aahh! so awkward!
Once upon a time, I worked up the courage to tell a man I had very deep feelings for that I wanted our friendship to be something more. He responded by telling me that while he cared for me very much, what I wanted was not on the cards, because I had come along in his life "too soon." Were our friendship to ever become the romantic relationship he envisioned us having, it would have to be a serious one, and that was not something he felt ready for or willing to begin.
I could write a dissertation on it, and in fact probably have, if you put all the scrawls on slips of paper together. Who says that? I mean, come on! Just say you aren't attracted to me, or that you don't want to date anyone! Something! Too soon? Ick.
And yet.
I don't know what I should have done, only what I did do, which was to draw out our "friendship" until it was so pathetic even I couldn't stand it any more, then dead him for a year and change, until caving into his requests that we reconcile before he moved two-thirds of the way across the country, so it really is all water under the bridge now.
I don't know what I should have done, and part of why I didn't know was that, in all honesty, his reason did make sense to me. His not wanting to be with me didn't make sense -- I mean, come on! -- but his reason, his "too soon," his regret at knowing it would have been good, but also that it wasn't what he was ready for -- that resonated with me pretty strongly, as much as I hate to admit it, and as much as I wanted him to get over the too soon thing and just stick his tongue down my throat, already! It made sense: there are some people you are ready to be with now; there are some people you pray you will be ready to be with should you ever get the opportunity; and there are some people, no matter how much both of you want it, that you'll never be ready to be with. I don't know what category I fell into for him.
Later that year, doing the transatlantic chat with G, I heard her say of her own fella, "I feel like everything I've done in my life up until now was getting me ready to be with him." (paraphrased, but you get it) and it struck me in that same way. You can't make someone be ready; they are or they aren't, and you can choose if you're gonna stick around or not. SMF, for example, stuck around for three months with me, and then we had the best relationship of my life, to date. Roostafari and I were both ready, but we only had three weeks of (deep, meaningful, smoketastic) fun because I left it too late, and I still regret that, still think in the back of my mind that maybe we'll get another chance.
I bring this up for two reasons -- partly because today I saw a repeat of the Gilmore Girls (embarassing, but true) and Rory was arguing with some boy she liked about why he wouldn't ask her out, and he said something along the lines of, You would be a great girlfriend for me, but I would be a really bad boyfriend for you. Which is a copout, too, don't get me wrong, but a more easily understood copout than "You're too soon," which made me feel like something -- what exactly I don't know, my very existence, possibly? -- was bad, and all my fault.
My second point -- and forgive me for rambling -- is, I'm getting a crush on one of my friends. Wait, let me not sugarcoat the truth: I have a crush on one of my friends, and it's horrifically inappropriate because it's
TOO SOON!
Oh God. What fucked up kind of karma is this?
Too soon. I am so not kidding. If we were five years from now, it would be all kinds of good. In fact, pre-crush me had even been kind of looking forward to five years from now, thinking, oh, girl, you sing the sad & lonely song to yourself in bed every night, but five years from now it is ON with this boy. Pre-crush me was kind of excited about five years from now -- I would have my bullshit sorted out, at least somewhat -- holla atcha, thirtieth birthday! -- and he would have gotten all his pseudo-intellectual wanking and deep artistic angst out of his system while having retained his twinkly dearness. Plus we would have both quit smoking cigarettes (although they are an intrinsic part of our relationship).
But somehow over the past week, I've started thinking about him more and more ... and now I can't stop thinking about him. It's maddening. I could name a long list of things about him I don't like, or find annoying -- plus I haven't quite yet been able to envision doing anything more than kissing him -- but the bottom line is, once you make that switch in your head, once you move someone from the Non-Kissable Column into the Kissable Column, it's pretty much over. There's no switching back until you do the kissing (or until they price a prostitute on Brixton High Street while walking back home with you, but that's another story for another time). The only people I've been able to move from the Kissable Column into the Non-Kissable Column are people I've already kissed, namely, SMF and Toxic Type -- who really deserves a better name!
We are already spending googobs of time together on this play (you knew who it was, don't lie) and then last night after rehearsal he came over for a quick minute and the rest of that el that Heather, SA, and I couldn't finish on Friday night, and we just had the best time. Talking shit and smoking and talking more shit. And yeah, I felt like I was back in college, getting high when I knew I had to go write a paper, and that's inappropriate because, hello, I've been out of college just as long as I was in, but it was still a really great feeling, that, oh, why can't we just stay up and talk all night? feeling. And when he reads out loud (shut up! we're dorks!) he sounds like this weird amazing combination of 123L and Garrison Keillor.
And I started thinking, why not? I mean, really, why not? I know he likes me and respects me. I know he's smart. I do not want to make the same mistake I made with Roostafari, not do anything until it's too late, only realizing what I might have had until too long afterwards. I think I know that he's been sticking around, in his own strange way, for me. So why not?
Other than the fact that I have railed long and hard against it, have umpteen times proclaimed myself uninterested in his overeager somersaults and name-droppings, and unamused by his attempts to impress me -- all true, until last week.
Other than the fact that Ellie would highly disapprove, and a lot of other people probably would, too. Other than being unable to imagine ever calling him my boyfriend, or introducing him to my parents, or asking other people to take him seriously.
Other than the fact that I am too old to date someone who is ... let's just say, I am too old, or even better, he is too young. The gap between our ages will not be as significant in five years as it is now.
Other than the fact that it's TOO SOON! We can't do this now! We can't start this, can't have this now. (But why not? You're always bitching about how you want someone who will blah blah blah ... oooh, I hate being a Gemini)
Gah!
So I called this Chainsmoking Skier I used to work with, who I've been trying to make out with for about a kajillion years, and we made a tentative date for Friday afternoon (I asked him if we could make out as part of the date. I am in no mood to beat around the bush. I need to know if this crush is as real as it feels, or if I'm just spring-sap-running-through-my-veins horny. It made the Skier really awkward, but we still have a date!) and this Close-Talking, Balding But Hot Californian (CTBBHC) and I have been emailing, in that who's gonna put themselves out there first? kind of way, but I don't know how/if that'll ever pan out, plus, does the CTBBHC really want to make out, or is he just being a friendly Californian?
But can I wait that long? I have to. I have to. At least until after next week. Who knows what will happen at tech week? We could have a huge screaming match and never speak to each other again. Or, I could come clean about how I feel and we could do it in the manky downstairs paint-storage room. Eeeeeuuw, gross. Forget that.
The other thing that freaks me out is that he is one White dude. I mean, blondie blondie bluey bluey. Caucasiantastic. Not my Toxic Type. Not even my Type, at all! The same way that SMF and Roostafari and the Southern Gentlemen were equally not my type, yet were meaningful and connected to me in a very real way. What does this mean? Is my type dead? Am I destined to lust after Joel Fleischman but marry Drew Carey? (Bad analogy, and worse rhyme, but you get my drift).
And of course, the other thing, the thing that REALLY freaks me out, is: What if it's not too soon? What if it's right, really really right, and I've been fighting it all along, and now it's here, and what if that's it? We get together, and that's it? What does that mean? Eeek!
I could write a dissertation on it, and in fact probably have, if you put all the scrawls on slips of paper together. Who says that? I mean, come on! Just say you aren't attracted to me, or that you don't want to date anyone! Something! Too soon? Ick.
And yet.
I don't know what I should have done, only what I did do, which was to draw out our "friendship" until it was so pathetic even I couldn't stand it any more, then dead him for a year and change, until caving into his requests that we reconcile before he moved two-thirds of the way across the country, so it really is all water under the bridge now.
I don't know what I should have done, and part of why I didn't know was that, in all honesty, his reason did make sense to me. His not wanting to be with me didn't make sense -- I mean, come on! -- but his reason, his "too soon," his regret at knowing it would have been good, but also that it wasn't what he was ready for -- that resonated with me pretty strongly, as much as I hate to admit it, and as much as I wanted him to get over the too soon thing and just stick his tongue down my throat, already! It made sense: there are some people you are ready to be with now; there are some people you pray you will be ready to be with should you ever get the opportunity; and there are some people, no matter how much both of you want it, that you'll never be ready to be with. I don't know what category I fell into for him.
Later that year, doing the transatlantic chat with G, I heard her say of her own fella, "I feel like everything I've done in my life up until now was getting me ready to be with him." (paraphrased, but you get it) and it struck me in that same way. You can't make someone be ready; they are or they aren't, and you can choose if you're gonna stick around or not. SMF, for example, stuck around for three months with me, and then we had the best relationship of my life, to date. Roostafari and I were both ready, but we only had three weeks of (deep, meaningful, smoketastic) fun because I left it too late, and I still regret that, still think in the back of my mind that maybe we'll get another chance.
I bring this up for two reasons -- partly because today I saw a repeat of the Gilmore Girls (embarassing, but true) and Rory was arguing with some boy she liked about why he wouldn't ask her out, and he said something along the lines of, You would be a great girlfriend for me, but I would be a really bad boyfriend for you. Which is a copout, too, don't get me wrong, but a more easily understood copout than "You're too soon," which made me feel like something -- what exactly I don't know, my very existence, possibly? -- was bad, and all my fault.
My second point -- and forgive me for rambling -- is, I'm getting a crush on one of my friends. Wait, let me not sugarcoat the truth: I have a crush on one of my friends, and it's horrifically inappropriate because it's
TOO SOON!
Oh God. What fucked up kind of karma is this?
Too soon. I am so not kidding. If we were five years from now, it would be all kinds of good. In fact, pre-crush me had even been kind of looking forward to five years from now, thinking, oh, girl, you sing the sad & lonely song to yourself in bed every night, but five years from now it is ON with this boy. Pre-crush me was kind of excited about five years from now -- I would have my bullshit sorted out, at least somewhat -- holla atcha, thirtieth birthday! -- and he would have gotten all his pseudo-intellectual wanking and deep artistic angst out of his system while having retained his twinkly dearness. Plus we would have both quit smoking cigarettes (although they are an intrinsic part of our relationship).
But somehow over the past week, I've started thinking about him more and more ... and now I can't stop thinking about him. It's maddening. I could name a long list of things about him I don't like, or find annoying -- plus I haven't quite yet been able to envision doing anything more than kissing him -- but the bottom line is, once you make that switch in your head, once you move someone from the Non-Kissable Column into the Kissable Column, it's pretty much over. There's no switching back until you do the kissing (or until they price a prostitute on Brixton High Street while walking back home with you, but that's another story for another time). The only people I've been able to move from the Kissable Column into the Non-Kissable Column are people I've already kissed, namely, SMF and Toxic Type -- who really deserves a better name!
We are already spending googobs of time together on this play (you knew who it was, don't lie) and then last night after rehearsal he came over for a quick minute and the rest of that el that Heather, SA, and I couldn't finish on Friday night, and we just had the best time. Talking shit and smoking and talking more shit. And yeah, I felt like I was back in college, getting high when I knew I had to go write a paper, and that's inappropriate because, hello, I've been out of college just as long as I was in, but it was still a really great feeling, that, oh, why can't we just stay up and talk all night? feeling. And when he reads out loud (shut up! we're dorks!) he sounds like this weird amazing combination of 123L and Garrison Keillor.
And I started thinking, why not? I mean, really, why not? I know he likes me and respects me. I know he's smart. I do not want to make the same mistake I made with Roostafari, not do anything until it's too late, only realizing what I might have had until too long afterwards. I think I know that he's been sticking around, in his own strange way, for me. So why not?
Other than the fact that I have railed long and hard against it, have umpteen times proclaimed myself uninterested in his overeager somersaults and name-droppings, and unamused by his attempts to impress me -- all true, until last week.
Other than the fact that Ellie would highly disapprove, and a lot of other people probably would, too. Other than being unable to imagine ever calling him my boyfriend, or introducing him to my parents, or asking other people to take him seriously.
Other than the fact that I am too old to date someone who is ... let's just say, I am too old, or even better, he is too young. The gap between our ages will not be as significant in five years as it is now.
Other than the fact that it's TOO SOON! We can't do this now! We can't start this, can't have this now. (But why not? You're always bitching about how you want someone who will blah blah blah ... oooh, I hate being a Gemini)
Gah!
So I called this Chainsmoking Skier I used to work with, who I've been trying to make out with for about a kajillion years, and we made a tentative date for Friday afternoon (I asked him if we could make out as part of the date. I am in no mood to beat around the bush. I need to know if this crush is as real as it feels, or if I'm just spring-sap-running-through-my-veins horny. It made the Skier really awkward, but we still have a date!) and this Close-Talking, Balding But Hot Californian (CTBBHC) and I have been emailing, in that who's gonna put themselves out there first? kind of way, but I don't know how/if that'll ever pan out, plus, does the CTBBHC really want to make out, or is he just being a friendly Californian?
But can I wait that long? I have to. I have to. At least until after next week. Who knows what will happen at tech week? We could have a huge screaming match and never speak to each other again. Or, I could come clean about how I feel and we could do it in the manky downstairs paint-storage room. Eeeeeuuw, gross. Forget that.
The other thing that freaks me out is that he is one White dude. I mean, blondie blondie bluey bluey. Caucasiantastic. Not my Toxic Type. Not even my Type, at all! The same way that SMF and Roostafari and the Southern Gentlemen were equally not my type, yet were meaningful and connected to me in a very real way. What does this mean? Is my type dead? Am I destined to lust after Joel Fleischman but marry Drew Carey? (Bad analogy, and worse rhyme, but you get my drift).
And of course, the other thing, the thing that REALLY freaks me out, is: What if it's not too soon? What if it's right, really really right, and I've been fighting it all along, and now it's here, and what if that's it? We get together, and that's it? What does that mean? Eeek!
posted by Hannah at 12:52 AM
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