Wednesday, August 17, 2016

The Winds of Change (Joce)

I'm in one of those blissful singlehood in-between-times -- my heart isn't broken, I've dealt with the black hole sun of the early summer, I'm feeling no pressure to pursue the flirtations and potential relationships of my present and future -- I'm just riding the smoky, sunny wave of August.

It's a good time to drive a different route to work, to take a long weekend for no specific reason, to tackle a project that I've been meaning to tackle for years. And so, I'm moving on, soon, and I hope you'll join me.

** UpDATE**
The Big Book of Bad Dates has officially moved to I've migrated all old posts and any new posts will be posted there, not here (I've had a spate of dates recently so don't despair, there is always more to come). And, if you want conversational updates you can always, but infrequently, hear what's up (or why I'm down) on the Couples Skate podcast. Thank you, as always, for your kindness and loyalty.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

The Fox in the Cemetery 2 (Kipling)

I know you weren't expecting, or probably wanting, a response to your last email. And even though I know I've said more than my share, and I've been aggressive in my delivery (which I realize is ineffective), I feel compelled to say more. So, do with this what you will: contemplate it, consider it, disagree with it or simply delete it. Please know that it doesn't come from a state of "anguish," but genuine concern and care for you. 

When I first met you, which was around last Christmas, I felt so sorry for you that you had nowhere and nobody to spend the holidays with. I felt that it must be difficult for you to be in a new place, a foreigner, with only your classmates for company. And I thought, "I would like to help him feel at home." As much as my family gets on my nerves, we make our holidays count and spend them doing fun, and enviable things. There are delicious meals and games and lots of laughter. How could anybody not want that? So, soon, we spent time together, and with my family, and I believe you enjoyed those times and the people. I saw it as though you were finding your place - in a town, in a country, in a family, with the pets. We never considered you, nor treated you as anything other than as one of us. And how could anyone not want that?
And then a couple of days ago I was reading an interview with the writer Charles D'Ambrosio and this paragraph caught me up.
"You’re always kind of there and not there, sitting in the room but also watching the room, alert to some other, less innocent possibility. That distance feels safe, but it also stirs up the most intense feelings of loss and longing, the dream of making the distance go away, of ditching the divided self and all its tensions and simply being there—you know, just crossing that threshold and coming inside, coming home. But it’s hard to do, hard for me to do, anyway.”