Please Just Like Me

Alright, I'm just going to sort this all out through writing. It's late, so please forgive my potentially incoherent babbling.

I think there are a couple of guys who are interested in me. And, as usual, I have no idea how to handle it.

The first is an Iron-Maiden-worshipping karaoke maven that I've known for over a year now. Frankly, he's been interested since the day we met (or since the day he first saw me karaoke, which was a few weeks before that). But I'm somewhat, shall we say, uncatchable. I was quasi-dating a different karaoke guy. Then I started dating The Filmmaker... And since becoming single, I've gone to karaoke exactly once.

He's a nice guy. He thinks I'm worthy of high praise, which is of course a huge score in anyone's favor. He's a bit of a know-it-all (not usually in an attractive way). He's a bit socially awkward (not in a cute way). I wouldn't call him combative, but he does have a certain air of "I win all my arguments" about him.

I adore him as a friend. But beyond that, I can't say that I'm interested.

He keeps buying tickets to things and asking me to go along. Things that he has chosen to bring up, clearly, because he thinks I'll like them. A Yo-Yo Ma concert (I was, after all, a cellist for 8 years). A Bernadette Peters concert. The touring company of Avenue Q. I couldn't go to Yo-Yo Ma because I was in tech for a show. The other two concert dates are still upcoming, and I haven't given a response (although, honestly, it would be impossible for me to do so in advance, due to the hyper-changeable nature of my grad school schedule).



The second guy I met though a classmate of mine. He got to know a lot of people in my program over the summer while I was up East with my family. He's nice. I see him in social situations and make small talk. He showed up at my surprise birthday party...

(Side note: My roommates threw me a surprise birthday party during my dinner break from tech. It was unreal, and super cool. Sometimes I love people.)

Anyway. The other night, I was in a bar (where aforementioned classmate who links me to this guy is a bartender once a week) and started a conversation with him. A real one, and not just our usual superficial pleasantries. We bonded over our common Catholicism and social phobias/anxieties (he apparently used to be agoraphobic). We decided to go to Mass together next Sunday (which will be nice... I've been going to church by myself pretty regularly these days, and I do hate going alone, as a result of the social anxiety).

We talked about Guitar Hero and played darts (um, I'm REALLY terrible at darts. Like, if I get the dart to stick into something other than the floor, it's cause for celebration). I invited him to join a group I'd been organizing to go watch the meteor storm on the beach.

We were both leaving the bar at the same time, and his car needed time to warm up (to defog his windows), so he chilled in my car for a bit. I played him some of the random-as-all-get-out variety of music currently housed on my fraction-of-an-iPod. "Subtle Sexuality" by the girls from The Office. "Do You Wanna Date My Avatar?" by the cast of The Guild. Several mash-ups from Glee. And some of the songs on Natalie Imbruglia's latest album (Come to Life, which might be my favorite yet... which is a HUGE DEAL considering that she was already my favorite artist. LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE IT!!!!!!) It wasn't until we hugged as he got out of my car that I realized that maybe he was interested (in retrospect, I'm incredibly dense; the signs were all there). And then I was grateful for the cherry-flavored Chupa-Chup lollipop, whose stick was protruding from my mouth at that point in a way that surely threatened off all possible romantic gestures and impromptu kiss attempts.

He text messaged me about 20 minutes later to say what a great time he'd had, and I knew I was in trouble.

Then I found out: this guy? He's mid-fight with our mutual friend. And knowing her, she's probably upset that I was even TALKING to him while he was in her bar. Let's just say she wasn't thrilled when I told her he was coming meteor-spotting with us.

He has texted me a few times in the last two days, asking if I want to go over and hang out, watch a movie, play Rock Band, etc. So far, I've turned him down. (I've had stuff to do, anyway.)

I'm not that into him. He's cool, and I'd like to have him as a friend. But again, I just don't want it to go beyond that. And I really hope that he doesn't think me going to Mass with him on Sunday is a date. Because it is SO not.




The thing is, I'm really quite lonely. I am. I miss cuddling. I miss talking to someone who cares about my problems. I miss talking to someone on a regular basis. Anyone, really. I'm around people plenty, but I still often feel like I'm in a cone of isolation.

The most recent person I was talking to on a regular basis was a friend who was calling me drunk every night talking about his depression. One night, he started the conversation by telling me that he had just called a "suicide hotline", and that "they weren't helpful" because they're not authorized to give advice (I'm sure it's a legal issue). All they could do was listen. And he wanted someone to respond. So even though I had a day full of classes and an evening performance ahead of me, I stayed on the phone with him until 3:30am trying to keep him talking about the positive things in his life.


Of course, The Filmmaker isn't completely out of my life. He recently sent me a birthday gift. One that, if we were still dating, would be really quite lovely and wonderful. But because we're not? It's riding the line between awfully sweet and creepy. Riffing off a conversation about how a guy in a bar once misheard my name as "Tarantula", and Filmmaker thought that would be my mutant name as a superhero... He got a bunch of his artist friends to contribute to graphic-novel-style art on the subject of me being said superhero. It's three framed pieces of collaborative art, which he said he thought would be nice in my room, which currently is somewhat lacking in wall-covering decoration.

How do you respond to a thoughtful, complex gift like that from an ex? Especially an ex like this one?



Maybe it's because it's 1:00am, but it seems like I keep getting thrown all these wily pitches that I don't know how to hit.



The crux of the problem is probably that I just want people to like me. And I don't want to disappoint anyone. And I don't want to be alone.

But it creates so many problems.

I can't be everyone's go-to gal in crisis. I can't be everyone's friend. I can't be everyone's crush. I can't.




May you figure out what the real problem is.

~A~

A Miracle to Give You Hope

The morning after I upset The Filmmaker so much, his mother almost died.

I found this out initially through a classmate of mine (who had read it on Facebook... which, of course, I couldn't have done, what with The Filmmaker unfriending me and all). And then I got a text from the Filmmaker saying she was in the hospital and to pray for her. And so I prayed.

I got another e-mail from The Filmmaker today. And though part of me thinks I really need to stop posting his e-mails on here (for privacy), I think it's important to share this one.


Dear Angela,

I realized something recently. If the Halloween costume incident hadn't upset me so much then I wouldn't have gone to sleep at my Mom's house. If I hadn't gone to my Mom's house, then I wouldn't have been there to help her when her heart stopped the next morning.

I think that the first class mail misunderstanding was a miracle. Weird. Everything DOES happen for a reason.

It looks like it was for the best, but I'm sorry I got so upset. I know I got more upset than was warranted by the situation. It's just hard.

Thanks for possibly inadvertently saving my mother's life.

- [The Filmmaker]

P.S. According to our research, my Mom had a 2-25% chance of surviving her attack. It was a miracle all right.



A miracle indeed. Truly.

Yes, everything certainly does happen for a reason.

God is everywhere. Even in the silly arguments that you wish didn't exist.


May you believe in miracles.

~A~

Unfriended

I got an e-mail yesterday morning from The Filmmaker:

"Thanks a lot for completely fucking humiliating me in front of everyone I know.

I can't believe you told [Friend] to be the same thing for Halloween."


And then I discovered that The Filmmaker had unfriended me on Facebook. No, I'm not kidding.



So here's a little backstory...

I think it was when I was in high school (let's say it was around 2001) when I came up with (what I thought was) a great Halloween costume... for a guy. All the guy had to do was buy a bunch of postage stamps (like $5 or $10 worth), stick them on himself, and go as a "First Class Piece of Mail/Male". Inexpensive, clever, with a nice double entendre thrown in.

Well, I liked it.

And, since 2001, every time a male friend (including my brothers) has been looking for a Halloween costume, I have given the (often unsolicited) advice that he should go as a First Class Piece of Male/Mail.

And no one ever does.

So a couple of weeks ago, The Filmmaker, whom I'm trying to be cordial with (hoping that perhaps we could one day be friends, as I now am with my other ex, Brian), e-mailed me saying he didn't have a Halloween costume. And I suggested my brilliant stand-by suggestion.

A few days ago, The Filmmaker's friend from film school called me up to ask me to be in a film he's making in April, and I said yes (woo-hoo!). He mentioned that he didn't have a Halloween costume, so once again, I suggested my old standby costume... You know. The one that I always suggest but no one actually uses.

Cut to the day after Halloween, when I get this e-mail from The Filmmaker.

I was upset. Of course, I never meant any harm, but all these scenarios started running through my head. What if The Filmmaker had flown from California to Florida for Halloween, hoping to surprise his old friends? And shown up at the party where his best friend from school was wearing the same outfit? What if all his old friends mocked them both for not being creative enough to be good filmmakers? It could've been horrible! And so upsetting! And humiliating! And (indirectly) my fault!

I texted The Filmmaker something along the lines of "1. I'm sorry. 2. What happened?"

I texted his friend something along the lines of "I just got an angry e-mail from [The Filmmaker]. I'm sorry if I upset you. I don't know what happened. Help?"

I called my parents, crying. I went to Mass and prayed about it. I called Brian (the magical and mythical ex-who-broke-my-heart-but-whom-I-am-still-good-friends-with-anyway-without-it-being-weird-even-now-that-he's-dating-someone-else), who told me that it wasn't my fault and that The Filmmaker was overreacting, and that if he knew me at all he would know that it's never my intention to hurt anyone, ever.

And then I went home and checked my e-mail.

Filmmaker responded.

"What happened?

Against my better judgement, I dressed up as a "first class piece of mail." Partially because it was clever, original, simple, easy to put together, and something I could wear to work without impeding my ability to work. Partially because I desperately love you and was flattered that you would suggest, after all we've been through, that I was a first class guy.

But you told [Friend] the same thing apparently. So not only did everyone who knows what [Friend] went for as Halloween probably see me in the pictures I posted of my costume, and think "How the hell pathetic are both [Friend] and [Filmmaker] for ripping off the same 'quirky original' costume idea," but it also turns out that apparently you don't really think I'm a first class guy, you were just showing everyone how clever and witty you are.

It wouldn't hurt so much if I hadn't actually WORN the damn costume you suggested. It wouldn't hurt so much if I hadn't posted the pictures on Facebook for everyone to see. I wouldn't have hurt so much if it hadn't been [FRIEND], of all people, who regardless of how you feel about him, I get jealous of because I know he has a crush on you. (Of course he does. He took your costume idea too.) And it wouldn't have hurt so much if [Friend] hadn't posted online that "Hey, I had the same costume. Damn it!" It wouldn't have hurt so much if I didn't still love you desperately, and wasn't constantly hoping that we could somehow work things out, and if that didn't lead me to hope that when you said I was a first class male, that meant that, in some small way, you loved me still too.

But I guess it means nothing. You were just being clever at both my and [Friend]'s expense.

I know it may not seem like a big deal to you, but not only did this humiliate me, but it broke my heart."


I didn't know what to do. How to react.

On the one hand, I was relieved. He didn't go to Florida. He was wearing the same costume as someone else in a different time-zone. Not that bad.

But still, he was hurt. A lot, apparently. And I don't want to hurt anyone, let alone someone I care about deeply.

But then, how could he misconstrue a costume suggestion to mean that I loved him?


I don't know. I wrote back that I was sorry and that I hadn't meant to hurt him.

And then I got an e-mail from him that was angry that I had chosen to be terse.

So I wrote one back saying that I didn't want to write anything else, because if I did, he would either use it as a reason to yell at me or a reason to beat himself up, and I wanted to avoid both situations. I also said, in no uncertain terms, that I do not want to get back together with him.

He wrote me again, saying that he wants to Skype with me to sort out this argument, and then he linked to a study claiming that body language is 55% of communication.

I just feel... squished. Flattened. Like there's no where for me to go. I just want to make all of this go away.

I didn't mean to hurt him, but he keeps hurting me. I try to be nice, and everything goes wrong. And the result is that I just end up beating myself up and feeling miserable, or wanting to hit him or something.

Maybe I'm the bad guy in this situation. Maybe I am. I admit that. And as much as I want you all, lovely readers, to tell me that I'm not, I can't even believe it if you say it. Because I know that you're viewing a very skewed, one-sided, biased version of this story. And who knows what it looks like from his side?



May your good intentions not lead to Hell.

~A~