I was losing hope that I might ever get to this day, but everything changed last week. Her name is Bess and she is wonderful. And beautiful, and clever, and passionate, and brave, and fun. My heart ignited when I met her and I always want to be with her. I’m glad I held out. I’m glad I was picky. I’m glad I followed my heart.
We are just at the beginning. The road winds ahead through hills and valleys unseen. I am ready.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with a crippling muscle cramp chewing into my leg. I think, “I wish someone was here to help me. I wish someone could massage the pain out.” Or, pain aside, I want to reach out and find someone next to me in the darkness and not care about anything else that may have happened to the world while we slept.
Sometimes I cough so hard that it triggers my gag reflex and I throw up a little bit, but I wasn’t expecting it, so it sprays out over my hand in a dripping mess. I think “I’m glad there is no one else here to see this. Who would want to witness this horrible display? No one.” No one would tolerate how I choose to do my laundry or re-use my dishes or not shower until later.
Hunter S. Thompson spoke of knowing the “dead-end loneliness of a man who makes his own rules.” I’ve been alone for going on seven years now. In that time I have honed the skills needed to be on my own. Certain habits and practices are deeply ingrained. I know myself and what I want better than I ever have. It is like I started out as a simple puzzle piece with rounded edges, with many potential compatibilities. But then I found myself with years of introspection to while away and antsy hands that set themselves to whittling complex patterns along the edges of the piece.
Now no one fits. Or maybe only one fits. Or the ones that might fit aren’t interested in fitting.
I fall in love with rounded edges, my heart forgetting that I myself haven’t had them in quite some time.
So one of my creative projects is my ongoing quest to find a girlfriend. I will go into more detail in a future post. This week is just the preamble, the tease. The real posts start next week.
Anyhow, one of my friends from my board game group suddenly got engaged. I’m not best buds with the guy or anything, not privy to the machinations of his private life. But still. Seems like I would have noticed someone he was about to marry. Turns out it was someone he had known for a while, but she lives in Seattle. And they decided to get married this coming July and he’s going to move out there. Just like that.
So another friend asks me if I found the love of my life but she lived somewhere else, wouldn’t I move there? Like what if she was from Ohio. Would I go back there? And I’m like “Fuck, I hope not. I hope it doesn’t come down to that.” I love Austin. I love my friends here. I don’t want to leave. She’d have to move here.
I mean, one of the main reasons I came here was to hopefully meet someone in Austin, the cool town with the Alamo Drafthouse. I don’t want to find out that, no, she’s actually kicking it in some Louisiana bayou or New York borough. I don’t think it is wrong to balance the fantastic with the pragmatic, the deep soul desire with the practicality of the everyday.
Unless, of course, some mirror cracks open or an alien shuttle craft lands and she’s like, “Hey, let’s bail on this whole planet Earth situation and go back to my place.” I’d be down with that.
I get this guilt from not having the Next Big Thing queued up. The Project is what I use to validate my existence. But I’m waiting for someone, guys. None of this makes a lot of sense without her. I feel like I got to do most of the things I wanted to do on my own.
Now I just want to do things with you and with her.
But sometimes you’re busy and she… She’s taking her time.
This started out as a post about PAX East 2010, but then I realized I had no interest or energy to recount that adventure. In summary: Geek cons are fun, exhausting and one day too long.
When I go to a convention, especially one in the realm of geekiness, I usually find myself fending off an encroaching wave of depression and estrangement. I think it is most prevalent at conventions because I feel like, of all social groups, I should find resonance with this one. But I don’t. It doesn’t happen with any group, anywhere, ever. I have no people. Continue reading →
Legend of the Seeker, based on “The Sword of Truth” novels, is an archetypical (that is to say, cliche) fantasy show on par with Xena, full of sketchy special effects and cheesy dialogue. But I have a huge crush on Kahlan so I’ve decided the show is awesome and I’m going to watch it. So there.
Sometimes I wish I could just date. Sometimes I wish I could just be the person she needed, whoever “she” happened to be at the time. Sometimes I want to ignore the extra layer of information I see superimposed over the world, my soul’s HUD for navigating waking life. But the pull of that silver path is too strong. And I want to follow it, even if it leads to my nemesis. No one wants to face rejection because of an aetheric arrow. No one wants to hear about time out of phase. My criteria is beyond unreasonable and I find this offends those who hear it. Simply put: She lights up. And I … ignite.
So this is an apology to all of the wonderful women who just seem so right, who just make so much sense. I’m sorry. Just think of me as a visitor to your planet, bound by alien directives and customs. It will be easier to explain my behavior that way. I’m sorry. You did not stand a chance against the avatar, the one I am moving toward as the sun moves toward the sea. I don’t want you to save me.
I’m driving the BMW to Trader Joe’s. Beth is next to me. I notice that the experience of the car is transformed by who is handling it, much that of a gun or violin. Here the vehicle is purely utilitarian, getting us to where we need to go. I don’t care what it looks like or what it is and I only think about it in terms of how the BMW is not like my own car.
We’re talking about relationships and online dating. I haven’t given Beth the backstory of the avatar, so the things I say apparently horrify her on some level. I haven’t encountered many people who are comfortable with the rhetoric of the quirkyalone. Listening to myself, I know it sounds like I have excluded the entire world save one person.
I’m pushing the shopping cart at Trader Joe’s and reality has gone wobbly for me. I start to lose focus on where I am and suddenly I am in several different stores at once. Beth is asking me something about the grocery list, which has suddenly become indecipherable, the scrawled prescription from a mad chef. I answer noncommittally as the aisles telescope and emotions tumble down the shelves.
We manage to collect the ingredients for guacamole and hummus, dips which Beth insists must never be purchased, always made by hand. Later she would demonstrate her Shaolin avacado cutting style. She has resolved to eat an avacado a day while in California. I also found the frozen chocolate dipped bananas I had been craving.
The ride back is just like the ride there, only in reverse. Which is to say, completely unfamiliar.
And then I waited for what I
wanted to know
And when I did not receive what
I felt was my due
I simply just did that which I could
I created it.
Now I know what this means.
Thank you.
I have not been so surprised by a film since Fight Club. Hancock is about superheroes the way that Fight Club is about punching. This impression should of course be taken with a grain of salt as the film really spoke to me on some other level. Your mileage may vary.
1. The Fountain
2. Blade Runner
3. There Will Be Blood
4. Batman Begins
5. Ghostbusters
6. Barton Fink
7. Old Boy
8. Hancock
9. WALL-E
10. CQ