cheers to 2010!

Happy New Year! Thank you for being such devoted supporters through 2009. Here's to a new year filled with Life, Love, Relationships and New York City! Cheers!

Love in the new year

Misses and Kisses

How can I miss someone I barely even know? I don’t miss people. Sounds strange, cold hearted maybe; alas, it’s true. I think of people often and wish they were near, but I don’t miss them, long for them. I think I am just used to people leaving or being far away. Some of my closest friends have never lived on the same continent as me. I supposed I have those I miss, but I miss them in a fleeting thought, lonely lost letter type of way. When someone pops into my brain and I remember my love for them, I stop and I write them a note, send them a text, or send up a prayer for their well being. Soft sighs, slight smile, on with my day. My heart hurts with a deep down ache I am not accustomed to. I don’t like it, but it stirs hope in me. I don’t know what to do with this anxious, needy, giddy, longing that is grabbing at my gut! I want him to pursue me, and he is.. But I must restrain my excitement, I musn’t tell him how I feel, I must just keep it locked up inside.. for now. I need to nail my ass to the seat and wait, sit in the tension and the squirmy, uneasy, happiness that is creeping up inside me. All in due time, all in due time.

Visits

I will see MP in Paris on January 21st.

I will see the Hungarian in Budapest on January 25th.

The MP visit, traipsing through our adopted city, will undoubtedly be giggle-filled and lovely. As for the Hungarian one... now, that's a great big question mark.

Homecoming

It felt like every bone in my body ached. In the past couple of days I've spent maybe 40 hours on some kind of plane, more if you include the parts at the airport. I've been tired and cranky. I haven't been eating at proper times. Jet lag has thrown my sleep schedule out of kilter so that I can't sleep for more than two hours at a time without waking up. I no longer knew what time zone I was in.

My bag stood in the hallway. The backpack I'd been lugging around with me for the past five days lay in a corner. I sipped some tea. Hugs had been exchanged, kisses on the cheek. We all sat around now, talking about the journey, of so and so who passed away, of the broken window that needs to be fixed, about my sister's wedding plans.


I sat on the settee next to my grandma and my aunt. I curled up into a little ball. I laid my head on my grandma's nap. Her fingers playing with my hair. Stroking my head. The conversation flowed around me. I'd comment from time to time. I held her soft hand to my cheek.

I woke up to find a blanket draped over me and a pillow tucked under my head. I finally felt refreshed.

The Past, Revisited

It was freezing; the kind of cold that wormed its way into every fold of your jacket and burrowed next to your skin to coat your entire being in chills. I was waiting outside the bar for him but secretly didn’t want him to show. I hate first dates. There is too much pressure and I never come off as myself. I wanted him to see me one more time outside the intimacy of dinner.

He was two drinks in when I finally realized he was sitting at the bar waiting for me, instead of standing outside… like a fool.

“Should we order sake?” he asked after we sat down at the sushi place he had suggested.
“I’m not a big sake fan,” I told him. He ordered it anyway, poured me a tiny glass which sat untouched throughout the entire meal, and drank the bottle in its entirety by himself. He talked about himself for the duration of the date: his painting, his bar, his family, his childhood. I could write the brief history of L. after having spent one night with this person. And to top it all off, he seemed completely disinterested every time I brought up something about myself.

He walked me to the subway after paying for dinner and asked if I wanted to go somewhere for another drink. The last thing you need is another drink. “I should really get home,” I said as vaguely as possible. I couldn’t even gauge if I liked this guy because he was clearly nervous and clearly dealing with it in a bizarre way.

“I feel like I did something wrong,” he said bluntly. I didn’t know how to say that getting wasted on our first date qualifies as way, way more than ‘something wrong.’ We said goodnight and I went home and felt confused. He was a nice guy. Thirty-three years old, owned his own bar and restaurant with amazing food that I really respected, and a talented painter in his spare time. I wanted to give him another shot.

I did, it was more of the same, and I found myself not particularly caring if I saw him again. He called a few times and when I didn’t respond, he made some angry, jilted comments about me to a mutual friend. I washed my hands of it.

Until today. Two years later, almost to the day. A Gchat message.
“What was that town by where you grew up? The one ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ is based on?”
“Um, hello there, stranger. It’s called Seneca Falls.”
“That’s right! Thanks. Awesome.”
We started chatting, he asked how I was doing, what I was doing, where I was living. He seemed happier than he was when we went out, incredibly optimistic.

“So,” he began. “Do you like sushi?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s this great place…”
“Blue Ribbon?”
“How did you know that?!”
“You took me there!”
“Oh right… I’ve been dying to go back.”
“Yeah, it was great food.”
“Let’s go!” What? Huh? Quoi? I’m sorry, are you asking me on a date two years later?
“Are you sure you want to go with me?” I asked. I felt I could match his boldness.
“Why not?”
“Well… we argued a lot.” Because you are an argumentative person.
“I think it was a miscommunication. I was really sick the last time we went out.”
I decided to give in. He was persistent if nothing else. And I did promise myself I’d be more open minded when it came to guys, so as not to pass up a great opportunity in case one should stare me in the face in a less-than-perfect package.

We agreed to meet on January 5. And what a busy January it will be.

Project O.C.: Halt

I left something out. Something I chalked up to the alcohol. He was so great otherwise, why let this one little thing taint the entire night, much less the blog post? But then today he came by my office and that tiny little thing hit me like a searing hot metal poker in my side. I couldn't ignore it anymore.

He stood in the doorway of my office and handed me a white envelope with a shaky hand. “Hey. I have a card for you. Sorry… about the envelope… I messed up and then I ran out and I had to make it. So, I hope you have fun with your friend tonight and I’ll see you when we get back from break.”

All I could say was “thank you.” He walked away and I stared at the envelope. It was folded so tightly around the card that I couldn’t even pull it out. My brain thumped against the walls of my skull. The tiny thing from Tuesday night echoed in my thoughts… not so tiny anymore. I imagined an engagement ring falling out of this envelope.

“Lauren, I hope you and your family have a lovely and relaxing holiday season and a happy new year. I look forward to seeing you when we return from break. Sincerely, M.F.” He signed his full name. The entire note was written in beautiful, curvy, feminine script. We hadn’t even been on a single date yet and already it was too much. It was way, way too much. And then the little thing in my brain… clear as a bell.

Drunkenly whispered in the back of the cab, “Lauren… I love you.” Suddenly I wished the OC had stayed a fantasy.