Forget

It's seems like a lot of things in my life lately are challenging me to let the past go. I've had feelings come up that I thought were dead and buried rise like extras in The Walking Dead. My 30-something self is fighting battles my 20-something self never won. I know it's bad when I hear the German version of 99 Red Balloons in this all-night coffee place and I start to cry. "Hab' 'nen Luftballon gefunden. Denk' an dich und lass' ihn fliegen..."

So last entry I was telling you how fucked I was. In the emotional sense, not the physical, unfortunately.

That night, Big Heartbreaker and I did NOT share the bed. He thought it'd be best not to tempt fate. My friend who was in the area came and met me at the hotel bar and BH kindly offered up his side of the bed for her so the two of us could have time to catch up properly. The party moved to the bride & groom's suite after we'd shut that down. It was a late night. And early morning.

I had felt that everything changed that night before, but as we took the long road back to NYC, I overheard a conversation BH was having with his girlfriend that he had "broken up" with while we made a pit stop. We sat in the back of the car and he acted like he wanted to hide it, but didn't. He was asking her what she wanted to have for dinner when he returned- "Should I make lamb chops?" He hung up and I just stared at him. He got defensive as I said nothing. This pretty much summed up our whatever-we-were-doing for the next few months.

I began to pour all of my feelings into journals. Pages and pages. I feel so sorry for The Lead in All the Plays in College who had to live with me during that time. Because discussing anything upfront with BH was way out of the question according to the silent code of the Straight Theatre Guy Crew, she got the brunt of my chaotic emotional life. I am embarrassed when I look back at it. Mainly because I was soooo suuuure. There was no doubt in my mind that it would all work itself out. And I guess it has. Just not in the way I desperately wanted it to.

After a few months, all of the super-analyzing of BH data became exhausting and I began to crave distance. Especially when his ex finally DID move out and I would be privy to dude conversations amongst the STGC about how much pussy BH was getting now that she was gone. Now, these guys were always leaving town for gigs and inevitably would have a "Going Away Party" liiiike, once a month it seemed. A Brother from Another Mothah was leaving next, so I decided I needed to make an appearance. It was one of those fun Midtown nights where everyone in the ten block radius was at the same bar yet BH & I managed to talk in the middle of the roar. "You haven't been around much," he said. "Yeah, and now that ABFAM is going out of town, I guess I'll really NEVER see you, huh?" "Why do say that?" "Well, you'd have to make a plan with meeee, you know, to seeee me." He kind of huffed at the challenge.

I didn't see him for weeks.

Then a text. On Valentine's Day.

I'd worn all black to work because I like to call Valentine's Day "Black Friday" or "Black Whatever the Day of the Week It Falls On." Valentine's Day and I are not friends. The only sign of hope I wore was a small silver heart that at closer look, was in two pieces around my neck. I received the text while at the office and it seemed like it was to a group but I wasn't sure. I didn't really give a fuck, actually.

When I met up with BH at a bar downtown, it was just the two of us after all. He made a comment about trying to reach some of the guys to hang out...but something in his tone sounded like a lie. Like he saw the look on my face when he was by himself and he had to make excuses. I don't doubt that I rolled my eyes just a little at it.

We got to the end of the bar early and held it up until very very late. God, I loved having him to myself. Our conversation flowed like great music: topics that were sweet where we agreed and then turning sharp when we didn't, but always smart and playfully respectful. He made me laugh like no other and equally outraged in the next moment. I was always defending a line of thinking or set of beliefs with him. We had round after round. I got braver with my incidental touching and of course he had to comment on it. "Oh, you're getting a little touchy feely, aren't you now?" he said with a twinkle in his Irish eyes. I blushed into my shoulder, blissfully happy. It was his birthday at midnight and we made a toast to the year ahead. I silently thanked God that he was born. I was unable to hide behind any Cool Girl cover at this point. I beamed unabashedly. While he made his way to the restroom, I asked the bartender to let me take care of the bill. She smiled at me and took my credit card. He sat back down on the stool next to me and I couldn't help but reach up and play with his hair. He took my hand, leaned in, and made the offer I wish I had fully understood and believed when he put it on the table:

"We can be good friends for the next 20, 30 years or...you can come home with me now."

I said, "I wanna come home with you," without missing a beat. He kissed me hard.

Then he exploded with an outpouring of confessions. That he'd never met anyone like me, that we have this thing between us that is so easy and yet so challenging and so right, that I finished thoughts for him and him for me and that he loved me and wished that he wasn't the way he was right now....

I have to admit, my mind tripped at the 'loved me' part. It was all too much. He was basically saying all of the things I felt, and they were like a giant wave crashing over me. I was completely overwhelmed.

The check came and the girl charged me for maybe 4 drinks. I think we drank 14 between us. I tipped her as ridiculously as she undercharged us and when I passed the check back to her, she winked.  We stumbled into a cab and BH just realized that he had nothing to do with taking care of the bar tab. "Ssshhhh, don't worry I got it. Happy Birthday." "But I had a thousand drinks..." "She charged us for four." And we both said at the same time, the same exact way, "She totally wanted me." Then we laughed until we cried and kissed and cuddled and I couldn't wrap my head around this actually happening.

He was extra kind as we crossed his threshold, turning into the guy nervous about showing his apartment for the first time. In the kitchen, he asked if I was hungry and I said I'd have whatever he was making and he made us a PB&J sandwich to share with the last of his jelly. "I gave you the side with more jelly," he said with a huge smile on his face, looking like a five year old. We talked some more and it is hazy but I do remember me bringing up my combative nature. "I guess growing up with brothers, I always associate fighting with love. Fighting somehow means loving to me." I stared at him, hoping he understood, praying he could read between the lines. And he replied, "You know the best way not to fight, though? Just chose not to."

He dragged me into his bedroom and gave me some of his comfy clothes to wear that didn't stay on too long. We ended up on the living room floor laying on blankets and pillows like a real sleepover. We passed out in each others arms but I woke up on what felt like the other side of the Universe, by myself, staring at his sleeping face from afar. It was early and I had to get to Brooklyn Heights from his place in Queens to work. I became all business, sneaking away to get back into my work clothes, mentally preparing for the walk of shame across three boroughs. I got him a glass of water and gently touched him just to let him know I was leaving. He was hurting from the ten martinis and seemed really confused. "You're leaving?" I nodded. "Work." "Stay a bit..." "I can't. I'm already late." "Okay..." "You need to sleep, Birthday Boy. Talk to you later?" "Yeah, okay."

I worked the longest shift ever, head in overdrive, still in last night's black clothes. I was excited but still unsure. All of those things he said...how could I doubt now? I'd HEARD it, for Christ's Sake. But he was really drunk and I had butterflies galore and felt like I could play this very badly if I wasn't careful.

No word from him all day so I got cleaned up after work and met up with a friend on 54th between Eighth Ave. & Broadway. While I was waiting on the street, my phone rang.

"Well, hiiiiii."
"Excuse me, was I naked with you last night? Is that what happened?"
"Why, yes, Sir, I think I may have been naked and on your floor until this morning."
A firetruck siren from down the street loudly blares. It flies up Eighth Ave.
"Is that a firetruck going by you? Where are you?"
"54th & Eighth."
"That's funny. That's where I am in my car. That truck just passed me by."
"So what you're saying is that when you decided to call me, we just so happen to be in the same place?"
"Yeah. That's weird. Like it's meant to be or something."
"Yeah. It is."

And that was the last time I felt so sure about us.

...to be continued...