A Sorta Fairytale

As you'll recall, I went Speed Dating six months ago, and I absolutely loved it. In fact, it was one of the turning points in my whole NYC experience so far. It was the first time that I felt a connection of any sort when I spent the evening pursuing and getting Mr. Handsome, and even though ultimately I knew he wasn't the guy for me, my 5 minute interaction with the Cuban did spawn a much lengthier interaction, one that made me feel alive again, one that made me see the things I want and the things I don't want. However, as I approach the Delancey Rooftop Bar once more, my feeling is different this time. I'm not as enthused to be going mainly because I said goodbye to the Brit just a coupla hours ago, and he is on my mind. I am thinking about the great weekend we just shared, and I am considering his impending restlessness with this whole situation and with me. It's Sunday around 6:30 pm, and I call Paola when I get above ground. She is waiting somewhere on the street for me. She tells me she's by the Dunkin Donuts. I keep walking until I see her, and we hug. I say, "Hey, are you excited to go Speed Dating?" She says, "Yeah. I'm actually gonna put some names down this time. How about you?" I say, "Yeah, I'm excited, but I'm thinking about giving up my blog." She says, "What? Really? Have you met someone?" I say, "Yeah, I've been dating this British guy, and he's great. I'm not sure if I should finish my blog or not." She's really excited to hear about the Brit.

We continue on until we get to the Delancey, and once we get there we're directed upstairs just like last time. This all seems very familiar, and then when we reach the rooftop bar, it's like deja vu. I'm transported back six months ago in an instant. The setting is all the same, but I am completely different. I won't be able to speed date in quite the same way because I am changed from back in October. I was so open then and so free and so ready to make a connection. Tonight I am only second guessing my decision to take a break from the Brit. As Paola and I are standing in line, a lady approaches us and says she's with CBS news and is doing a story about break-up etiquette and asks us if we want to be interviewed. I say, "Sure, I'll do it." I follow her over to a corner near the balcony, and the camera man attaches a microphone to my dress. She tells me to look at her and not the camera and says she's just going to ask me some questions. She says, "So do you have any funny break-up stories?" I think for a moment, and I can't recall any hilarious ones off the top of my head, and she continues, "Or maybe some really heartbreaking ones or just any that stick out in your head." Hmm...all of my break-ups have been really sad, and I haven't had one in quite some time so I just think about what happened with the Cuban, and I say, "Well, with the last guy I was dating, apparently we just stopped dating, and I didn't even realize it. He was really enthusiastic one minute, and then he just stopped calling, and I never really knew what happened." This leads into her question of is there a right and a wrong way to break up with someone. I say, "I think the right way is to just be honest with the person, and say hey I have a problem with this specific thing, and I think the wrong way is to just do the phasing out thing and not say anything." The interviewer asks me what my longest relationship was. I say 7 years. She says, "Wow, mine was 9 years. I've got you beat." I say, "That's a long time. You should get out there and go speed dating. It's really fun." She says, "Really? It looks fun." I say, "Yeah, my feeling is that a lot of girls don't really put themselves out there enough, and if they have a couple of bads dates they're quick to say that there are no good men out there, but I disagree. I think dating is a number's game, and if you just do it enough eventually you'll find your prince charming." The interviewer and the camera guy both kind of crack up at that last bit, and I do realize I'm being way too goofy to make the final cut probably. Finally the interviewer says they're going to be interviewing some experts on the subject and asks me if I have a question I want to field to them about break up etiquette. I say, "I'm wondering if when you know something is not working out if it's better just to end it and go your separate but friendly ways or if it's better to discuss everything because I sometimes feel that when you talk about everything you can sometimes convince yourselves that something is right and that you can get through it even when it's wrong?" After that, it's a wrap, and I feel happy just because I'm realizing how comfortable I'm starting to feel on camera. It's a good exercise in self exposure.

Afterwards, I go over and sit with Paola. We talk as we're waiting for Dawn. Eventually she arrives, and I tell her all about the interview. Shortly thereafter, we start being instructed to sit against the wall if we're a girl. This time I end up sitting right next to Dawn. Last time, I was sitting next to a stranger, and I kind of liked the fact that there was no interaction with anyone other than the guys, but it doesn't really matter since I haven't seen anyone that has caught my eye so far. Once the bell rings, we get started, and the first guy I get is very New York. He's got the accent and the attitude, and he's really boring. I think we talk about work or something related to his life, and it's just very standard. Unlike last time, the bell is not ringing super fast, and instead it seems like we have a full on five minutes, and let me tell you, it drags. When the bell finally rings, the next guy comes and then the next one. The host of this event is really lame. He's walking around between rounds mingling, and honestly I think he's giving us way longer than 5 minutes a piece. Some of these conversations seem like at least 7 or 8 minutes and not in a good way. I have surface conversation one after the other with each guy, and none of them are jumping out at me. There are no keepers in the bunch. There are a few here and there who have a little bit of a sparkle but definitely not a spark. There's an Australian guy who catches my attention quite simply because I like his accent. He says, "So your roommate tells me you're a professional dater." I say, "What?" and I look at Dawn. I then go onto explain that I do like dating, but I'm not a professional by any means. Once the round is over I say to Dawn, "Stop telling people I'm a professional dater. You're gonna kill my game." Oh man, I gotta get out of this game sooner than later.

The guys keep coming, and there's a guy from Italy and a guy from Spain who both catch my attention. It's then that I realize that I definitely dig the foreign guys or the ones who have a little something different to offer. I don't really see myself marrying an American at this point. I mean sure, anything is possible, but at this phase in my life I'm so fascinated by that which is different to me. I think that naturally happens the longer you date and the longer you hold out to find someone. If I think about it, had I married someone when I was 23, he most definitely would have been an all American guy, and it's not that there would have been anything wrong with him if he were the guy I was meant to marry, but because that didn't happen, and I myself have continued to evolve, I think someone who's a little more off the beaten track is what fits my current personality. I don't know if it's because the rounds are at least a couple of minutes too long or because the guys are a little too standard, but I find myself feeling extremely wiped out about 3/4 of the way through, and I'm just ready for it to be over. I keep looking around to see if we're almost to the end of the guys. Finally, finally the last one comes around, and I realize there was no the Cuban in the bunch, and I start to acknowledge that maybe that really was a moment in time, and our little interaction was not something you share everyday, and we really did have chemistry. I sort of smile at realizing this place holds too many memories of my interaction with him, but at the same time what is surprisingly more prevalent on my mind is the Brit and how definitely none of these guys even came close to him in looks or personality. He is the one I want to be with tonight, not this room full of potentially surface interactions, and so something rises up in me, and I go downstairs, and I text him, "Hi the Brit (insert real name). I've done some thinking, and I don't need the 10 days. Let's get together and talk."

This is totally my impulsivity and my disinterest in this speed dating event rising up. I'm wondering what he will say, and he writes back almost instantaneously, "Tonight?" I write back, "Yes, I'm on the LES at 168 Delancey St., but I can meet you wherever." He writes back that he's finishing up with a friend, but he'll be here in about half an hour. I am giddy with anticipation. In the meanwhile, I go back up to the rooftop. I get intercepted by one of the guys I definitely was not interested in, and he asks me if he can buy me a drink. I say, "Oh, I already have a drink. I'm just sitting over there with my friends, but you can join us if you want." I go back and sit down next to Paola and Dawn and a few random speed dating guys that are still lingering around. None of them are appealing to me including the new guy who comes and joins us. I put my phone on the table so I will notice when the Brit calls, and I try to participate in this conversation, but it only reminds me more and more how dull this guy is. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure he's perfect for someone, and if I were on a full scale date with him, I would be giving it more effort, but as I'm sitting here all I can think about is the Brit and how maybe I'm ready to give all of this up. Maybe I've found a great guy, and maybe I'm ready to give up the searching. Afterall, isn't that what you do once you've found someone you connect with and can build something with? After about half an hour, I see my phone light up because the Brit is calling me, and immediately I jump up while the poor guy is probably in mid sentence, and I say, "I'm sorry. I have a call." I excuse myself to the hallway, and I say, "Hello." It's the Brit. I am so happy to hear his voice, with or without the accent but obviously with the accent because that's who he is. I tell him where I'm at, and I ask him if he wants to come meet me. I tell him this bar is pretty quiet downstairs. He says, "Okay, but I have one question. Are you drunk?" I laugh, and I say, "No, not at all." I think it's understandable. He tells me he'll be there shortly.

I go back upstairs, and I wait, and I'm super excited to see the Brit. He blows the other guys out of the water. He's the one I want to be with. Granted, I haven't thought every option all the way through, but I'm impetuous, and when something pops into my head I just do it, and this feels right, and I don't want to go home disappointed with speed dating and comparing it to the high I had the last time I did it. I want to end the night with the Brit feeling high from just being with him. When I see his text pop through, I can't read it fast enough. It reads simply, "I'm downstairs." I say to Dawn who is sitting across from me, "He's here. I'm gonna go meet him." I bound down the stairs, and when I reach the bottom, I don't see him anywhere. I scan the bar area. I look at the band playing. I look to my right, turn away and then do a double take, and there he is. He's emerging from the corner, and he is the only one I see. It's like I have blinders on. He's the only one I can imagine being with right here and now. He's the only one I am thinking of. I smile really hugely and wave and rush over to meet him, and we immediately kiss passionately and rawly and so like straight out of a movie.

Once we disconnect, he says, "I was really happy to hear from you tonight." I say, "I have a story for you. I think you're gonna like it." We get some drinks, and we find a quiet place in the corner. I start in, and I just say, "Ok, so tonight I went speed dating." He says, "You didn't tell me that's where you were coming." I say, "I know. I wasn't sure how you would react." He just kind of nods, and he says, "It doesn't matter." I say, "So I met like 30 guys tonight, and with each passing one, I just kept thinking how I didn't want to be here meeting these random guys. None of them were very interesting, and I was just kind of thinking to myself 'what am I doing' and that's when I thought I don't need to finish my blog. I don't need to meet the other 12 guys." The Brit looks overwhelmingly thrilled. I can tell that this is what he's been wanting to hear all along. I have made him so happy, and I feel happy right here at the Delancey Bar where many a connection has been made in my life. The Brit makes me so happy, and seeing him happy is what really does it for me. I was really becoming stressed out at seeing how stressed out he was over this situation, and I think I have decided to do what I know will make things better between us. After awhile I say, "Let's get outta here," and we end up walking off into the Manhattan night.

That's where the story should end, right? That is the perfect fairytale ending with a kiss from the prince and all. But...this is real life, and real life always has its movie moments, at least mine does. What I realize all too often though is that life is not a movie, and even in movies you don't always see what happens to the characters the next day. Don't get me wrong. The next couple of days are great. I'm feeling really good and on board with my decision. I'm attempting to interact with the Brit a bit more like I would if I were in a relationship. I'm checking in with him more via text. It's on Tuesday that little doubts start to creep into my mind, not about the Brit, not about him at all but just within myself and what it is I really want. I'm starting to think about how more recently than not I acknowledged that I wasn't quite ready to be in a fully committed relationship with anyone. I don't think I'm done exploring myself here in NYC. Granted I think people can move away from such grandiose statements all the time if they meet someone they want to take a shot at love with, but am I there yet? I decide to kind of express a bit of my concern to the Brit that night on the phone, and he talks me through it. He washes away my doubt. I love talking to him. It has become more fun than I originally ever thought it could be.

When I am with the Brit I think of this obscure movie called "Double Happiness" that I once saw back in the 1990s starring a then unknown Sandra Oh of Grey's Anatomy fame as a Canadian born Chinese woman who falls in love with a white guy against her family's wishes. I just remember this one scene in the movie where they're at a park goofing around on the swings, and then they're walking with ice cream cones, and I remember thinking in my 18 year old mind that I wanted to find a guy to be with who was just like the guy in that movie, and now 14 years later, I think I've found him. The Brit is totally that guy, childlike and manly all at once--so ready to push me on the swings and buy me an ice cream cone. Whenever I am talking to him or am with him, there are no doubts in my mind whatsoever. I could be with this guy. I could do this. I want to do this. But in the moments away from him, I think about my blog and how I love dating. I'll be real. Dating has become like a hobby for me here in NYC. Whereas most people see it as a means to an end to meet a great guy like the Brit, I have come to see it as a way to get to know myself better and to really be independent. It's contradictory really. I can admit this, but it's not like I ever went into this thing claiming to be normal. I'm just trying to be me.

And so I guess the real question in all of this and after all this time, is who am I really? Am I an out there NYC gal who loves the nightlife and loves men? No, I wouldn't say that was me to a tee at all. Am I someone's wife or girlfriend to be? I do want those things, but I think I see myself as somewhere more in between at this moment in time but slowly moving to the latter. So these back and forth thoughts continue for a couple of days. Finally on Thursday, one week from the day the Brit told me exactly how he was feeling, I meet up with the Brit for a short bit on my break from work. I don't want to let on to him at first, but something doesn't feel right. I remember a week ago, he told me he woke up with this weird feeling in his stomach, and that's when he knew he had to come clean with everything. Well, this Thursday morning I woke up with the same thing. It's weird that thing, but it's definitely real and it's definitely in your stomach, and you definitely feel it until you come clean with how you're feeling. So as we're leaning against a brick wall somewhere in Mid-Town I express this to the Brit, and I can tell he's getting frustrated with the back and forth and especially because Sunday was so magical. Everytime I express doubts, it's like I take away from that perfect movie moment, and I can sense that he wants me to just go one way or the other. He wants me to either be with him and be completely free and happy or to do the brave thing and pull the band-aid off and say this is just not for me. I feel incapable of doing either. He just looks at me and says, "You're confused. You're confused about what you want." I can't argue with him. I am. He says, "I've gotta go," and he turns to leave, and I head back to work.

I decide I must write a letter. I must let him make the decision because I am incapable. I hate to do it over email because it's so ephemeral, and I'm such an in person kind of person, but what I've come to see is that in person exchanges can be confusing because at least with the Brit and me we never seem to be able to come to any real and valid conclusions. In the letter I basically express that up until last Thursday I thought we had been having a great time getting to know each other, and I take full accountability in acknowledging that I'm the one responsible for bringing up big picture issues, but at the same time that's just who I am and part of my nature. I sincerely tell him that I like him A LOT, and when we talk none of that has been fake, but for some reason I can't stop thinking about my blog and finishing it, and I have to think about what is right for me, and something tells me that if it were absolutely right with him, I wouldn't feel a void at not finishing my blog. Instead that void would be filled with thoughts of building something with him instead. And it's not that I don't want to. I do see a place for us somewhere in all of this. It's just that right now timing is weird, and like I learned a long time ago, timing is everything in matters of the heart.

Basically I say that I got scared that I was going to lose him so I did what I thought was absolutely right and healthy for him, but in trying not to lose him, I feel like I'm losing part of myself which is my passion for writing and exploring and having an end for my blog. Am I a first class idiot? Am I crazy? It's okay. You can tell me if I am drawing a completely dumbo conclusion right here and now, but I can't help what I feel. I feel like the Mary Stuart Masterson character in "Bed of Roses." Has everyone seen this? Okay, girls, don't lie. This is the ultimate chick flick, and any female who was coherent circa 1996 totally saw this movie and fell in love with the Christian Slater character. He was Perfect with a capital p. He was just the most awesome guy, no intrinsic flaws. His only desire was to give love and to receive it back, and he romances Mary Stuart Masterson in the most cliche ways, but it was enough to make my little 18 year old mind have serious delusional fantasies about one day meeting Christian Slater and marrying him based upon this one character and well the one in Untamed Heart as well, but that's a different story. But in this movie, he picks the wrong girl. She's emotionally closed off. She gets scared because he's so perfect. She feels like she doesn't have her full heart to give, and she flees. He takes her to meet his family at Christmas, and he proposes in front of everyone, and she freaks out, and she flees. I am Mary Stuart Masterson. Thank goodness, it wasn't that dramatically public, but the Brit is totally Christian Slater. He's totally that guy who would adore me forever, who puts me on a pedastool, who really makes me want to be in love again for only the second time in my life. He's so gentle but in the very best way. I want to be with him in so many ways. I do. But something is keeping me from going there.

I finish off the email by saying I have come up with 3 options that might work. I say I tried to do his perfect option, but it just wasn't right for me so I suggest:

1. I could scale my dating back to once per week, and that way I would still have plenty of time to spend with him, and I would only be writing about one entry per week. I suppose this is the most explicit version of having my cake and eating it, too. But it would prolong us from ever getting into a relationship if that's where this is going.
2. I could take the next month and plow through the last 12 dates and then be done, but that would probably mean we wouldn't see each other for about a month. Maybe this is the best compromise because it would allow us both some time apart to think and for me to discover what he means to me and for him to really discover what I mean to him.
3. We go our separate but friendly ways. This is by far my least favorite of the 3 options, but since I went the opposite extreme when I was thinking of giving up my blog, I thought it was only fair to him to give the exact opposite extreme.

I end the letter by saying I hope he will pick either 1 or 2, but if he picks 3 I can't really say anything to change his mind. I also say that I wish I could convince him that if he picks 2 I would miss him sorely, and I wouldn't form a connection with any of the other 12 guys, but I have a feeling that even if I told him he wouldn't believe me at this point. That night he sends me a text telling me he received my email and that he doesn't have an answer so he's going to really think about it, and I probably won't hear from him in a while, but in the mean time I should just do what I need to do. And with that we decide to cease contact for a while. I feel like a dirty tease, but I would rather not be with him and have the interactions I have had with him up until this point feel pure rather than continue on in uncertainty and constantly feel doubt when I am with him. I don't know why I feel so loyal to my blog, but I just know that it's something I want to finish. I want to come out of it and know that I really want to be with the Brit and no one else. Granted I don't know if he will feel the same after a month's time. That's the risk in all of this. He may change his mind, or he may just not be able to get past the resentment of me choosing my blog over him.

That's when it occurs to me. I remember in our sing along casually singing "Bizarre Love Triangle" by New Order. I jokingly said based upon the lyrics that that was our theme song. But now in this moment, I see that it totally is. Take a look:

Every time I think of you
I feel shot right through with a bolt of blue
It's no problem of mine
But it's a problem I find
Living a life that I can't leave behind
But there's no sense in telling me
The wisdom of the fool won't set you free
But that's the way that it goes
And it's what nobody knows
well every day my confusion grows

That's when it occcurs to me. This is a bizarre love triangle between me, the Brit, and my blog. It always has been with any guy. Any guy that has attempted to get close to me in this process has been in direct competition with my blog. The Cuban was. The random 3 or 4 guys who I thought might be worth dating after him were. And now the Brit is. This blog has taken on a life of its own. I guess only time will tell if it will have a sorta fairytale kind of ending. I miss the Brit, but I want to be with him when the blog isn't in the picture when I'm really with him off the record and without the cute story. Well, I know it would still be a very cute story, but a cute story between just me and him.