Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

11PM. An almost-empty bar in the East Village. Two people in the back, three drinks deep, four weeks in. She could tell He was going to be important to Her.

"Play 'King of Wishful Thinking!'" She shouted at the DJ. The song began to play and He spun Her around in the space around the tables, singing along and bumping Her hips.

"Hey!" He called out to the DJ. "Play that song from Mannequin next!"

And She knew He was a Keeper.

The Learning Curve

I’m good at being the flirt.
I’m a great first date.
I make a fantastic dinner partner.
I’m great at watching football with the boys.

I don’t know how to be a girlfriend.
I’m bad at putting one guy first.
I’m terrible at unloading my problems without crushing him.
I can’t find the balance between friends and boyfriend.

“I’m learning,” I told him.
“And I’m learning you.”

I just hope he likes what he finds.

Morning reading

I always cry at the end of Amelie. Always. Without giving it away (shame on you if you haven't watched the movie), there is something about the final scene - the joy, the energy, the love, the humor - that is so beautiful it brings me to tears. They're not sad tears, not really, but there is an element of pain to the feeling. Pain is the wrong word... longing perhaps? Whatever it is, I watch the scene, and I wish I could feel the way the characters do in that moment. Their complete happiness is so beautiful it hurts.

I don't get the feeling often, but when I do, it lingers for a while. It colors my outlook, casting this slight melancholy tint on things that, on any other day, would be considered unremarkably normal.

This morning, I got the feeling. A friend passed along an old New Yorker short story, and I read it over a latte at a cafe down the street. When I looked up from the page, the tears stung in my eyes. But, in a rush to make it to work on time, I couldn't dwell on my reaction. Now, hours of brooding behind my computer later, I know it's here. So what to do?

Well, for starters, I took care to lift my spirits today. I got gelato during lunch. Called a friend who lives in another state. Bought tickets to see a movie. Made plans to check out some apartments this weekend. Looking ahead, I hope to: finally move out of my house, fully explore new job prospects, and pick up my guitar again.

Truthfully, I'm not sure if complete happiness is attainable (or if it is, whether it's sustainable). No matter. It's worth a try.

Because I Said So...

Has anyone seen the romcom "Because I Said So" starring Mandy Moore (my all time fave)?

It tells a story of an overbearing mother who posts an online dating ad for her chronically single daughter.

Well here is a real live version of the movie.

c/o NYPOST

ps- I highly recommend the movie in case you were wondering ;)

The Friendly Ghost

It seems this week my past has come back to haunt me. But it’s more Casper, less Poltergeist.

Right after E. broke up with me, way back in 2004, I started hanging out with new friends. Guy friends. It was nice to be surrounded by testosterone but in a non-threatening way. It made me feel relaxed, like I could finally figure out who I was unattached. This new group of guys also introduced me to JB.

JB was attractive to me in all the ways that E was not. He was 6 years older, about to go to NYU for graduate school, funny in the most sarcastic way, and so comfortable being one of the guys. He heard I had a crush on him and started sending me instant messages. He was sweet. When I got into NYU for undergrad, he was so excited for me. “You can come over and we can do our respective homework together,” he said. He was six months ahead of me getting to New York.

By the time I got there, he had met someone.

We’d chat every once in awhile online about everything from politics to new music (did I mention he was born in Seattle?) and then one day he deleted his AIM account. And then his Facebook profile was gone. It was 2005 and our mildly flirtatious friendship was over.

Cut to today. July 2010. Five years later.

Hey Lauren,

It appears I reactivated my Facebook account just in time for your birthday. Happy Birthday!

How's life? What's new?

JB

Hello, Casper. Nice to see you again.

Beso

No matter who you rooted for this World Cup (VIVA ESPANA!) you have to smile at this beautiful moment between Spanish goalie and team captain Iker Casillas and his journalist fiancee Sara Carbonero.

Now, if only I understood Spanish...

Time machine

Some days I wake up still feeling the soft papery crepe of his skin, stretched against hollow wood, against my lips. I re-live the echoing hollowness in my soul. I can hear the soft weeping, drilling it in into me that he is no longer there.

And those days I still have a lump in my throat. The tears I held back then still live on inside me.

In interviews people always seem to say that if they had a time machine they would travel back in time to meet Gandhi and Frank Sinatra and FDR and Ben Franklin.

Screw that.

I know whom I'd want to meet up with if I had a time machine. We'd sit in the old leather sofa and have some tea. He'd make me some toast to go with it. I'd kiss him on his cheek and tell him about my life. I'd ask him a thousand questions about his life that I'd never even thought of before. We'd play a game of rummy and read books in silence together. He'd place his hand on my head in passing affection.

Gandhi and Sinatra and FDR and Ben Franklin would wait for another day.

Do you ever...?

Do you ever just feel like crying your heart out but then find that all you're capable of is a silent scream?

And you wish you could tell someone, anyone, everything that's inside and that hurts because maybe that would make it go away but you know you can't, you know there's not a single person you can actually tell, you know you won't find the words, because there are no words. And then you try it anyway, you pick a person, that person who's supposed to be your person, and you try to talk, and you try to say everything that's inside and that hurts, and nothing. It's exactly the way you knew it was going to be. You don't find the words, because there are no words, and you end up getting mad at the person, who's supposed to be your person, and you make that person feel horrid too. And then you hang up and curl into a ball and wish you could get a hug, but you know that it's a good thing there isn't anyone to give you a hug because really, you can't let someone see you cry, and you would push them away anyway and go and be lonely somewhere five feet away. And so you just hug yourself and not-cry for a bit. And then you just pick up your lonely pieces that don't know why they're lonely and you do the everyday things you do just as if nothing ever happened, because really, what did? You didn't cry, you didn't break into a million little pieces, you didn't say anything after all. And maybe the next day you have to explain away a "bad mood" but it's just a blip on the radar after all.

Yea...me neither.