Emily and I go shopping. We start at the food court where we pick up two gyros. We grab a center table and eat our brief lunch. While having lunch, we exchange work out tips, then horror dating stories. We laugh. All this time we think our live styles are unique, but we find out that we actually share very similar routines. We go to Hot Topic and pick up the same new shirt, then to Cathy Jeans to pick up the same new shoes. We go back to work. It was a short day. We get out of the office around 7 p.m. and then head back to the hotels. We drop our laptops and then go to the nearby gyms to start our nightly work out routine. We get back around 9 just in time to catch Ally McBeal - our favorate show of all time.
Next time I’m in Portland we will go out and check out a few bars. Maybe I’ll smoke a few cigarettes and order a glass of gin and tonic. And if we are lucky, maybe we will even meet a couple of cute and interesting guys.
You called. I was really happy to hear your voice. It was nine p.m. East Coast time. You were about to head out to meet a client. You said that you wanted to discuss about my writing. No one had taken interest in what I wrote since L left the scene. I sometime wondered if I wrote because I wanted to be heard or if I wrote because I simply wanted to express the excessive self. It sorted of served a way of thinking without getting too serious with the reality. Before L used to tell me that it was therapeutic, or else I’d be a real basket base by now if not psychotic. He had a way of putting me down without really trying and I would sometimes feel exhausted after talking to him and inevitably down. Though I was addicted to his comments, as he seemed to be really taking an interests in my work. And one day he decided to phase out and I’ve not heard from him since. Not that I knew what I did wrong, other than that he and I didn’t see things eye to eye. Then one day you showed up.
I told a friend that you had inspired me to a greater extent. You simply had no idea. You called on Friday to see if I was willing to discuss the most recent writing over the weekend. I waited for your call like a young woman waited for her first lover to take her away from the miserable home. You said that it was an interesting piece of writing as in the stories I sorted of wrote about us, well, sort of, in a fictionalized manner. It was journalistic in a way. I didn’t tell you that it had taken me one month before putting you down in my writing and that I’ve started and written over ten stories before posting the one that I had on the net.
Years and years ago when I was a junior auditor with a big 6 accounting firm, I ran into a man who seemed to have everything - fame, wealth, academic standings and looks. He was a sharp dresser and he looked great in everything he wore. He was, in my mind, at the time the best looking guy I’ve ever met though he was fifteen years senior than me. He was mysterious, private and he seemed to take a real interest in me. He was smooth and he was persistent. Through the course of our relationship he told me that he would be very interested in exploring the world with me. He claimed that he was financially secure, that he was new to the bay area and that he was only looking for a beautiful woman to spend time with – without any expectations of course. I interpreted his message with a very young idealistic view – I thought he wanted a relationship, I thought he wanted me because I had what he was looking for.
I was partially right. I had what he was looking for, but only in the fashion of a casual acquaintance. Yet in my mind some of his made to believe stories got inside of my head: trips to Hawaii, watching sunset in a secluded hot spa near Napa Valley, hiking by Yosemite and various ski trips to Squaw Valley Lake Tahoe…the list went on.
The affair ended on a night when he flew to Washington D.C. for a business trip. It was also my birthday. Back then I had no faith in myself, and I didn't know how to trust a man who was constantly on the road so I let my imagination ran wild and thought the worst possible - I thought he never cared about me. In looking back, nothing ever did take place - other than a few nights of late visits from this man who seemed to have promised me the world of luxury but failed to deliver. I had nothing to remember him by, not even a picture, not even a gesture – even his looks had faded over the years. Though ever since he first planned the seeds of the ultimate paradise on earth in me, I had fallen in love with the concept of sharing those incredibly sexy and romantic moments with someone.
Years later, none of that had been materialized, Yet I became more and more obsessed with the romantic ideas as time went by. I went through a stage where I was fixated with money, as I thought money would be able to provide me with the life style the man promised me once. But as time went on money became less of an issue, the bank account grew in a speed only I could dream of back when I was poor and broke, when I had to save hard so that I could afford to buy one pretty dress to go out. Now days I overwhelmed myself with pretty clothes, cute shoes and expensive cosmetics products. I took myself on short get-aways and I spoiled myself to my little heart’s content. It was no longer the issue of having the monetary means, it was the issue of obtaining time off from the projects and finding the right companion to share those special moments with.
In the classical Cinderella stories, the girl met a prince and that was how she escaped from the poverty and misery. In the contemporary version, the girl grew up and found a way to become financially independent, emotionally strong and spiritually free. But she still had yet to meet the man who would be willing to share the life style she had created for herself.
I was not good at hiding anything - not in front of others, but particularly not in front of you. I went over to talk to someone you knew, who was a colleague of mine, and I blushed for no reason. I was afraid that he’d look at me differently now that he had the knowledge of you and me.
I told you that I went to the Q, a lesbian dance club on South of Market. It was rather interesting as I explained to you. I realized that I was definitely heterosexual – which was comforting in a way. Yet it was a good experience. I was with a lesbian couple, they had recently gotten back together. I was terribly straight among the crowd. I felt out of placed. I suspected dating among the same gender was a completely new ball game and I knew none of the rules.
“You are shocking the system”. You simply commented.
“You make me blushing.” I told you over the phone.
“All right!” You’d say – that seemed to be your favorite phrase.
I created a web page for you and just for you. I made a pretty background using Adobe PhotoShop. I put my heart and soul in creating the site for you. I thought that after what I’ve received from you, you deserved only the best. I was so eager to share the vision of my world with you, yet I found myself pondering over some of the exact thoughts the man who once painted the same picture for me had.
I was afraid of overwhelming you with my ideas – those romantic getaways and discoveries. I had not thought about the future, whether we’d be together, whether we’d become a deeply involved couple, whether we’d fall in love with one another. I simply wanted to have someone who shared the same vision in life to share those adventures and explore the world with me. I didn’t want to impose upon you. I didn’t want to make you feel that I was there to take over your life and change how you want to live your life. In fact, I didn’t even want you to feel that I desired a committed full-blown relationship at the stage we were in. I simply wanted a shared vision. And I thought you were the perfect candidate to fulfill the role.
You had bare minimum pretenses. You had not been scared away – insofar you had not criticized me or provided any negative feedback. You had a similar life style as mine and you had not pressured me in any way. The last thing I wanted was someone to try to impress me with his or her ideas. This year my agenda was “Getting rid of bad influences.” Anyone, man or woman, who told me what to do and what not to do, was out. Anyone, man or woman, who told me how he or she wanted me to behave or dress, was out.
You told me, “Any man who is involved with you has to know that you are very independent.” I had a very strong resentment towards those men who try to push their ideas upon me. It made me sick to my stomach and I resented every moment of it. You never did that on me. In fact you told me that you appreciated the vision I had for the world and you liked my philosophy, and yes, you liked the way I dressed.
Sex. Sex is a sensitive topic. Sex is rated R at least so pupils, close your eyes and skip this paragraph.
Sex is fun. Sex is energizing, but it’s not sex that matters to me. It’s how I am viewed as in the other person’s eyes. It’s about being close to someone and being understood by someone. Now as crazy as I claim to be, I am essentially normal and quite frankly, idealistic and feminine.
I was more excited about what we talked about and how you simply held my hand than the actual course of lovemaking. You had those intense eyes. If they were indeed windows to your soul, then I was looking into a deep dark well full of unknown treasures on the bottom. On an early sunny morning if I stared hard I could see the shining reflection from the gems glittering from the bottom of the well, and I wondered if I just caught a glimpse of truth?
I was addicted to your attention, your analysis, and your voice. I wondered if I was idolizing you because you had one of the most sensitive souls I’ve ever seen. When I walked on the street without you I thought about you and I wondered if you would laugh at me because I was actually quite sentimental despite my tough and careless surface.
Today when you called you didn’t pronounce your name. You simply said, “Hi!” My phone showed a 415 area code though you were really somewhere in the East Coast. You simply routed your number through your San Francisco office switchboard. Besides you and my best girl friend pal, no one else knew my number in Portland. Besides you, no one tracked where I was at every week. Others simply assumed that I was out of town but where at they could care less.
When I worked twelve hours a day and dealt with people constantly at work, I sometimes had the urge to be connected with someone, someone who could know and understand the non work side of me, someone who I didn’t mind showing the true self without worrying about being judged.
I chose you to fantasize on my waking hours. I chose your image to wake up with – when I was out on the road you were also out on the road as well. You carried the exact same model of cell phone and the exact same palm pilot. You were a lefty like I was so I wondered if you were really the missing twin I’d never had.
We had an argument about being an observer and a participant. I claimed that I liked to participate in an event but when it was over I could pull myself out of the situation and continue to live my life without being disturbed. So you paused for an unusually long moment, and finally you said, just before I was about to break the silence, “That means when you are in it, you are in it but it’s just as easy if you walked away.”
I didn’t mean to threaten you. I got hurt just as easily. But I was getting tougher. I kept on telling myself that I should be tough and I should be less affected by events which I had no control over with. Pretty soon, I was really the tough chic who was able to handle disappointments in life better than the rest of the general population. But I thought too much into things. Instead of acting out, I wrote them down. I journalized everything.
We talked about the books you were reading. And then the recently out movies. I told you that this week I got booked into a penthouse suite with a fireplace - two bedrooms, two bath, two story and a wet bar. You were planning to come out to see me before your travel schedule got crazy again.
“What would we do with the big place?” You teased me. I smiled. I had some ideas flashing through my mind. I wish you were out here this week in Portland. But there was still next week. And next week you had planned your week in Salt Lake City. I would have my usual Hilton room again with the patio and a view.
I missed falling asleep with you. I missed kissing you and being kissed by you. I have thoughts of exploring the world with you. No expectations, no strings attached, but just take it day by day and see how it goes.
That was exactly what the man used to tell me. I didn’t understand what he meant by that back then. I wanted everything too fast too soon and I lost everything I ever believed, including the hope to love again to a lousy two years of slow recovery.
Now I do. Now I want the same exact things in life. Your other favorite phrase is “enjoy life”. I don't know there is another person in this world who feel the same way as I do until I meet you. I can’t predict future. All I can do today is to enjoy life.
Like Ally McBeal I have so much already in life but I still want more.
This time I want someone to enjoy life with me. And I made a wish to the
shooting stars that this someone is you.