‘I wonder if I’ll live long enough to feel again’

Well, I have an entry title. Y’all didn’t actually want content to go along with it, now did you? ‘Cause I ain’t got it tonight. (Stop cheering!)

I’ve gotten to a point in my head where I’ve intellectualized everything that has been going on. I do that — it’s probably a coping mechanism. My comfort comes from reaching a place in my mind where I can give a very-logical explanation for things that have transpired. (Even if I don’t fully believe it.)

It’s a very eerie talent to not only step outside of situations and talk about them like they happened to somebody else, but to feel like I wasn’t actually a part of them when they took place.

Always the storyteller, I guess.

Speaking of stories, I remembered an old story of when I was dating A. a million years ago. I was a full-fledged pack-a-day smoker then. He hated that. I don’t think he threatened to disown me, but I think I was so enthralled with him that I decided to pretend to quit and let him think he was responsible for it.

I did end up quitting for awhile and he rewarded my various stages of getting through it. And after we stopped dating (apparently evaporating off the fucking planet is an acceptable method — nay, the preferred one — of bowing out. Damn him for beating me to it!), I went straight back to lighting up. No reason not to, I guess.

Not that we would ever acknowledge that anything ever happened. He met his future wife (what a freaking mess she was) and I was just the buddy he met through his volunteer work. And it was that way whether she was within earshot or not — I felt like I had dreamed up the whole thing. Maybe I had. Maybe nothing I’ve experienced in this life is real. I’m seriously beginning to wonder.

But back to A. I remember how, when I knew I would see him, I’d refrain from smoking for the whole day. Didn’t want it in my hair, on my clothes, on my fingertips. I didn’t make a production out of it — I knew it would bother him and he wouldn’t want to be close to me if I reeked, and really, for the amount of money I spend on designer perfumes, smoking was stupid for that reason alone.

I guess the memory brought up a couple of unresolved issues. One, that it’s so hard to actually go ahead and take care of myself anyway when no one is looking. I really need someone or something to hold me accountable to my goals. I resist that kind of control, because that’s what I view it to be. But on the other hand, I’m an A-student at heart. I love to do my homework if there might be a pop quiz following it.

The other issue is a better one, in that while little has changed insofar as never knowing where you stand with people, I either ask or just decide not to worry too much about it. I mean, I don’t know why I cared so much what he thought. I remember him going to kiss me and I wanted him to — intellectually. But my body flinched, almost imperceptibly.

And it was weird, how I thought that was what I wanted more than anything in the world. But maybe I didn’t. Not at that moment, anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I was jealous as HELL that he married the next girl he met. (She was Jewish; so was he. I knew he’d never marry a gentile. I think he was more attracted to her bank account, though — it’s amazing what people might leave you for, but that I can at least understand.)

I don’t even know where I’m going with all of this. The memory was just so powerful, of just that moment of having him mention that he met somebody new and, oh yeah, he’s going to marry her too. Like, WTF was I supposed to do? Sure, I wasn’t QUITE THERE, but I was willing to try to get there. That’s what dating is, right? Having fun with the potential of actually getting somewhere with it, if it should be meant to happen.

I was just mad I never smoked around him. How many moments I needed one that I wasted. … 😉

I wonder whether he’s still with the ol’ Mole Hole. (I know, I’m such a grown-up. She looked like a mole — what can I say?) Moreover, I wonder whether it ever occurred to him that I just needed a little more time with him.

Uptight little priss. Made me so damn nervous sometimes, like I wasn’t yet worthy of him. Lemme think, he was born in ’65, so that made us about nine years apart. I know he liked that I was younger, but that I wasn’t making any money in the non-profit sector was a problem, it seemed. Even though I paid for myself practically everywhere. (Lisa Lampanelli did a great joke in Vegas that Jewish men will make you pay your half of dinner AND the whole tip. Funny because it’s TRUE!!!) I never wanted to seem like I needed anything, that I could take care of myself just fine.

Don’t get me wrong — he took care of major events (birthdays, milestones, etc.). And I loved being seen around town with him — EVERYONE knew him. I enjoyed going to myriad club openings and other nifty stuff he always managed to be on the guest list of.

Now, I always felt like I was somebody, but I loved knowing that I’d picked someone who was respected in the community — like, not only did I have PHENOMENAL taste, but he apparently did, too, to be seen with me. 😉

It’s weird how far I’ve come since then. I have a job that’s reminiscent of the one he used to have. (I admit, I just looked up his LinkedIn profile.) I have become everything I think he wanted me to be. (Other than Jewish and rich. LOL) I think, if we had been able to stay friends, he’d be proud of me.

I think I threw away the friendship. I had to. I was hurting too much. He was good to me — helped me in a lot of ways, both professionally and personally. But I had to step away. I stopped returning his calls after he told me he was getting married. (Admittedly, I DID move to D.C. right around that time!) I left him a message on his wedding day — the one he’d asked me to come to but never sent me an invitation to. And that was that.

I don’t miss him. I will probably forget about him again as soon as I publish this entry.

But that’s the point of this — we try so hard to be what people want us to be, while we know them. And in this case, I became that person, just on my own. Was that partially his influence, dumb luck or just an ability to recognize my past in my present?

Moreover, the point is that everyone — EVERYONE — has the ability to impact us. And we can have the same affect on them.

And you wonder whether one of you walking away when you did means costing you what could have been the greatest relationship of your life.

I wonder if he’s happy. I hope he is. I know men who say they’re settling for the relationships they’re in — you wonder whether they’re exaggerating or whether they’re crying out for help.

And I’m OK that A. wasn’t happy with me. I guess I just wonder what more of a chance with him — or anyone, for that matter — could have yielded.

Maybe one of these days, I’ll not have to wonder. Instead, maybe I’ll just “know.”

But it’s the A.s of this world who are the reason I’ve evolved far enough to determine the difference either way.

One Lonely Response to ‘I wonder if I’ll live long enough to feel again’

  1. Caterwauling :

    […] A friend of mine ran into a guy she used to date. He got married not too long ago. (Is this a recurring theme lately?) And he’s miserable. He used to be good-looking, and my friend said he’s still hot, but he doesn’t have that spark anymore that was always unmistakable. […]