That Look

In hindsight, I should have known.

The signs were there, I just didn't see them. I couldn't see them.

It should have been so obvious, like a trail of bread crumbs in the forest.

But it wasn't, not for me at least.

There I was, approaching the airport.

I was so excited.

In just a few short hours, I would see her again.

To hold her hand. To hear her laugh. To feel her warm hands upon my face.

Though I'd only been gone for three weeks, I missed her something crazy.

It bordered on unhealthy.

Like an addict, I needed her.

I'd had a good trip and enjoyed my time away, Papers signed, meetings attended, dinners eaten, and yet, I just couldn't wait to return.

To her.

When busy, it had been easy. Mind occupied, tasks to do, places to go.

But, in the slower moments, the down time on the bus, waiting in lines, simmering in a bath, trying to fall asleep, my thoughts invariably drifted back to her.

Always her.

Like she was living inside the recesses of my brain.

Was she?

As I waited for my row to be called, I sat there among the sea of strangers and I longed to see her again. The others probably had love to go back to, but it could never be like ours. Ours was a young love, full of flights of fancy and lazy Sundays and late night Scrabble games.

I ached to be with her.

While being away was so so hard, it was an amazing feeling to be so excited.

"You're lucky," a friend told me while away "life is rarely full of excitement like this."

True, I was lucky.

How rarely had I ever felt this level and intensity of excitement and I savoured the minutes as they counted down until our reunion.

Take off.

Ears popping.

Her.

Guy in the seat in front reclines too far.

Her.

Dry throat and head aches.

Her.

Being together again. It would be so wonderful.

My skin tingled each time I closed my eyes, and I was instantly transported to her side.

Goosebumps.

Our future together.

Marriage, the honeymoon of our dreams and then kids. The world would be ours.

I could picture it now as I sat on that plane bringing me home, back to her, back to us, back to all of the things I loved and adored about her.

Like a scene in a movie it would be. Couples and families hugging and screaming with joy all around us as I strode confidently, like a general returning victorious from battle, through the silent masses, in slow motion towards her, this dazzling beauty. 

She was mine.

Smile.

And then, after a moment's pause, we'd kiss this long, passionate kiss oblivious to all and everything around us. It would all melt away, leaving only us, the only two beings, forever connected.

And then, the plane landed.

Home.

Could our love bend time and space?

I gathered my stuff, walked off the plane and rewinded and replayed my lines in the dialogue between us that I'd been rehearsing for days.

The airport was bustling and it was if the others around me were also in on it, extras in my low-budget film.

I wanted to share my excitement with them, with anyone, like a puppy who smells a treat.

The passport agent asked how I was and I answered "great" a little too enthusiastically and was met with a smile that seemed slightly concerned.

My heart was pounding as I rode the final escalator towards the arrivals area. It was if I was about to perform in front of a huge audience, take a final free throw, line up a million dollar putt.

I was ready. To see her.

I rounded the final bend. My heart was practicing aerobics, my skin was barely holding on as the tidewaters rose within, my brain was considering taking stress leave.

There she was.

How I had dreamed of this moment, and I couldn't believe it was now.

She was looking down at the ground waiting when I first spotted her; her hair perfect as always, wearing her favourite shoes.

Mentally capturing the moment as a photograph, I paused, and then continued towards her.

Then her head arose, as if she sensed my presence from afar.

Our eyes met.

And I saw that look.

I knew it was all over.

The Argument

"I'm really angry with you, you know! I can't believe you right now! After all we have been through? This? It is the last nail in the casket! And yes, I know the expression usually involves coffins, and I don't care and you know how I feel about messing with expressions that have proudly stood the test of time! I'm that pissed off!"

"Oh? You think you are pissed off? Well, I have news for you and not the usual news I deliver full of topical events from around the world. My skin is figuratively crawling at the sheer sight of you! I'm pretty sure my other organs are not too pleased either, but they are just harder to get an exact read on, unlike my overly sensitive skin. I can't believe you are blaming me for what has gone on here between us tonight. That is low, even for you, and that is saying a lot considering how impressively low you've gone in the past."

"Someone is going to get hurt, if you keep up that sort of talk up! Do you want to guess who? Aarghh! You are making me crazy! I want to punch the wall or the ceiling or, if I happen to be kneeling, the floor. Do you think I'm enjoying this? No! I'd rather be all cuddly with you, making all others in the room highly uncomfortable and wondering about the details of our friendship. But those days seem to be in the rear view mirror which I just happened to bring along this evening either for the small amount of comfort it provides but most likely for its reflective capabilities."

"My brain is making plans to evacuate the building that is my head, something it has threatened before but always kept the rent cheques coming! Do you know what I'm talking about, because I'm not totally sure I do, due to the fact that I am almost literally seeing red right now, though it is hard to tell due to my red-green colour-blindness. Are you actually laughing? Do you think my inability to enjoy deep, passionate reds and organic, forest greens is funny? I dare you to bring that laugh from where you are sitting all the way over there using your face as how else would you transport a laugh and you can bring the rest of your body too if you must! When you come over here, I'll..."

"You'll what? Come on tough guy! Don't hold back on the account that I am a woman, an attractive woman who you once claimed to love. Don't let my close resemblance to Cinderella, your hero which raises at least some questions seeing as you are a man, stop you from coming at me. I'm ready for you! Sure I may occasionally present like a human embodiment of a small piece of partially burnt wood, and I am, but unlike those other cinders, I am for real and I'll end you."

"Do you realize how desperate you sound? Desperate and sad and obviously badly in need of some refresher courses in proper grammar and punctuation. Look, I don't want to fight you. I don't. Not really. Well, a bit. I think my fists do, but my arms are not interested. I also care about you despite your choices and your infuriating grammatical mistakes that are highly correctable if you'd only take my advice and enrol at the local community college. I'm willing to let the past be the past, as long as you will do the same and stop pretending to press your coveted invisible rewind button that we both know isn't there."

"I can't believe you, of all people, are calling me desperate. Ha! That's what I say to that. If anyone here is desperate it's you, although, to be honest, it's usually one of your best features and makes me want to pet and groom you like a cute puppy. You are always calling me something, usually things that are sweet, things I love - like baby dolphin, bananamobile, high fructose corn syrup - to name a few. But not now, not tonight. Why? What is really going on?"

"I could tell you. I could tell you a long, dramatic and elaborate heart-wrenching story. I could tell you lots of things, just like I used to when we first met. I remember we'd sit there, facing each other, taking turns talking, while the other person used their ears to hear what the other was saying. Oh, we were so young and naive back then. I thought things would always be perfect. I wasn't ready for you to change. You've changed, you do know that don't you?"

"I do. I used to be as graceful as an ox, albeit the most graceful ox humans have ever seen. Now I'd probably compare myself to some other beast of burden that is also partially graceful, just incrementally less so. I know it seems similar to you, but inside I feel the difference. I also have grown more serious over time. I used to spend hours and hours laughing and giggling at the slightest thing. It was so annoying! I had next to no control over it. Sure it seemed like I was having the time of my life, but I wasn't, not in the least. How I wanted to be taken seriously and be treated like the 25 year old that I was, but everyone saw me, and treated me, like a clown. And the tips were so small! So, yes I have changed. Your clown has left the building."

"If I had a handsaw for everytime I've heard you tell that story, I'd own exactly three handsaws which is actually one fewer than I actually own right now, so it would be a step backward. Others have wondered, quite rightfully, why does one person, in the big city, who doesn't work on construction projects and is not at all handy around the house, need to own any handsaws, let alone four. "Good question," I answer while admiring my reflection in the blade of my favourite saw. I've changed too. We've drifted like two pieces of driftwood on a river that is cascading down a waterfall. I'm not sure at all how that image relates in anyway to our issue here, but I thought I'd toss it out there. It makes me so angry, because I love you. I love you like a person loves their handsaw collection, although there are probably minor differences, with the safety precautions being one."

"I love you too. I love both the idea of you and the physical manifestation of that idea. I love both you and the collection of puppets I made in your likeness that I use to act out short scenes with during holiday times. I love that our love was both normal and never normal. Sure I could have predicted that as I found you in the Looking for Abnormal Relationship column in the local newspaper that I was reading out of spite one Friday night after working out of spite all day - it was just so easy to keep the spite going and I'm glad that I did, as it led me to you."

"When we first met, I felt like a subatomic particle being annihilated into radiant energy. I remember our first date. The touch of your lips made me burn, though, the lit candle I leaned against as we were allowed our passion to get the better of us burned even more. I wanted to devour you, though, the pizza we ordered seemed even more appropriate. And yet, I am still angry. Things seem so different now. What you did was so insensitive, like you don't love me or care about me or are treating my feelings like lab rats, which I am morally opposed to on a number of levels. But, I know I am to blame for where we are as well and I am angry with myself too."

"Me too. I know I came here tonight ready to yell at you until my voice went hoarse and my brow was full of sweat and needed mopping, but I also need to yell at myself, after my voice has time to rest, of course, as I don't want to do any permanent damage. Permanent Damage, coincidentally, is actually my ironic working title for the novel I am writing that is loosely based on my amazing childhood. But, I just can't yell at you or accidentally drip sweat on you. Can we fix this? Can we go back to how things were?"

"I think so. I also am speaking those thoughts out loud to you as well otherwise you'd be fairly uncertain regarding my answer to your question. You know, maybe this is the blip on the computer screen that is our relationship with our relationship being a computer screen in that analogy just like you used to always joke that it was. Sure, this could be the hiccup that just requires copious amounts of water for us to breathe normally again. I certainly hope so, as I love you, and just so you don't take that the wrong way, my love is the love that many other people use the word "like" to mean and nothing more unless you are into that and then I'm open to any new definitions you want to suggest."

"I love you too. I really do. Just that it feels weird to go from a few minutes ago where we wanted to tear each other's heads off or, more precisely, race to see who could tear the other's heads off first as once one person had lost their head, their ability to then, headless, remove the other's would be rendered impossible. But I am one to quickly forgive, though not forget. Let me make that clear, that I forget nothing and will keep the memory of the beginning of this encounter in the recesses of my brain for as long as I shall live and possibly beyond that if the experimental research my brother is working on comes through in time. But, I do love you; all of you, though some parts more than others, which only makes sense as I think it would highly suspicious if I claimed to love every single little part of you exactly the same."

"So where do we go from here? Do we just move on? Do we attempt to hug it out? Do we just pretend it never happened? Do we spend the better part of the evening breaking down our disagreement to its component parts and then analyze each with as much detail as we have the collective brain capacity to do? I, for one, vote for ordering pizza with extra cheese as well as extra dough and extra sauce, mostly so the other components don't feel left behind or marginalized. Now some would argue that I am suggesting just ordering a larger pizza, and while I don't disagree or refute that point, I just don't choose to agree."

"You are such an extremist when it comes to pizza and, while it freaks me out something fierce, I also respect you and hold you in higher regard because of it as well. I say we move on, only first to the next room, and then regarding the issue as this room feels so...dirty to me now. Then we can spend up to, but not exceeding, 5 minutes hugging. Any less and it will come off as yet another half-assed attempt on our part to follow through on a solution to a problem and any more, someone will invariably suggest that we get a room, which will compel us to rent a space together and we already rent this space and we just can't afford to rent two apartments what with our current financial constraints. And then if we still feel like pretending it never happened, then why not? And sure let's order that pizza! Let's order it together, like old times."

"Oh, the old times! How I miss them so! I remember that you used to call me "Junior", which made very little sense, as I both older and larger than you and had absolutely no one else in my life who I consider my senior, no matter how inaccurate that perception was in reality. I'm not sure if you are suggesting this, but I am in total favourite of living a considerable amount of time in the past, including, but not limited to, changing our hairstyles and caloric intake. I can't believe I was so angry earlier! You are so important to me and I need you like someone who loves chicken nuggets with honey mustard sauce needs napkins especially if they are anything like me when I eat those with my outright disregard for the precise location of my mouth on my face."

"And you are so important to me! I would follow you wherever you go as long as you don't do anything crazy like walk 40km in the rain. Yes, I'd follow you, walking about a half block behind you, wearing a black trench coat and sunglasses and possibly a wig. Sure some would call me a creeper and others would consider reporting me to the authorities, which has only happened a couple of times before, thinking of me as a "threat", while I always claim to be a triple threat, especially when playing basketball. That reminds me, I never said sorry for trying to dribble you that one time when you were curled up like a ball in that orange blanket you love."

"I forgive you. I forgive you completely, or more accurately, I forgive you as much as one entity can forgive another which is fairly unquantifiable, but it probably falls somewhere between completely and not at all. As you know, I'm quite oblivious towards all quantities in life. Anyways, all of this arguing has made me hungry. Or, I entered not hungry, we argued and now I'm hungry. Hard to argue cause and effect here, I know. Anyways, let's go get something to eat."

First Date

Wow am I excited or what?

That was an incredible and amazing evening!

It was beyond awesome from the opening "hello" all the way to the closing, and quite lengthy and dramatically presented good bye that I couldn't quite make out due to our proximity that guy at the bus stop screaming about the end of the world.

I don't think I've ever had more fun in a 5 hour time period aside from that one time when I was 15 and I locked myself in my room, covered myself in margarine, put in some mood music, and created conceptual art. My parents were so concerned, until they saw the art, and then they had to return to the den to read their thesaurus as "concerned" was no longer apt. I also never thought our first date would last 5 hours, though that's mostly because I never think anything will ever last 5 hours. It's how I was raised.

I just couldn't be happier than I am right now at this very moment. Not even if I tried, which I haven't. You know, it's just not as easy as it sounds to try to be happier than one is when one is already happy, and I should know, due to those two years spent with my annoyingly gleeful roommate that I often playfully refer to as "The Bludgeoning". I learned, years later, that he was actually an extremely unhappy person back in those days, but just spend an inordinate amount of time standing on his head.

Finally a date! 

I just can't believe it!

I have wanted to go out on a date for so long and I am still in a state of disbelief that it just happened! Can you believe it? Me, in a state of disbelief? I know, I know, that's incredibly easy to believe. I'm in such a state on a bi-weekly basis. But, me on a date? With a fellow human who, in this case, was an attractive female as well? And to believe that she didn't need to be coerced or fooled with shiny objects or bribed with rare concert tickets? Wow! And to think my parents told me over and over and over again that this would never happen. They even took out a full page ad in the local newspaper, which seemed excessive and a touch mean, to let me know how unlikely my dating would be. Don't get me wrong, my parents were as loving as caring as two individuals who kind of, sort of chose to get married and raise a family could be. But, they also believed in being unapologetically up front and frank all the time especially when it came to their one and only son's social life, or lack thereof.

I am just on cloud nine or at least in the nearby vicinity, and I don't care who sees me almost literally dancing down the sidewalk right now. And that is saying a lot as I'm usually quite shy or bashful in public places and some would even go as far as saying I'm 'afraid' or 'paranoid to the point where I feel like I need to duck behind random objects as if I'm being followed'. What can I say? I have a vivid imagination and was taught by my elementary school to believe that I would one day be worthy of being tracked or stalked by others.

But tonight, tonight was so amazing! I don't think it could have gone any better aside from a few things that I am attempting not to dwell on as whenever I dwell on small things from the past in counselling sessions, my therapist shakes his head repeatedly and begins frantically taking notes and it ends up costing me a minimum of $500. The only obvious way it could have gone better would be if I hadn't accidentally scalded her with hot water when I insisted on pouring her tea even though she really was set on pouring her own. I did apologize, though, to be honest, she should have allowed me to pour it for her as many friends of mine refer to me as the Mozart of accurately pouring hot liquids from one vessel to another. I have no idea what that really means.

It was clear that she was having a great time even after I misunderstood her somewhat feeble attempt at sarcasm and literally wrestled her to the ground. And she didn't seem to mind too much when I both slapped and tripped her repeatedly on the dance floor at the club after dinner when I got bit to carried away when they played my favourite song. As I tried to explain, I can't be held accountable for my limbs when my favourite song comes on and I have the notarized legal paperwork to prove it. 

I could just see the glee in her eyes even when I took out my calculator to make sure that the bill was not only split evenly but that we also took into account precisely how much each of us consumed proportionally relative to our weight as well as indirectly proportional to the density of our entrees. My calculator work was impressive to say the least, which is why I usually don't take it out of its protective cloth until the third date.

And to think I was so nervous of making a good first impression! I was. Really nervous - I was gerbil-like in my obsessive desire to gnaw anything that came anywhere near my mouth - plastic containers, pumice stones, loose items of clothing - anything! I see now that first impressions, albeit quite huge, only last so long and that all of the impressions that come after the big opening are as, if not more, important. Thankfully, I practiced and made sure ahead of time that after the initial glow of the opening wore off that I would have a series of impressions that would keep her in an as-close-to-constant state of awe as possible without having to bring my expensive sensory equipment from home.

I used my nervousness to my advantage just how my passionate and oppositional drama teacher from high school always told me to. I came out "guns a blazing" almost literally, until I remembered the strict firearms ordnance that had just been passed. I was "hopped up on goofballs" which, in hindsight, was fairly poor judgment, and not a good message for the kids of today, as about an hour into the date I literally crashed and snored loudly for the next 45 minutes which thankfully went undetected as we were in a dark theatre watching a vivid dance/chainsaw performance that is so hot right now.

The rest of the date was wonderful and spectacular and she is such a great person! I just can't over what an amazing and caring woman she is. For example, when I pretended to go into anaphylactic shock, her response was as textbook as you can get and I should know seeing as I had brought the textbook with me just in case she appeared to be up for that sort of test. 

The weeks of lead up to our first date were full of high anxiety, dangerously low metabolism and a rash that nearly covered my body from head to toe. I lifted weights, usually by choice; I brushed my hair daily, longing to brush someone else's hair just for variety's sake; I treated my body like a shrine, although I did find that exercise to be quite futile as my previous experience with shrines was mostly as a place to hide the raw broccoli my parents were trying to force on me as a child.

Then we finally met and it was just so amazing and I can't wait to see her again!

It may have been just me, because it has been in the past with other girls, but I really felt something click like there was a real connection between us. I am so excited! 

An actual date! 

Yes!

Launching a Podcast: Part 1

So, I've decided to launch a podcast. I'm pretending the silence I hear at this moment is actually a huge crowd of non-relatives giving me a standing ovation. "Finally" and "Yes!!" and "Podcast?" are among the things this totally imaginary crowd are saying to me as they shake my hand and other random parts of my body.

It has all happened so fast.

And yes, I totally realize that I am not listening to the common adage about not rushing into the recording of your first podcast.

But it is all so very exciting - I feel like a young schoolgirl again...I mean, for the first time.

You may be wondering how it all started or you may be wondering a variety of other things, how would I know what you are filling your head with if you insist on constantly ignoring my requests?

Well, this fairy tale began, as many of my real and fictitious ones do, on Christmas Day. It's a scheduling nightmare!

My parents, sister and her boyfriend were over helping us create the illusion of a large family gathering. Our girls were literally shredding wrapping paper as well as opening actual presents, while he adults were enjoying watching our two girls opening their gifts while doing their best to not be overly jealous, or at least less jealous than an average day.

Amidst the revelry and squeals of joy, I was rushing trying to get every last part of the elaborate Christmas dinner finished in a timely fashion. While no one was crying for food yet, I was operating on borrowed time as any moment the animals/inmates/sleeping giants would start losing it if their feed wasn't presented to them.

As I was attempting to avoid burning myself and/or the precious food while also giving the impression that I was above carrying about burning anything, my sister turned to speak to me, as she has turned so many times before (143 –I’ve kept track) and exclaimed “You have to start a podcast!”

I didn’t respond right away as I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. I've learned the hard way that if I respond as soon as someone speaks to me, then they will always expect that rapidity of response. It's just not realistic - let's say I'm tired or recovering from dental surgery or involuntarily under the influence of hallucinogens! I also needed time to decode and re-code what she had said only to realize that codes were wholly unnecessary at the moment.

I looked at her, looked away and then looked back just wishing an appropriate song was playing that I could turn in time to. It was an interesting idea and I said as much, but not interesting enough for me to stop cooking dinner for the family and race out into the night, only returning when I had either followed her command or allowed an appropriate amount of time to elapse.

The evening ended and I presented her with a parting gift as is tradition in my family. As "goodbyes" were dramatically spoken, "safe travels" sing-songingly insisted upon and "thank yous" comically mimed, my mind worked overtime. "Me, Tommy Paley, or just Tommy if we are on a first name basis, make a podcast?" I was inclined to ignore the suggestion on principle alone, or at least allow principle to be part of the process.

Many days passed.

It was New Year’s Eve and my sister and her boyfriend had decided to throw a party and we were all invited. While I was seated on the couch in their living room and attempting to remain vertical, my sister mentioned the podcasting thing again and her boyfriend proclaimed to the room (quite regally I must add - remind me to hire that guy for those moments when I need to proclaim something) that “I HAD to do it!” They were nodding their heads in unison and smiling like people who had just been bitten by a non-poisonous snake smile if they had just been told a funny joke.

The idea was still intriguing to me, as it had been the first time it was suggested, only more forcibly this time, I must add. I worried that they would only get incrementally more forceful each time, so I decided to cut my losses and just give in to their demands as I do with door to door salespeople and doctors.

We got home after the party and I instantly Googled "starting a podcast" followed by "cute pictures of kittens" before remembering that I can't multi-task. I was tired and badly in need of sleep and overwhelmed by the foreign languages I had to spend hours learning in order to start a podcast before I decided to cop out and just have the page translated. To call myself a beginner would have been apt. To call myself uninitiated would be correct. To call myself naive would just be unfair and unnecessarily adding insult to injury.

As I lay my pretty head on my slightly prettier pillow that evening I was filled with equal parts resolve, excitement and vegan tofu cheesecake. I had what it took, I was going to do this, it was going to be glorious and the world would finally have to stand up and pay attention to me. Kidding! (Between you and me, that world has zero sense of humour or an interest in any podcast not discussing bluegrass music).

A few days later fate played her hand (I had to wait so long that it felt like I was playing by myself). My long time tall friend and I were having a mutually agreed upon dinner together. As we were taking turned biting our food (two people biting at the same time is WAY too loud if you know what I'm saying), I mentioned my desire to podcast and I will always remember that moment as if lightening struck us as we sat there, eyes locked.

Initially he aggressively insisted on producing me which sounded vaguely like a recurring nightmare I'd been having since I was 12, but after some discussion we realizing that you just can't teach or learn to develop the rapport that we have. Our conversations could be described as "funny" or "fun" or simply "un" if you choose not to use whole words to describe things due to being that busy and important. Excitedly, ideas and suggestions starting flying across the table and room on similar trajectories to the pieces of rice that were also flying.

While we collectively knew very little about how to make podcasts, we more than made up for that with sheer gumption (it had been accumulating for years) and boyish charm. We had a tough road ahead of us, but had a real appreciation for tough roads especially those that lay ahead and didn't require any excessive neck turning. We mentally shook hands and signed lengthy contracts full of non-disclosure and morality clauses before I got in my car and literally drove home. 

I checked my pulse. I checked my ego. I checked my coat even though my wife is just not interested in being a coat check girl, but did she really want me to wear my coat inside all the time? That's what I thought. This podcast thing was going to happen. It was about to get real. Really real. 

stay tuned for Launching a Podcast: Part 2