asked if I was multi-ethnic. I said, "Because I have an Asian-Persuasion Eye?" I managed to bring the comedy even under stress, Folks!
I called TC and left a janky voice mail that ended with me singing "AWWWK-WARRRD!"
He called back and we caught up while laughing, him all jolly and shit; me like I wanted to kill myself. He was fine, too fine, I wanted him to be less fine, less okay with hearing how I felt. I even said at one point, "You're being TOO okay, I hate it!" And then I said, "Is there anything you want to discuss about the voice mail?" He laughed and said, "Noooo, do yoooou?" "I think my feelings were pretty clear on the message you heard." "Would you rather I not tell you I heard it?" "NO, no, I'm glad you did. Really glad. Not that you heard but that you TOLD me that you heard." And then as I navigated through the conversation with him I came up to, "I was being dramatic because my feelings are hurt." "They are?" "Yeah, TC, they are." "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings." "You don't hurt my feelings, that's why this is so hard because you are just doing you and we are just in two different places and want different things and it hurts. It's no one's fault. But I can't keep going through it I tried to pull away without even making an announcement about it, I just wanted to slip away and my EGO CAN'T EVEN LET ME HAVE THAT. I CAN'T EVEN BE COOL." "You have been cool. You are cool." Silence. Because I sure didn't feel cool.
We tried some more small talk and then I made the move to get off of the phone. He said one last time, "I'm so sorry your feelings are hurt," and I replied with silence, enough silence for him to say, "Hello?" and for me to say, "I'm still here." More silence. I managed, "I'll see you around." "I'll talk to you soon?" Definitely a question to which I replied, "I'll see ya around."
I hung up with my heart in my throat not able to cry but not able to hear anything else but the blood rushing in my ears.
I sit here in the Starbucks thinking about all the wonderful things he's brought to my life...things kinda started on my birthday, did I mention that? It was a Big One for me and I had a BBQ and he took care of me that night so beautifully, every time I had a drink 3/4 finished I had a new one from him, any time someone asked me where something was he ran and got it instead so that I could be with people. I am so grateful to have the feeling of being taken care of like that, even for a night. But he did it often for me in these last few months, especially while I was producing the show. We talked dirty on the phone many of those late nights, making us both laugh and blush for hours sometimes. When he came to see the show, I wrote down all of the things I appreciated about him on a card as a thank you...it was a real vulnerable thing for me to do. I'm having a bit of a Lloyd Dobbler moment..."Nuke it. Destroy it. It hurts me to know it's out there."
But I can't be like that because I love him. And it fucking sucks a bag of dicks.
I have to say, FOJI had the best advice during our epic hang: "2014 has gotta be the Year of the Sexual Revolution for you. You gotta stop falling in love and start fucking."
It's my new mantra.
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