Virtual Friends, Meatspace Strangers

In high school, most of nearly every girl's time is either spent thinking about, talking about, or scheming up ways to best subtly approach boys.

I was no exception.

Well...except that I never could work up the courage to subtly approach anyone resembling a boy and, instead, used the not so successful tactic of pining away silently and hoping the object of my affection would notice.

 

It shouldn't surprise you then to learn my first serious boyfriend didn't come along until the year after I left high school.

But this story isn't about that first boyfriend.

There was a boy I liked - let's call him The Honorable Lord Vigo, Scourge of Carpathia and Sorrow of Moldavia¹ - Vigo for short. I really only saw him a handful of times. We didn't attend the same school. Hell! By the time I met him, I lived in another town. So it wasn't one of those angsty, heart-wrenching, watching-him-lean-on-his-locker-and-slowly-dying-inside-day-after-day sort of crushes. It was simply one of those crushes where, from the moment I met him, I just really liked being near him. It felt good to be near him. He was adorable and funny. So, whenever I was in his town visiting, I was always super happy when our paths crossed.

Me, of course, being the shy, tongue-tied, type didn't ever hope to make an impression. If I recall correctly, I may have said all of 10 words to him during that time and likely they were monosyllabic. And, as one-by-one my closest friends from that town - Beasley, Brad, Nykki - moved up and out of it, I didn't see Vigo again...Not for nearly 25 years.

Eventually, the crush floated away on the winds of Wyoming as it blew in other boys who would become men.

Still...every once in awhile, I'd wonder what happened to him.

I would, rarely, get updates through the Beasley-Brad-Nykki vine. Eventually, they too lost touch with him. For many years there was nothing.

And then? Facebook happened. I think it was Brad's 40th birthday party invitation when I became aware of Vigo's online existence and knew he was physically present here, in Denver. He had a new last name and only recent pictures but it couldn't possibly be anyone but him. It was him. That was in 2010.

You have to understand...I wanted to send him a friend request back then. I really did! But! There are many people who date back from that time in my life - people I thought quite highly of - who, I fear, wouldn't even remember me. It was a time in my life I spent mostly in the corner, smoking, writing bad poetry, fearing rejection, deflecting attention. I didn't want anyone to see me...except that I really did...unless I knew they would like me. I was convinced no one actually liked me...except Beasley, Brad, Nykki.

Finally, at Beasley's insistence, near my birthday in 2013, I sent Vigo a friend request. It was weird. I felt weird. But he accepted right away.

Turns out? He did remember me.

Turns out? I intimidated him back then.

I blame it on resting bitch face.

Still got it.

And the fact that, since I couldn't actually formulate full sentences in the presence of testosterone then, I likely just grunted and growled and, occasionally, squeaked which probably made me seem a little whacko.

Anyway!

He accepted my friend request. Subsequently, I learned more about him and the man he's become through Facebook than I ever knew about the boy he was then.

But, even though he was here, in Denver, my adopted city, we weren't compelled to hang out until last week. We'd exchanged a few private messages prior to last week. Mostly about my dad, last summer, when I was looking for an elder care facility for him...something Vigo knows a lot about.

But then, last week, I was thinking a lot about being an empath. I stumbled across an article and, in reading the comments, I developed a theory about empaths. A theory that suggested empaths, including me, feel lonely, even in the presence of fellow empaths, because, in social situations, we are so used to feeling the feels of others and giving away our energy that it's all but impossible for us to know how to receive it. I wanted to test my theory - or discuss it with a fellow empath. So I posted something about it. Asked my friends on Facebook if they identified as an empath.Vigo said yes.

That's what started it. The conversation.

I think I started it - the private conversation - after he commented that he was an empath. We talked. A lot. We shared a lot via email. Not just about being empaths. About lots of things. And then he asked me to meet him on Friday for supper.

So...Friday night, we met, for the first time since 1989.

I was nervous. I was shaking as he approached. The high school crush thing wasn't the issue. It felt as though I was meeting him for the very first time. Virtual friends, meatspace strangers. What would he think of me? Would we have anything to say? Would we argue? Would we meet each other's expectations? Would we run out of conversation before we'd reviewed the menu? Would I forget my words and resort to prehistoric grunts and growls and squeaks?

 

I worry too much.

He got to the table, I stood up, and we hugged long and hard and then we both just started laughing.

The moment we sat down, we were on.

Words, his, mine, tumbling over the top of one another. Tell me this story, that story, OMG! That really happened?!

There were tears. There was laughter. There were stories galore!

Five hours we sat there asking, answering - empath to empath - about everything under the sun. We shared secrets. I told him things I haven't shared with anyone. It was a gloriously stimulating energy exchange the likes of which are exceedingly rare in my experience.

By the time I got home, there was an e-mail from him. We talked via e-mail for a couple more hours. I was so energized, I was practically giddy. I stayed up past 3, writing for the first time in months.

 

My theory was thoroughly debunked and in the best way possible. It would also seem that whatever that exchange was cured me of the constipation of the writing kind from which I'd been suffering since January. Pretty cool, huh?

 

So...that's the story. It's better than the first serious boyfriend one anyway. Trust me.

 

Thanks, Vigo. That was rad. Let's do it again soon.

 

 

1. I asked him how he'd like to be known for this entry. That's what he selected.

Silly Things Excite Me

YOU GUYS! YOUGUYS YOUGUYS YOUGUYS!!!

I have something to show you. And I'm so excited about it. It's completely weird and awesome and I feel somewhat triumphant although I've had nothing to do with it. And now y'all will know just what a freak I am but...

Last night, at Owen's Birthday Bash, Acr0nym captured a picture.

A picture of the back of my head.

And this picture? It makes me so happy! Although, when Acr0nym showed it to me for the first time and I went, "Holy shitsnax!" he thought maybe he'd done something wrong. He hadn't. He'd done something just exactly right.

Witness: The Silver Fox.





And before you ask, yes, that is all natural curl (the bane of my teenage existence) and no, I don't really have a lot of hair...I just have a really big nugget and yes, I need a haircut (next week it's scheduled) and yes, I slouch. My posture is terrible.

Still...YOU GUYS! My Hair! It's going silver!!! In glorious sheets of glistening grey!

I had absolutely no idea there was such a stark contrast between front/side and back. (Clearly my worries and crazy haven't yet hit my backside...of my head anyway.)

It's kinda...if you squint real hard...a little punk rock! No wonder my stylist won't let me apply a drop of color to it. It's...it's...it's REALLY COOL! (How do you like all that emphasis?)

WOOO HOOO! Look at all that GREY!

Shuddup. Stop laughing (Delta Bravo, I'm totally looking at you o_O).

It's the little things, y'all.

I know. I know. You think this is weird. I AM weird. That's the best part.

Tired but Satisfied

This has been, in some ways, one of the nicest, most relaxing weekends I can remember having in quite awhile.

Even though the absence of Acr0nym especially has been weird and strangely hard - we've not gone this long without talking at all pretty much ever since we met with the exception of last year's Defcon and then my cruise during which there was no way to communicate - having D&D here from Seattle and spending the majority of my weekend in their company was certainly a most welcome and delightful diversion.

It was a weekend full of brunches, wine, clubbing, and friends...some I see frequently, some I don't see frequently enough. Even Lex came out to the club last night with an old friend of his (who we rarely see) and had a great time. It was good energy almost all around.

Tomorrow it's back to work audit stress, Lex's car stress, foot stress. But tonight? I'm just happy to say I got to ride on a few rainbows and bubbles and puppies and kittens this weekend. This? This is good.

I'm almost there. I can feel the difference.

Things That Have Made Me Happy Just Today

1) I'm a HUGE Zelda fan. Huge, I say. Specifically, I'm a huge Ocarina of Time fan.

At one point in the game, Link goes to Goron City and, while he's there, this is the music that plays:



I'd even totally recommend it as safe for my mom. Hi, Mom! Dare I say Bahamas to you? I. Love. This. Music.

And today, Acr0nym sent me an mp3 of it. Hey, Acr0nym? I heart your face.

He also sent me mp3's that I'm now using as my notification tones on my Droid. The first, for my text notification, is Navi saying, "Hello! Look!" The other, for my e-mail notification, is the sound one would get when they received another heart piece container. Again, all from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. But you'd only really understand if you'd played the game. Like, a lot.

I am such a dork.

2) And then there's what I had for dinner:




Mini blueberry pies from scratch - still warm from the oven. Oh yeah, Baby (I only ate one, FYI).

3) Then there were mid-day clandestine virtual work smooches.

4) And also? Being reminded of this song (probably not recommended for The Mama...I think she'd think it was too loud):



I saw these guys live in the mid-90's. Toward the end of the show (in San Bernardino, Armpit of America), they asked for requests. I requested Rosemary. I swear. Crickets chirped. But they played it. Just for me. And I'll never forget it.

5) Realizing that Peej not only kicks ass but is now Chuck Norris.

6) Having had the following conversation with Acr0nym yesterday:

me: Have you ever considered that I may be crazy?Acr0nym: Yes, absolutely.
me: And?Acr0nym: You don't seem any crazier than a vast number of other people I know.In fact, saner.
  Also, asking "Am I crazy?" is actually EXTREMELY rare for actual crazy people.me: HA! True.  Good to know.Just wondering if you think I'm as crazy as I wonder if I am.Acr0nym: Oh, except for multiple personality disorder, seeing stuff other personalities have done. Those guys ask it.  Also, no, I almost certainly don't.It's like art, or writing. Self-criticism is way higher than actually generated by externals.  Wow. That sentence SUCKED.me: heh. I got your point.

  Also, I don't have multiple personalities.

  Just the one.

  That's way more than enough.OK good. Occasionally paranoia sets in after a particularly embarrassing meltdown and I just wanted to check that you A) don't think I'm ALL THAT crazy (like the drunken lady crazies the other Matts were talking about yesterday) and B) that you still adore me even if I am full of crazy.Acr0nym: Oh, heh, nah, your meltdowns are actually pretty tame.... Like, for example, you didn't tip ANYONE'S scooter over, or leave in handcuffs.

  And, B) is true.

And then waking up this morning to find this post from the Divatologist and realizing that, just because I know I'm crazy, doesn't mean I'm alone in my bullshit. The Divatologist and the Maestro give me hope (which she would also say is bullshit...hope, that is.)

I love you, guys.

7) Realizing that the work I thought I had to delve deeply into had already been done a few years' back and what I really needed was just to re-visit the homestead, take a look around, and go, "Yeah. No. We don't live here anymore."

8) Coffee. Specifically Coda Coffee. I'm fairly certain Tim and Tommy are 2 of my favorite people pretty much ever. Which means so is TC who introduced me to the Thwaites and their coffee. Thanks, TC! I won't see you Friday but maybe we can meet up for coffee sometime next week?

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's another mini pie I have to eat.

Damn! I do make a mighty fine pie crust.

Open Sesame

I have two favorite flowers.

The gerber daisy:

Photo taken by Forest Purnell

And the sunflower:

Photo from the US Dept of Agriculture

Neither of them are exotic or elegant. Neither of them are particularly delicate - although the daisy's sturdy appearance is rather deceiving. Neither will likely ever be used as metaphor for an attractive woman's nature or form. Those are reserved for roses, lilies, iris - all lovely in their own right. But not what I prefer.

What the two of them have in common - and what appeals to me - is their openness...their bright, shining, freshly scrubbed faces and sturdy stalks. There is nothing closed off or hidden. They simply are what they are - you can see what they are - as they nod and smile, as their beautiful blossoms sometimes become too heavy for their stems.

When I first encountered a gerber daisy 20 years ago, I immediately nicknamed them "happy flowers". They just look happy! And they make me happy just to look upon them.

Other flowers are secretive, deceptive. They may conceal bee stings, spider bites, thorn pricks. Hurty type things you would not know existed until they were blown out. And almost every flower, eventually, blows out...unless it was a dud to begin with.

I love things that are open...flowers, windows, the 24-hour grocery, a good bottle of wine, opportunities, minds...relationships.

There's the metaphor. See what I did there?

Relationships that are open - whether it's by inviting other parties into an established relationship between 2 people or simply by two people remaining open, transparent, and honest with each other - provide me with much happy (on both counts). 

There is little room for doubt, jealousy, insecurity, angst, anxiety when there is nothing hidden or concealed.

And, let's face it, I've got enough random, free-floating anxiety just generally that I don't need or want to create more by lying, hiding, veiling my intent or my feelings. I'm not threatening. I promise. I'm on the up and up. I have no desire to rob someone else's joy to enhance my own. In fact, I am more likely to deny myself my own happiness if I think someone else might suffer because of it.

Really.

So, for the three of us to sit on the couch together as the afternoon sun streamed in through the windows as we joked, laughed, talked about...I don't know...whatever (I don't recall), feels like how a gerber daisy or sunflower looks.

Open. Beautiful. Kissed by the sun. Fully exposed and vulnerable - yet, safe to admire - and adored by those engulfed in its presence.

I love my life.

Exquisite

It's the unexpected in the ordinary places, the corner in which you've forgotten to look.

The sweetest of all surprises resides across the table over shared naan and stilton-stuffed brioche.

A soft smile, a laugh in the dark, a comfortable, pregnant pause, a sigh.

No explanation necessary. Unspoken, yet understood.

A hand slides into a glove made for it. Content.

I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content. -Walt Whitman from Song of Myself

Swing Barter, Barter, Barter. Sah-wing Barter

In regards to an entry over at Jane In Her Infinite Budget, J.Q. Public suggested I ought to learn how to do some basic car maintenance type things all by myself. Things like oil changes and brake pad replacement. In his mind, this takes just a few tools plus some instructions and one, such as myself, should be all set to go. Self-sufficient like.

In his defense, he doesn't really know me very well.

Because if he did? He'd understand there is a reason people avoid giving me sharp, pointy objects or  suggesting I do my own car repairs.

It's not a gender thing, mind you. It's not that I believe I can't do something simply because I have a vagina. It's that I've learned from painful experience just how not-mechanically-inclined my brain is wired.

For instance, when Lex and I first moved into the Grotto, I bought a desk - some assembly required. Lex told me he'd help assemble it but he didn't have time during my timeline - meaning right this very second. So I started assembling it on my own.

3 hours later, Lex found me curled up in a little ball on my bedroom floor, pounding the floor with my fist, and crying in frustration (this is not an exaggeration). There might have been glue in my hair.

It wasn't because there weren't detailed instructions or that the assembly required anything more than a screwdriver, it's that when I try to follow written and drawn instructions, something is lost in the translation between the written page and my brain. As a consequence, the desk was (and still is) put together, in some aspects, upside down and backwards rendering it rickety and unstable. I cringe every time Vinny jumps on it.

Currently, I can do 3 maintenance-type things on my car:

1) I can put gas in it.
2) I can fill the windshield wiper fluid reservoir.
3) I can check and fill the tires with air...but not until I was taught just a few months ago.

I suspect I ought to learn how to check the oil first before I learn how to change it, yes?

Anyway!

What's great is that I don't actually have to know these things per se. As my circle of friends widens, the talents and knowledge contained in the circle grows with it. I have lawyer friends, engineer friends, mechanic (Mr. P!) and electronic genius friends (shout out to the BFF for fixing my dysfunctional computer speakers tonight). I have friends who cook and craft and sew. I have friends who write code and design websites (the beloved modchen, for one). I have friends who massage and friends who are medical professionals. I have friends who can actually grow things - like food! And friends who know where to get the best deals (thank you, TC. Sincerely.)

I have places and people in which to turn when I need all manner of practical, wonderful advice and assistance.

In exchange, I can emotionally counsel, plan parties, clean. I can help you find an extra $20 in your already tight budget. I can inspire and motivate. I can review and edit your term paper, resume, article. I can help you move. I can hold your hand. I can do your taxes. I can organize your life. I can feed your cat while you're out of town. I can drive you to the airport so you can get out of town. I can bake a cherry pie and brownies and the best damn chocolate chip or ginger cookies you've ever tasted. I can be your social buffer or your social instigator. I can make you laugh. I can heal.

As the budget tightens and as unexpected potential disasters arise, the more willing I am to ask friends for advice and assistance. In turn, I'm increasingly more willing to free up time to respond in kind.

The barter system works. It is alive. It is well. What an amazing system it is. I'm awfully glad I can call on it and contribute.

So I say, tonight, if any of you need any of the things I can do? Please! By all means. Call me. E-mail me. Facebook me. I want to give you what I can. It comes back. In the end.

Things That Warm the Soul

1) A hot cup of tea.

2) Saying I'm sorry and receiving an "I love you" back.

3) Explaining my crazy to someone who needs to know and receiving a "Thank you. That helps a lot" back rather than a "go away".

4) Laughing...at myself, at a silly situation, at my crazy.

5) Making someone else laugh.

6) Stretching.

7) Kitty snuggles...except when they've just coughed up a hairball, have bad breath, and want to lick my face. Still...even then it's nice...kinda.

8) Having a few friends reach out and say "Hey! Can I do this for you?" That's really nice.

9) Having something - even if it's just an ear - for a new friend.

10) Getting a heck of a deal on supremely good coffee.