Falling into Place

(Me and Phil last week. He doesn't like this picture, but I think he looks cute... So maybe don't tell him that I put it on the blog, okay?)

Almost done. Can't believe it. Why do the good parts of life go by so much faster than the rotten parts?

There are so many things left to do in this city that I promised myself I'd get around to, but never did. Clearly, I'll have to come back.

I feel more myself here than I remember feeling.

The last 6 weeks have been incredible. Part of me wants to refer to this abroad experience as the best time of my life... but I won't.

The explanation for why I won't can be found in Shakespeare's Sonnet 115. For those of you who don't feel like trying to analyze a sonnet to understand my meaning, here it is: to say that this has been the best time of my life seems to somehow ignore (or even prevent) the possibility of greater times to come. And I would hate to limit my life with a premature superlative exclamation bounding forth from a sense of enveloping joy.

But it has been great.

Don't get me wrong, some things have been rough. One thing was quite rough, in fact...

A classmate that I have had problems with in the past -- the one who has been the monster in my nightmares -- caused more problems here. And after dealing with it to the best of our ability for weeks, it passed the tipping point. As a result, he was sent home from London. And we have heard that he has been released from our graduate program.

Although I expected to feel a sense of relief after the ordeal, that was only one ingredient in the stew of emotions that boiled in my stomach.

Mostly, I felt two kinds of guilt. The first was a guilt that I had contributed to something in this person's life being destroyed. The second guilt was for not taking action sooner and perhaps saving my classmates some of the anguish that we have suffered over the last two years.

Lastly, I felt fear. The fear has left me at the moment, as the person I'm afraid of is on a different continent, but I won't be surprised if it returns to me once my feet hit Floridian sands again. If he attempts to seek vengeance, I'm positive that I will be on the list of potential targets, and my name may be higher than most...

But he's gone now. It took a few days, but the relief I had expected did indeed wash over me. And our class seems... Complete. Fixed. Right. As though this is what we were meant to be all along. We are the ensemble now that we couldn't have been before. I didn't realize that, although I was a great target of his abuse, I was not the only one suffering from it. I didn't realize that his destructive presence was the reason that our class had developed antibodies. As soon as we had class without him, we found our peace.

We even started doing something that we have never done before: socializing in a group, instead of in sects of twos and threes. Last night, nine of the ten of us sat in my flat, having a marvelous time.

We're healed. Or at the very least, we're in remission. And it feels like a miracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In an unrelated story...

A couple of days ago, I was on my way to meet Phil. Because of some complications with Tube construction, I was going at a different time (and via different route) than originally intended.

And as I walked underground in a passage to transfer from the Central line to the Northern Line, I saw a familiar face.

Alessandro.

The Italian resident of London that I had gone on a few dates with... The one who happened to be out of town when I met Phil.

He stopped and took off his headphones, so I returned the gesture. He looked as surprised to see me as I felt seeing him. He looked different somehow. Maybe it was just because he was clean-shaven. Or maybe it was merely because he had become something different to me since the last time I'd seen him.

We made small-talk for about a minute. He remembered the date of my departure from town and asked about my schedule until then. I made myself sound busy (which, actually, I am). When he asked where I was going via Tube, I merely stated that I was switching lines, carefully avoiding mention of the man I was on my way to meet. I didn't want to hurt Alessandro any more than I already had.

I hugged him. And then we had an awkward moment of having to detangle our headphone cords from each other before we went on our separate ways.

There are millions of people in this city. And I couldn't help but suspect, as I always do, that God pulled some strings so that this encounter would happen.

As I walked away from Alessandro, I felt like I should have said more. Perhaps I should have acknowledged I saw he had changed his facebook status to a series of question marks moments after ending the phone call when I told him I was seeing someone else. Or perhaps I should have thanked him for showing me one of my favorite parts of the city (which I in turn showed to my classmate Wifey, and thanks to Alessandro's guidance and insights it became one of her favorites as well). Maybe I should have apologized.

Mostly, I wish I'd thanked him. I may not have written much about it here (nor do I plan to, at this point), but he did wonderful things for me. He gave me stories about my time in London, and they're a greater gift than I realized when they were being formed.

I don't regret ending things with Alessandro for Phil. Not in the least.

Nor do I regret never really starting things with Blake.

One night, a couple of weeks ago, I had a perfect opportunity to spend some unexpected one-on-one time with Blake, but missed it because I had tentative plans with Alessandro. I tried to rectify the situation, but it had passed. I was kicking myself over it, and ended up canceling with Alessandro (not wanting, of course, to be in a bad mood with one guy because I was disappointed about another). And then I felt like I'd screwed things up with both of them. I remember complaining to D-Train and Two-Shots-Up that night, lamenting that I am an awkward disaster in the realm of casual dating.

It's funny in retrospect. I remember trying to comfort myself at the time with my mantra that "everything happens for a reason", and being unable to find solace in it. As it turns out, I would've been right to trust it.

That night, I texted back and forth with Blake. He sent me a message saying that we could always arrange a one-on-one encounter at another time. He had already suggested that we go out for coffee weeks before that, although no plans were made. And then again last Thursday he offered the possibility of us going out to dinner together. And at that point, I was incredibly hopeful about it.

But Blake went out of town the same weekend that Alessandro did. Which was long enough for me to meet Phil and promptly forget all about any other possibilities.

I ran into Blake on Friday. It was the first time I'd seen him in over a week. The last I saw him, he said there was a nice restaurant he thought we should go to, where I would have an excuse to wear my new white dress.

"Hey, I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time," he said. He looked at me in a way that he hadn't before. More melancholy, perhaps.

"That's because you haven't", I responded.

I asked how he'd been. How his trip to Ireland had gone. And I invited him to go out dancing that night (I had plans to go with Phil, D-Train, and several people who ended up changing their minds). He declined.

"But we should hang out at some point before you leave," he submitted. I smiled and agreed before walking away, knowing that there was a good chance that it wouldn't come to fruition.



When I got back to my flat, I spoke with D-Train and Two-Shots-Up. They had seen Blake earlier in the day, and had shown him pictures on Facebook of us dancing at a bar called "Tiger Tiger". Blake had come across one of me with Phil, taken the day that he and I had met.

"Who's that," Blake asked them.

Two-Shots-Up exclaimed, "That's her MAN!"

She and D-Train both immediately realized that her statement may not have been the best thing to say in front of Blake. In my imagination, he looked crestfallen at the words, although I don't think either of them actually gave me verbal acknowledgement of that when telling the story.

"When did she meet him," Blake asked, downplaying his reaction.

"Really recently," D-Train attempted to state tactfully, attempting to soften the blow. "Just a few days ago, really."

"But you know how it is," Two-Shots-Up explained, "sometimes you meet someone and you just know."



I guess I'm glad that Blake didn't have to hear it from me. But I guess that explains why he seemed to be something slightly other than himself when I ran into him.

I do like Blake. He's a lovely person. And I suppose part of me wonders if anything would have happened between us had I not met Phil.

But honestly, I don't feel guilty about Blake the way I do with Alessandro. He could've taken me out, but never did. He could've done more than send me the occasional debatably-flirtatious text message. He didn't.

Blake had the right cards in his hand, but folded. Alessandro knew how to play, but he just didn't have the cards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I talked with Phil a few days ago about the stuff in my last post. And by "stuff", I mean, "What are we doing, how do we handle this, and where do we go from here?"

He's done the long-distance thing in the past. He has dated two Americans before. And it sounds like those two girls were the most profound heartbreaks of his life. So he's understandably terrified.

He thinks he's falling in love with me.

(His words. Unprovoked. I promise.)

He said we could try to make a go of it, but it might be too hard to do it without fear. Or we could wait and see if our lives lead us to the same place (like L.A.), but it might ruin other things in the meanwhile.

Of course, being the obsessive/compulsive over-thinking, worrying, worst-case-scenario planner that I am, I had already pondered these situations, and had come up with the alternative a couple days before (and, in fact, had blogged it).

I suggested my plan...

No formal commitment.
Stay in good contact (in a commitment-less dating sort of way).
Hope that at some point it will become obvious that we should either become committed or break it off before commitment sets in.

After all, I know that the feelings we're having are intensified because of this pressure-cooker of a time limit. If the circumstances were different, I wouldn't lock someone I met a week and a half ago into an exclusive relationship. And to try to do that with a 5-hour time zone gap and an ocean separating us would be, in my mind, idealistic and foolhardy. I don't want to rush into anything. If we're going to do this, I want to do it right.

He says he's still in the same stage as I am, where he can't stop talking about me. His flatmate will be eating an apple, and Phil will say, "Angela likes apples." His roommate will say he's about to walk down the street, and Phil will reply, "The other day Angela and I were walking down a street..." (These exaggerations are his and not mine, in case you're curious.)

Phil said he wants to call up people he hasn't spoken with in months just to tell them the story of how we met. He said thinks he'll still be doing that six months from now. It gave me hope to hear that. In his imagination, I'm still important six months from now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was my last day of classes in London. For the rest of grad school, really. It's mostly performing from here on out.

I'm going to try to meet P from *Insert My Blog Name Here* today, as she happens to be in town. I'm rather excited about that. :)

I was going to try to see a show tonight. Perhaps I still will. Or maybe go to karaoke, if the stars align. Or to a museum. To one of the many things I promised myself I'd do, but that took the back burner when I discovered other wonderful things.

I plan to see Phil tonight and tomorrow morning. And then to have a very unhappy goodbye.

I'm going on the glorified ferris wheel tourist trap known as the London Eye tomorrow with Two-Shots-Up. I'm hoping that my fear of heights stays in check.

I'll see Blake tomorrow. He's meeting Two-Shots-Up and I to give us the tickets. Maybe he'll end up on the Eye with us so that he and I can have that chat he asked for. Or maybe not. I have faith that things will work out exactly the way they that they are meant to.

Early Thursday morning, I'll leave for Greece with Two-Shots-Up, All-The-Way, and Killer. We're spending two nights in Delphi and two in Athens.

After that, Two-Shots-Up and I have more adventures planned. Santorini, Milan, and Cinque Terre. We don't have all the kinks worked out, but I'm starting to feel less terrified about the whole thing.

And then I come back to London on the evening on the 29th. And I leave on the morning of July 1st.

I don't know if that last sentence registered in your head, but to me, it's the most exciting of my travel plans.

I get to spend just a little more time with Phil.

And then I'll head back to Connecticut. And only God knows what will happen from there.



Maybe this is unwise...

but I have my hopes up.



May you conquer your fear of falling.
And when things start falling apart, may it be so that they can fall into place.

(And when falling... Mind the Gap.)


~A~