June 2, 2012
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staying away still…
D hasn’t realized that I can now see the exact time he’s read my emails. I didn’t realize it myself until this morning, but there it was: a time 05:52 and “seen”. No response from him, of course. He’s getting ready to leave for work. He’ll check in again later when he gets home from work. If I asked him he’d wave the question away, “I don’t have time for social networking sites. I have so much to do. I don’t check in for days. Thinking of closing my account completely.”
“He’d close it, but then he’d have to worry about how you’re spending your time,” Angel me says. She’s looking over my shoulder at the screen, shaking her head, “Honestly, he talks about the ‘drama’ and then he goes over your page with a fine toothed comb. He barely speaks to the others.” She’s referencing a friend who recently cleared out her contacts and added only four people of the original 67 friends from her high school days: D and E (her two ‘crushes’ from high school), her “best friend”, and me. On her birthday, I sent greetings and best wishes, and that’s when I discovered that she’d cut her contact list by over half. I mentioned it to K, who laughed and said that she’d gotten pretty weird over the years, “I don’t miss her. It’s just wrong to dress your family in themed Halloween costumes. Did you see the Flintstone’s costumes? Her son has to be 14 years old. Who the fuck makes a teenager dress in a loincloth and carry a club? She’s going to fuck that boy up.” He laughs even harder when I tell him that I was one of the chosen 4, “I don’t know what to make of that, because she and I certainly weren’t close. If anything we were rivals then.” He asks if we’re still rivals. I snort in disgust, “There never was any competition. I was a better musician, got better grades, was more worldly. I never threw that in her face. It was just the reality. She was pretty sheltered.”
She was. After high school, she immediately married and in less than 5 years she was divorced. She beamed when I said that I was sorry that her marriage had not worked out, not because she was single but because I wasn’t married yet. She’d beaten me at something. Finally. She was dating someone who had graduated in my class, a nice enough guy, even if he wasn’t all that bright. I wished them well, and they went on their merry way, holding hands and looking very happy. She ended up breaking it off with him a few years later, because she discovered that he was Jewish and had no intention of converting. I was stunned when I saw his sister a few months after the break up and she told me, “They lived together for two years. He took Jewish holidays off from work. How could she NOT know?”
K tells me that maybe in her mind there is still a rivalry, “After all, you have a pretty different life from hers.” I disagree, because she seems to be very happy and to have found her identity. Her son and daughter seem pretty well adjusted (in spite of the Halloween costumes). She’s doing fine, comfortable with herself and with her family. I think she’s jettisoned most of her contacts because she doesn’t need them. The few she’s kept are significant for one reason or another. I understand the two crushes. I understand her best friend. I don’t understand why I made the cut, but it doesn’t matter. When I go back to her page a few days later to see how her times were in a 1/2 marathon that she ran, I realize that I’m the only one of the four who remembered her birthday. I realize at that moment why she kept me. I give enough of a shit to say “Happy Birthday” and cheer her on for running 13 miles in an average time because most people can’t run that far. Hell. Most people can’t WALK that far. When I tell K, he laughs and says, “So what? She’s still fat.”
Devil me reminds me that D isn’t hanging out with the fair weathers either. He’s been scheduled to work every weekend that he planned to go to motorcycle events or the outings with the fair weathers. He’s been logging lots of overtime. He showed me the work that he’d done on the house and the new “toys” he’d purchased. “After all, the fair weathers aren’t going to just stop by his place unless he’s having a party,” she says in a disgusted tone. It’s not lost on me that she’s really disgusted with me, “He’s shoved you away, and then he frets about the men who flirt with you. By the way, are you going to meet with this G fellow? He seems interested.” I shrug. G is a retired firefighter/paramedic who works in the emergency room at a hospital south county and in a physician’s office and who found me through a friend on the social networking site. We’ve never met but we chat on occasion. We certainly can talk shop. I’m not certain what will come of it, if anything. The guy works 6 days a week. Interest in me only started when I recently put up a photo of my face. “Dumbass! You’re wondering why he shows interest now? He likely figured that you weren’t attractive and that was why you posted art photos for your profile photo,” Devil me giggles, “It’s always that way. D probably realizes that and it makes him nervous as hell. You should meet this G fellow. Go have lunch together and see how it goes. Maybe you’ll find out that he’s a nice guy and he’s a better fit for you than D.”
I continue to sort through dresser drawers in preparation of the move. Clothes that don’t fit go in a bag. Tattered old clothes go in another. Charity. Trash. My friend A calls to say he can help me move a load tomorrow. I decide that I’ll buy him lunch for his trouble. I owe him quite a few lunches and dinners. Angel me gives me a nudge, “A cares about you too. He’s a little shy, buy you know he likes you.” I tell her that he smokes, which is a deal breaker. “He could quit someday, you know,” she smiles, “And you know he’s kind and he’s a good person. He wouldn’t be a bad catch.” I nod. I’ve considered A to be a catch for some time. We’re both too polite to make a move, but he’s another one who “makes sense”. His parents are German. His mother is also a nurse. My grandmother was German, so culturally A and I “fit”.
Of course, D is German/English/American as well. We all know how well that worked out.
My phone buzzes with a text. D, “I’m feeling better now, thanx”. I stare at the screen for a moment before sighing and returning to my sorting.
