Achieving epiphany
I think I left off on Friday, when I was waiting for the promised phone call from B. And wait I did… all day. I rolled out of the office a few minutes early, wanting to get home at a decent time to hit the gym before meeting up with JupiterGirl at Café Barney on Granville. I worked out, alternating between apathy, anxiety and bewilderment as to why B hadn’t called. Surely our first meeting hadn’t gone as well as one would’ve hoped, but I had thought that we had made a connection. I voiced this to JupiterGirl and we treated the problem as a rubix cube, turning it over, twisting and manipulating the situation to try and get all the colors lined up. In between getting dripped on by a defective skylight and engaging in verbal copulation with our server. Who spent a lot of time with his derriere pointed in JupiterGirl’s direction. He’s lucky she didn’t bite it.
At the behest of JupiterGirl I decided to text B and put the ball in his court. I sent him something non-committal, I think I wrote “B: I thought we had a connection and that I was going to be the mother of your children. What happened? I love you.” Kidding. The text sent, we chatted of other things such as work – fun! - and JupiterGirl’s burgeoning relationship with a fellow POF member. Long story short, B and I ended up exchanging a couple of texts and, having had two drinks, I thought it prudent to invite him to join us for a drink as he was just getting off work. He said sure and, true to his word, he showed up around 11pm having just gotten off work no less. I must say I felt bad: that was one hell of a long day for the guy. After shooting JupiterGirl several “finish your damn beer and go” looks she bid us a fond farewell and I was left to chat with B. And chat we did. Until the bar closed. At which point we went in search of coffee. There was none to be had so he walked me to my car in the pouring ran, sans umbrella while I almost removed his eye with the jagged and exposed spine of mine. We shared a moment and then he disappeared, off to find a bus or cab home.
I was then left with the conundrum that JupiterGirl had left with me: he had initially said that he wanted to see me on Saturday. Given our impromptu (but thoroughly enjoyable) get together on Friday night, was our date for Saturday still on? Three times in one week? Certainly he would be sick of me.
My phone rang around noon the next day and it was him! I was surprised and relieved. He invited me to his neck of the woods… to his apartment to be more specific. Because my mother is sure that no one could possibly wish to do anything other than rape and murder me and stuff my body into their freezer, I gave her the relevant details. I must say that I still hadn’t quite got a read on B yet, and he had affirmed the same thing of me. I guess we are both quite inscrutable people. Makes for some lengthy silences, complemented by furtive eye darting and nervous smiling. Okay, that’s just how I deal with it.
His place was nice. It was spacious and really, really clean. I surreptiously checked for body parts in the freezer when his back was turned. He was listening to some really great music that I haven’t discovered yet and it was dawning on me that there was significantly more to him that I had initially anticipated. Somehow he was better looking than he had been the day before. He was very complementary. I don’t get a lot of complements, and I handled these with definite grace and aplomb. I said things like “uh huh” and “okay…”. It was stellar. I’m pretty sure he was wondering what mental institution I had managed to escape from.
We went out for lunch. I went back to his place for a cup of tea. We had some really interesting conversation. I felt challenged (and I don’t mean pushing the “pull” door challenged): he asked some difficult questions and I realized that the answers weren’t as readily available as they ought to have been. Then he did two things that set the tone for the rest of the weekend. He put his hand out to me and, because I am totally keen on handshakes, I thought that he meant to shake my hand so I put mine hand in his. I was mistaken: he wanted to hold my hand. For some reason this wigged me out entirely. Yes. I am a grown, thirty year old woman with some modicum of intelligence and confidence (or so I thought), who was engaged in some deep conversation with an intellectually and physically attractive man and I could not leave my hand in his. I pulled away, mumbling something utterly unintelligible and embarrassing myself totally. What the hell was wrong with me? And then he asked me to do something that at first blush seemed easy. It wasn’t easy and I would like to take this opportunity to pass along the challenge to you. He asked me when the last time was that I was inorexably happy. I opened my mouth before I even thought about it. Surely there were countless times when I had been giddy with happiness… but wait… when was the last time? I was mildly disturbed. He seemed to understand this and told me to go away and think about it, and when I came across that moment to write it down and I could show it to him, or I could keep it to myself. I left shortly thereafter and thus began a totally unexpected and introspective journey.
I honestly didn’t give it much thought at first. I figured that something would come to me. I went about my business, picked up some movies from Rogers, returned some phone calls. I was feeling a bit under the weather so I thought I would watch Casablanca and turn in at like 10pm on a Saturday night. Being single is hot. And yet I ended up sitting in my goddamn chair in my living room and staring into space as I tried to define happiness, remember the times in my life when I had been the most happy and figure out what in the hell was keeping me from being more happy more often. I had managed to write some things down by 10 at night and I thought I had the situation sussed, but I didn’t. I slept fitfully and woke up early the next day. I lay in bed pondering the situation. I was amazed that B’s challenge was taking up so much of my emotional energy. I got up. Sat in the chair some more and then it came to me. I had my epiphany moment. A myriad of things fell into place and I saw clearly what B must have caught a glimpse of. I’m reserved. I withdraw. I thought I had my shit together, I thought I was doing well on my path to self-actualization and I’m actually still hanging out on the bottom rung. I don’t put myself out there because I don’t want to get hurt or feel pain. I don’t live in the moment because I’m too busy lamenting about the past and obsessing about the future. I have to fill silences. I never simply am. When I start to feel happy I convince myself that, for whatever reason, I don’t deserve it. If you never feel extraordinary happiness you never have to deal with that happiness being taken away from you.
And that was it. I had a breakthrough. I felt a little bit like crying, but this was likely due to the fact that I’d had two nights of lackluster and unsatisfactory sleep. I was keyed up. I called my mom and explained it all. She agreed. I wanted to shout it to people passing by on the sidewalk. And the day was brilliant. Why? I don’t know! The birdsong was beautific. The world was my oyster. Things were good. Why didn’t I allow myself to feel this way more often? I allowed myself to feel excited about a number of things. I decided the glass was half full. Holy crap.
I started to write it down. I felt an amazing sense of thanks to B for putting this challenge to me. How often do we sit down and try and answer hard questions about ourselves? It took me hours to sort this one out. I was writing and I was talking to my mom and I had this renewed zest for life and I got another call on the line: it was B and he wanted to check in to see how my morning was going. He seemed bemused my ecstatic state of being. I was brimming with exuberance which, as those who know me can attest, is not the norm. He said he was glad to be able to turn me on to it. And that’s what it was, it was the ultimate intellectual turn on.
The key now will to remember this, to hold on to it, and to incorporate it into my life. I want to feel more highs. I know that there will be the obligatory and associated lows, but I don’t want to go through life feeling mediocre anymore. I’m excited. I’m happy that there are people like B out there, regardless of what transpires between us.
You might say that, this morning at 11:14, I was inorexably happy.
At the behest of JupiterGirl I decided to text B and put the ball in his court. I sent him something non-committal, I think I wrote “B: I thought we had a connection and that I was going to be the mother of your children. What happened? I love you.” Kidding. The text sent, we chatted of other things such as work – fun! - and JupiterGirl’s burgeoning relationship with a fellow POF member. Long story short, B and I ended up exchanging a couple of texts and, having had two drinks, I thought it prudent to invite him to join us for a drink as he was just getting off work. He said sure and, true to his word, he showed up around 11pm having just gotten off work no less. I must say I felt bad: that was one hell of a long day for the guy. After shooting JupiterGirl several “finish your damn beer and go” looks she bid us a fond farewell and I was left to chat with B. And chat we did. Until the bar closed. At which point we went in search of coffee. There was none to be had so he walked me to my car in the pouring ran, sans umbrella while I almost removed his eye with the jagged and exposed spine of mine. We shared a moment and then he disappeared, off to find a bus or cab home.
I was then left with the conundrum that JupiterGirl had left with me: he had initially said that he wanted to see me on Saturday. Given our impromptu (but thoroughly enjoyable) get together on Friday night, was our date for Saturday still on? Three times in one week? Certainly he would be sick of me.
My phone rang around noon the next day and it was him! I was surprised and relieved. He invited me to his neck of the woods… to his apartment to be more specific. Because my mother is sure that no one could possibly wish to do anything other than rape and murder me and stuff my body into their freezer, I gave her the relevant details. I must say that I still hadn’t quite got a read on B yet, and he had affirmed the same thing of me. I guess we are both quite inscrutable people. Makes for some lengthy silences, complemented by furtive eye darting and nervous smiling. Okay, that’s just how I deal with it.
His place was nice. It was spacious and really, really clean. I surreptiously checked for body parts in the freezer when his back was turned. He was listening to some really great music that I haven’t discovered yet and it was dawning on me that there was significantly more to him that I had initially anticipated. Somehow he was better looking than he had been the day before. He was very complementary. I don’t get a lot of complements, and I handled these with definite grace and aplomb. I said things like “uh huh” and “okay…”. It was stellar. I’m pretty sure he was wondering what mental institution I had managed to escape from.
We went out for lunch. I went back to his place for a cup of tea. We had some really interesting conversation. I felt challenged (and I don’t mean pushing the “pull” door challenged): he asked some difficult questions and I realized that the answers weren’t as readily available as they ought to have been. Then he did two things that set the tone for the rest of the weekend. He put his hand out to me and, because I am totally keen on handshakes, I thought that he meant to shake my hand so I put mine hand in his. I was mistaken: he wanted to hold my hand. For some reason this wigged me out entirely. Yes. I am a grown, thirty year old woman with some modicum of intelligence and confidence (or so I thought), who was engaged in some deep conversation with an intellectually and physically attractive man and I could not leave my hand in his. I pulled away, mumbling something utterly unintelligible and embarrassing myself totally. What the hell was wrong with me? And then he asked me to do something that at first blush seemed easy. It wasn’t easy and I would like to take this opportunity to pass along the challenge to you. He asked me when the last time was that I was inorexably happy. I opened my mouth before I even thought about it. Surely there were countless times when I had been giddy with happiness… but wait… when was the last time? I was mildly disturbed. He seemed to understand this and told me to go away and think about it, and when I came across that moment to write it down and I could show it to him, or I could keep it to myself. I left shortly thereafter and thus began a totally unexpected and introspective journey.
I honestly didn’t give it much thought at first. I figured that something would come to me. I went about my business, picked up some movies from Rogers, returned some phone calls. I was feeling a bit under the weather so I thought I would watch Casablanca and turn in at like 10pm on a Saturday night. Being single is hot. And yet I ended up sitting in my goddamn chair in my living room and staring into space as I tried to define happiness, remember the times in my life when I had been the most happy and figure out what in the hell was keeping me from being more happy more often. I had managed to write some things down by 10 at night and I thought I had the situation sussed, but I didn’t. I slept fitfully and woke up early the next day. I lay in bed pondering the situation. I was amazed that B’s challenge was taking up so much of my emotional energy. I got up. Sat in the chair some more and then it came to me. I had my epiphany moment. A myriad of things fell into place and I saw clearly what B must have caught a glimpse of. I’m reserved. I withdraw. I thought I had my shit together, I thought I was doing well on my path to self-actualization and I’m actually still hanging out on the bottom rung. I don’t put myself out there because I don’t want to get hurt or feel pain. I don’t live in the moment because I’m too busy lamenting about the past and obsessing about the future. I have to fill silences. I never simply am. When I start to feel happy I convince myself that, for whatever reason, I don’t deserve it. If you never feel extraordinary happiness you never have to deal with that happiness being taken away from you.
And that was it. I had a breakthrough. I felt a little bit like crying, but this was likely due to the fact that I’d had two nights of lackluster and unsatisfactory sleep. I was keyed up. I called my mom and explained it all. She agreed. I wanted to shout it to people passing by on the sidewalk. And the day was brilliant. Why? I don’t know! The birdsong was beautific. The world was my oyster. Things were good. Why didn’t I allow myself to feel this way more often? I allowed myself to feel excited about a number of things. I decided the glass was half full. Holy crap.
I started to write it down. I felt an amazing sense of thanks to B for putting this challenge to me. How often do we sit down and try and answer hard questions about ourselves? It took me hours to sort this one out. I was writing and I was talking to my mom and I had this renewed zest for life and I got another call on the line: it was B and he wanted to check in to see how my morning was going. He seemed bemused my ecstatic state of being. I was brimming with exuberance which, as those who know me can attest, is not the norm. He said he was glad to be able to turn me on to it. And that’s what it was, it was the ultimate intellectual turn on.
The key now will to remember this, to hold on to it, and to incorporate it into my life. I want to feel more highs. I know that there will be the obligatory and associated lows, but I don’t want to go through life feeling mediocre anymore. I’m excited. I’m happy that there are people like B out there, regardless of what transpires between us.
You might say that, this morning at 11:14, I was inorexably happy.
posted by Duder at 11:11 PM
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