Sunday Over Easy

The lights were off and candles were lit. Smoke wafted to the ceiling. Tasha's face was shadowed. She was drinking. I'd just gotten up, but it seemed like a good idea.

"Hey."

"Hey Missy. What time did you get home?"

"Not sure. I left after 6. Where did you go?"

"Oh, Antony called so I went to his place."

"Really?"

"It was good to see him again and really talk because now I can finally wake up."

I was so riveted by Tasha's story that I barely touched my breakfast/lunch/dinner mimosa throughout the whole telling. You know that great break up talk you get to have when you're at a place where you're truly friends? There's no fear of hurting either party so you're finally straight up with each other. You admit to all the bad pent up feelings. There's no glossing over the details; no, it's not you it's me shit.

You were too clingy and sat around waiting for me to call... never showed that you cared...repeat the same stories...never talk to me...do everything for me...do nothing for me... Sex got routine... We stopped having sex...never go out... were mean to each other ... argued all the time ... never argued ... Couldn't stand waiting for you to get ready... Your drug habit scared me ... Why don't you ever party with me? The chase was gone. I never felt I could trust you. And on and on... Of course you leave out the most hurtful ones. I don't think anyone ever has the heart to say: I knew from the start you would never be the one, but I wanted the company. I can do better.

I wonder if a good relationship can survive in our post post modern, neo existentialist pseudo anarchist uber scientific world. A recent study showed that the hot phase of getting together putters out between one and two years. The lustiness dwindles into that comfort snuggle zone. I envision it as a tag tournament. Both of you take turns being "it" until winded, then collapse, and find it's too tiring to play, it's nice to finally relax, but, there's a jabbing elbow or a kicking leg at times.

I used to believe that when you found your soul's counterpart in another, there'd be no need for a tug of war. It would be ok to share each other's minute details. It would be like you were an unbeatable team to take on the world together.

Forget about it all being magic. It comes down to making decisions. You decide to let yourself fall. Admit it, subconsciously or not, at some point you do have to sign on. I thought that relationships take work meant it was all about avoiding or resolving conflicts. But now I see it as maintaining a client. It starts off with wooing them against all other competitors, making a big show to prove you are their finest representation. But it doesn't stop there. You have to make sure that their needs are met, keep them happy, aware that you are the best and no one else can fulfill their requirements. It's easy to forget all this once the big presentation is over with, the first project is aced and the celebration done. The contract has been inked, yes, but will the account be renewed?

It's easy to let things lapse. Even friendships ought to be nurtured. Think of the best friend you seldom get to see. It's all hugs and kisses bumping into him/her at some social gathering. What if you lived together? If you hugged them one morning for no reason wouldn't they think it odd? Is proximity some sort of deterrent? Do we get desensitized from consistency or have we been trained against showing affection?

Looking from my untasted drink to Tasha's unshed eyes I felt an overwhelming impulse to hug her. But I refrained because it would seem weird.

"I don't want to play games," was Tasha's conclusion. "I want my life to be simple."

Where did my glamorous role model for hedonism go? Had I mistaken Tasha's fearlessness for something not so different from my own wall of protection? I realized that if we both had excess baggage, she must have checked hers out of sight whereas I was holding tightly to my carry-on.

I decided against telling her about Seth McCoy, who just sent me a text asking me to go out for dinner. I decided to hold off because I wasn't sure if there was anything to be excited about. I suddenly realized how sad I was. I could let myself get all worked up over someone who was bad for me because it was easy. Because I knew it wouldn't last, it was safe and I couldn't really get hurt. Instead of being happy that I'd met someone I liked, I thought only about being careful. It wasn't the careful of taking things slow, but the jaded reminder to not have feelings for someone, to not care, or pretend that I didn't. I couldn't imagine looking into someone's eyes without flinching.

But we're not talking damaged goods here. Fragile sure. In need to be held upright, definitely. It's scary when you think you've made all the necessary repairs to discover that most of them aren't holding anymore. I was finally realizing that I'd been going about it wrong all along. It was time to stop trying to think of it all as a salvaging job, but take the opportunity to build bigger and better.