A couple of weeks ago, on what I guess could logically be called our first date (when we went to that speakeasy, but I wouldn't let him pay so that it wouldn't actually be a date, because I'm stubborn), Gus showed up to my place with a present. He printed a photo from a short-lived tv show we both like called Clone High and used it as wrapping paper, with a note on the wrapping that said, "Just cuz. xoxo, Gus"
He gave me "Freaks and Geeks" on DVD. Because he'd brought it up in conversation once, and he couldn't believe that I hadn't seen it. Any of it. Despite the fact that it was the first role that the actress I stand-in for ever had.
I'm fairly certain that he was able to obtain this gift for free through his workplace (he often acquires free DVDs), but it was still sweet. And the thing I liked most was the homemade wrapping paper. And just, you know, the general thoughtfulness of the thing.
Sometimes I'm really glad I live alone. Because tonight, I watched the first three episodes of "Freaks and Geeks", while alternating between spoonfuls of Nutella and A1. Yes, I know that's bizarre. And not something I've ever done before (so don't go blaming my recent weight yo-yo-ing on that...; side note, I gained 8 pounds, and then lost 5 again, so I'm back at 113 today). But damn, it was delicious.
(One time, when I was working on my first professional play, I stayed up late watching episodes of The 4400 while eating Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked ice cream (which is Chocolate Fudge Brownie mixed with Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough) with caramel sauce, chocolate sauce, and green olives, all mixed in. The green olives really gave it something special. I ate the entire pint... and an entire jar of olives. And then I was massively ill the next day, and could never eat that combination again.)
And now it's 4am. And I have a lot on my mind, and a strange stew in my stomach, and cannot sleep. So, I'm taking to the blog.
----------------------------------------
I wrote my tumultuous, emotional post on Sunday morning. The day the play was closing.
We had our final performance. It went well. I took some pictures.
Actually, I felt weird when I was putting photos on facebook, because I realized that I have so many more with Gus than with anyone else. I tried to limit how many I put on, but it's still fairly obvious that he's in the most. Let's just hope Phil isn't facebook-stalking me too hard. Or any of the cast.
Anyway.
After the final show of a run, two things happen.
1.) Strike -- This means breaking down the set, sorting out the costumes, and generally doing everything you can to make it seem like this show never happened. It's a very strange, occasionally emotional process. In professional theatres, actors generally have very little to do with it. But in little theatres like this one, we are our own crew. I actually prefer being involved in the strike. It gives me a sense of closure.
2.) Cast party -- This generally involves people getting drunk, and often making questionable decisions. And it is always, always a good time.
Gus came up to me privately during the performance to inform me that he had no intention of attending the cast party (probably right after he photo-bombed picture #2, actually).
So during strike, I told him I would like him to come. And then I walked out to the lobby, where I knew no one would be, fully expecting him to follow me. And he did. And in that moment, I must admit, I felt delightfully powerful.
But he wouldn't budge on coming to the cast party. He didn't even really have an explanation. Just that he was sick of everyone. And that he'd rather try to go see some art-house indie film in Encino. And that the party was being held really far away (dear God, was it ever... a cast-member's parents' house, which was at least 45 minutes north of the valley in zero traffic... and the valley is already 30 minutes north of where I live, in zero traffic).
I asked if this were his way of breaking things off with me. And I stood strong, proud, and independent as I very honestly told him that if he wanted to end things right then and right there, that I would be just fine. And in that moment, it was a true statement. Because the last 24 hours had been so upsetting that I think part of me would've been relieved if he'd just walked away. But his response was, "No! What? Why would you say that? Why would you THINK that? I want this."
I told him I wanted to hang out with him. And that it wouldn't be as fun without him there. He told me that I didn't have to feel obligated to go to the party, but I told him I wanted to go. He said I should call him when I left, but I knew I'd stay late, and I had an audition in the morning, which prevented me from being out to an ungodly hour.
Anyway. After one last declaration that he wasn't coming, and one last "I really wish you would, but whatever, it's up to you" sort of declaration from me, we were interrupted by some other cast members. In the lobby, alone. Talking in hushed tones, standing as close as people can stand without actually physically touching. It seemed we had indeed made it through the entire run of the show with no one noticing that we'd been dating through most of the performances, but in that moment, I felt like we'd been caught. And, strangely, caught in what must've looked like a very weird lovers' quarrel. So I took off back towards the strike, and he took off out of the theatre.
About five minutes later, my good sense kicked in. And I realized that, as much as I do enjoy all of my cast-mates, even putting their positive qualities in combination, I'd still rather be hanging out with Gus. So I texted him and asked if we could hang out before the party. I'd given all the contributions to the strike efforts that I could, and the party wasn't going to start for a couple of hours anyway. I could just be late.
He told me to meet him in the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant next door to the theatre. I said some quick goodbyes, told everyone I had some things to do and would be at the party late, gathered my things, and rushed out to meet Gus. As we were driving away, one of the other cast members was walking to his car, and said, "Bye you two! See you later!"
Caught. Definitely. Probably. Maybe?
Driving to the movie theatre felt exciting. Like we were running away from something. Like in the end of "The Graduate", but with much lower stakes involved (and thus, much more fun and less troublesome).
And we did some more #realtalk. But this time, it was better. He said he thought I'd want to end things. I don't. He said he's just as confused about everything as I am. He doesn't know if he should do this. He's worried it's only going to hurt more in the long run if we keep falling for each other, knowing that this can't happen. But that he doesn't want to stop. He said, "I think, right now, we're good for each other."
I don't know if that's actually true. We might, in fact, be terrible for each other. But for right now, it feels right. Even though it isn't right. It feels like this is helping me get through a larger heartbreak. And get back to a place of independence. And do it in a way where I'm not throwing myself heart and soul into a rebound relationship, because I know that's all this can realistically be. It's in many ways very safe for me.
And I worry about him. That this is bad for him. That this is going to screw him up, because he's compromising his values by dating someone religious. But I think he's dated so many women who have used him and not appreciated him... that maybe it's good that he has someone who recognizes the great things in him. Even if it's just for now. Maybe we are, in fact, good for each other.
We discussed how much emotional baggage we each have. Him keeping his guard up, in constant fear of rejection. Me seeing warning signs everywhere for little things that turned into big problems in my last relationship. He planned a whole day for us on Saturday, and I freaked out at him worrying that he was as selfish and controlling as my ex became by the end. He said, "I'm not him. I'm just trying to be romantic." And I bit his head off for that. Which made him say, "It's like we're boarding American Airlines together, and you want me to pay your $700 worth of baggage fees, and I'm just not sure that my bank account can handle that right now."
(Not quite as good a line as the guy on set who told me, "Angela, you're like a big bag of puzzle pieces... and I'm not sure the pieces all go to the same puzzle." But, you know. Close.)
He held my hand as we walked in from the parking garage. We went to see "Frances Ha", which was a delightful little film. And he put his hand on my knee. And I put my head on his shoulder. And it was quite possibly the sweetest, most first-date-like movie-going experience I've ever had.
Now, I've seen movies with Phil. And with The Filmmaker. And with Jake. And I'm sure they held my hand, or had their hand on my knee at some point. That probably happened.
But when I think back on the movies I've seen with boys in movie theatres, the list looks kinda like this: - The 40-Year-Old Virgin
- Wedding Crashers
- Rent
- Inside Man (and we brought another girl with us)
- Spiderman 3
- Star Trek
- Super 8
- Captain America
- Midnight in Paris (and my dad was with us)
- X-Men: First Class
- Cloud Atlas (which Phil went to completely begrudgingly)
I can't remember the others right now, but you get the point. Not exactly cute or romantic fare. And while there were probably sweet moments in Midnight in Paris and Cloud Atlas, the circumstances that surrounded the movie-going experiences kind of ruined the potential of those moments.
But here was this quiet little movie about a gal my age trying to figure out her messy life and looking for love. I identified with several parts, although I wouldn't claim to have much in common with the character. And I felt vulnerable. And some parts were sweet and lovely and full of hope. And there was Gus, stroking my arm, making me feel connected to the world around me. Making me feel like I'm not alone.
He asked if I wanted to rush off to the party, or if I could stay and join him for dinner. We got Japanese food. And we did some people-watching. And we talked. And made fun of the couple sitting at the table across from ours. And we were couple-y in less of a new-couple-y way, and more of a "we've been dating for 6 months" kind of way. I don't know if that's because I'm so used to being in a long-term relationship that I'm skipping steps to get there, or if it's really that we have that good of a connection. Could be either. I'm guessing a little of each.
We ended up getting into a minor car crash in the parking lot (with a concrete flower bed), because Gus comedically swiveled the car around in too extreme of an angle upon me lamenting that we should've gone to a nearby frozen yogurt place. His paint is all scraped up, but the car itself is fine. I insisted on paying for the frozen yogurt, blaming myself for the event. But Gus wouldn't let me take any of the guilt. Not one iota. He said it was his fault, not mine. His mistake. And that at least we hit something inanimate, so no one was hurt and no damages were owed.
What a change from my last relationship. Phil says now that part of the reason he dumped me was because of our car accident. He thought it was a sign that our relationship had become a destructive force. Also, when Phil was backing out of a narrow driveway once, he knocked off the driver's side rear-view mirror, and then blamed it on me for not helping him enough while he was backing up (um, I told him he was fine on MY side. I wasn't looking out for HIS side. That was HIS job).
I ended up going to the cast party late, alone. About 2 minutes before I showed up, an actress in the cast sent me a text saying, "Gus isn't here yet. Do you know where he is?" And a matching text to Gus, asking about me. I knew that it was their way of saying they suspected we were together, and I knew that showing up immediately thereafter would put an end to those rumors.
And the guy who saw us in the car together? Didn't show up to the party until after I did. So he didn't say anything to them. And then he saw me alone. He probably didn't think twice about it.
But the thing is... I kind of like that they were talking about us. And that one of the cast members actually drunkenly dared me to kiss Gus last Friday, saying, "It's just a recommendation. He's good for you." And that at the party, another cast member threw out, "Ah. We thought you were with Gus. Kinda too bad. You two would be good together." And another one saying, "I think Gus might be into you," and upon my denial of this, "Well, if he's not, he should be. You'd be great for him."
I wish they just knew. It would be easier.
--------------------------------------------
Okay, I was writing this on Tuesday night (well, Wednesday morning), and that's when I fell asleep. And then I forgot to write more.
So I'm going to end this with a quotation I just came across, which I think is quite nice, and sums up my feelings on what Phil *should* have done.
“Go after her: Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.”
---Harvey Milk
May you run towards the things that you value.
~A~
He gave me "Freaks and Geeks" on DVD. Because he'd brought it up in conversation once, and he couldn't believe that I hadn't seen it. Any of it. Despite the fact that it was the first role that the actress I stand-in for ever had.
I'm fairly certain that he was able to obtain this gift for free through his workplace (he often acquires free DVDs), but it was still sweet. And the thing I liked most was the homemade wrapping paper. And just, you know, the general thoughtfulness of the thing.
Sometimes I'm really glad I live alone. Because tonight, I watched the first three episodes of "Freaks and Geeks", while alternating between spoonfuls of Nutella and A1. Yes, I know that's bizarre. And not something I've ever done before (so don't go blaming my recent weight yo-yo-ing on that...; side note, I gained 8 pounds, and then lost 5 again, so I'm back at 113 today). But damn, it was delicious.
(One time, when I was working on my first professional play, I stayed up late watching episodes of The 4400 while eating Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked ice cream (which is Chocolate Fudge Brownie mixed with Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough) with caramel sauce, chocolate sauce, and green olives, all mixed in. The green olives really gave it something special. I ate the entire pint... and an entire jar of olives. And then I was massively ill the next day, and could never eat that combination again.)
And now it's 4am. And I have a lot on my mind, and a strange stew in my stomach, and cannot sleep. So, I'm taking to the blog.
----------------------------------------
I wrote my tumultuous, emotional post on Sunday morning. The day the play was closing.
We had our final performance. It went well. I took some pictures.
 |
| Me and Gus in our matching purple costumes, with our well-placed brooches. |
 |
| Gus photo-bombing me in the women's dressing room as I took a picture of myself in my "disguise" costume. |
Anyway.
After the final show of a run, two things happen.
1.) Strike -- This means breaking down the set, sorting out the costumes, and generally doing everything you can to make it seem like this show never happened. It's a very strange, occasionally emotional process. In professional theatres, actors generally have very little to do with it. But in little theatres like this one, we are our own crew. I actually prefer being involved in the strike. It gives me a sense of closure.
2.) Cast party -- This generally involves people getting drunk, and often making questionable decisions. And it is always, always a good time.
Gus came up to me privately during the performance to inform me that he had no intention of attending the cast party (probably right after he photo-bombed picture #2, actually).
So during strike, I told him I would like him to come. And then I walked out to the lobby, where I knew no one would be, fully expecting him to follow me. And he did. And in that moment, I must admit, I felt delightfully powerful.
But he wouldn't budge on coming to the cast party. He didn't even really have an explanation. Just that he was sick of everyone. And that he'd rather try to go see some art-house indie film in Encino. And that the party was being held really far away (dear God, was it ever... a cast-member's parents' house, which was at least 45 minutes north of the valley in zero traffic... and the valley is already 30 minutes north of where I live, in zero traffic).
I asked if this were his way of breaking things off with me. And I stood strong, proud, and independent as I very honestly told him that if he wanted to end things right then and right there, that I would be just fine. And in that moment, it was a true statement. Because the last 24 hours had been so upsetting that I think part of me would've been relieved if he'd just walked away. But his response was, "No! What? Why would you say that? Why would you THINK that? I want this."
I told him I wanted to hang out with him. And that it wouldn't be as fun without him there. He told me that I didn't have to feel obligated to go to the party, but I told him I wanted to go. He said I should call him when I left, but I knew I'd stay late, and I had an audition in the morning, which prevented me from being out to an ungodly hour.
Anyway. After one last declaration that he wasn't coming, and one last "I really wish you would, but whatever, it's up to you" sort of declaration from me, we were interrupted by some other cast members. In the lobby, alone. Talking in hushed tones, standing as close as people can stand without actually physically touching. It seemed we had indeed made it through the entire run of the show with no one noticing that we'd been dating through most of the performances, but in that moment, I felt like we'd been caught. And, strangely, caught in what must've looked like a very weird lovers' quarrel. So I took off back towards the strike, and he took off out of the theatre.
About five minutes later, my good sense kicked in. And I realized that, as much as I do enjoy all of my cast-mates, even putting their positive qualities in combination, I'd still rather be hanging out with Gus. So I texted him and asked if we could hang out before the party. I'd given all the contributions to the strike efforts that I could, and the party wasn't going to start for a couple of hours anyway. I could just be late.
He told me to meet him in the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant next door to the theatre. I said some quick goodbyes, told everyone I had some things to do and would be at the party late, gathered my things, and rushed out to meet Gus. As we were driving away, one of the other cast members was walking to his car, and said, "Bye you two! See you later!"
Caught. Definitely. Probably. Maybe?
Driving to the movie theatre felt exciting. Like we were running away from something. Like in the end of "The Graduate", but with much lower stakes involved (and thus, much more fun and less troublesome).
And we did some more #realtalk. But this time, it was better. He said he thought I'd want to end things. I don't. He said he's just as confused about everything as I am. He doesn't know if he should do this. He's worried it's only going to hurt more in the long run if we keep falling for each other, knowing that this can't happen. But that he doesn't want to stop. He said, "I think, right now, we're good for each other."
I don't know if that's actually true. We might, in fact, be terrible for each other. But for right now, it feels right. Even though it isn't right. It feels like this is helping me get through a larger heartbreak. And get back to a place of independence. And do it in a way where I'm not throwing myself heart and soul into a rebound relationship, because I know that's all this can realistically be. It's in many ways very safe for me.
And I worry about him. That this is bad for him. That this is going to screw him up, because he's compromising his values by dating someone religious. But I think he's dated so many women who have used him and not appreciated him... that maybe it's good that he has someone who recognizes the great things in him. Even if it's just for now. Maybe we are, in fact, good for each other.
We discussed how much emotional baggage we each have. Him keeping his guard up, in constant fear of rejection. Me seeing warning signs everywhere for little things that turned into big problems in my last relationship. He planned a whole day for us on Saturday, and I freaked out at him worrying that he was as selfish and controlling as my ex became by the end. He said, "I'm not him. I'm just trying to be romantic." And I bit his head off for that. Which made him say, "It's like we're boarding American Airlines together, and you want me to pay your $700 worth of baggage fees, and I'm just not sure that my bank account can handle that right now."
(Not quite as good a line as the guy on set who told me, "Angela, you're like a big bag of puzzle pieces... and I'm not sure the pieces all go to the same puzzle." But, you know. Close.)
He held my hand as we walked in from the parking garage. We went to see "Frances Ha", which was a delightful little film. And he put his hand on my knee. And I put my head on his shoulder. And it was quite possibly the sweetest, most first-date-like movie-going experience I've ever had.
Now, I've seen movies with Phil. And with The Filmmaker. And with Jake. And I'm sure they held my hand, or had their hand on my knee at some point. That probably happened.
But when I think back on the movies I've seen with boys in movie theatres, the list looks kinda like this: - The 40-Year-Old Virgin
- Wedding Crashers
- Rent
- Inside Man (and we brought another girl with us)
- Spiderman 3
- Star Trek
- Super 8
- Captain America
- Midnight in Paris (and my dad was with us)
- X-Men: First Class
- Cloud Atlas (which Phil went to completely begrudgingly)
I can't remember the others right now, but you get the point. Not exactly cute or romantic fare. And while there were probably sweet moments in Midnight in Paris and Cloud Atlas, the circumstances that surrounded the movie-going experiences kind of ruined the potential of those moments.
But here was this quiet little movie about a gal my age trying to figure out her messy life and looking for love. I identified with several parts, although I wouldn't claim to have much in common with the character. And I felt vulnerable. And some parts were sweet and lovely and full of hope. And there was Gus, stroking my arm, making me feel connected to the world around me. Making me feel like I'm not alone.
He asked if I wanted to rush off to the party, or if I could stay and join him for dinner. We got Japanese food. And we did some people-watching. And we talked. And made fun of the couple sitting at the table across from ours. And we were couple-y in less of a new-couple-y way, and more of a "we've been dating for 6 months" kind of way. I don't know if that's because I'm so used to being in a long-term relationship that I'm skipping steps to get there, or if it's really that we have that good of a connection. Could be either. I'm guessing a little of each.
We ended up getting into a minor car crash in the parking lot (with a concrete flower bed), because Gus comedically swiveled the car around in too extreme of an angle upon me lamenting that we should've gone to a nearby frozen yogurt place. His paint is all scraped up, but the car itself is fine. I insisted on paying for the frozen yogurt, blaming myself for the event. But Gus wouldn't let me take any of the guilt. Not one iota. He said it was his fault, not mine. His mistake. And that at least we hit something inanimate, so no one was hurt and no damages were owed.
What a change from my last relationship. Phil says now that part of the reason he dumped me was because of our car accident. He thought it was a sign that our relationship had become a destructive force. Also, when Phil was backing out of a narrow driveway once, he knocked off the driver's side rear-view mirror, and then blamed it on me for not helping him enough while he was backing up (um, I told him he was fine on MY side. I wasn't looking out for HIS side. That was HIS job).
I ended up going to the cast party late, alone. About 2 minutes before I showed up, an actress in the cast sent me a text saying, "Gus isn't here yet. Do you know where he is?" And a matching text to Gus, asking about me. I knew that it was their way of saying they suspected we were together, and I knew that showing up immediately thereafter would put an end to those rumors.
And the guy who saw us in the car together? Didn't show up to the party until after I did. So he didn't say anything to them. And then he saw me alone. He probably didn't think twice about it.
But the thing is... I kind of like that they were talking about us. And that one of the cast members actually drunkenly dared me to kiss Gus last Friday, saying, "It's just a recommendation. He's good for you." And that at the party, another cast member threw out, "Ah. We thought you were with Gus. Kinda too bad. You two would be good together." And another one saying, "I think Gus might be into you," and upon my denial of this, "Well, if he's not, he should be. You'd be great for him."
I wish they just knew. It would be easier.
--------------------------------------------
Okay, I was writing this on Tuesday night (well, Wednesday morning), and that's when I fell asleep. And then I forgot to write more.
So I'm going to end this with a quotation I just came across, which I think is quite nice, and sums up my feelings on what Phil *should* have done.
“Go after her: Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.”
---Harvey Milk
May you run towards the things that you value.
~A~
1 comment:
Both of you read these three Joseph Campbell books, and the religious schism will evaporate faster than you can say "Hail Mary" :
goo.gl/dZFUV
goo.gl/UFmb9
goo.gl/Q85a4
Then just let the love flow and follow your blisses together in the sweet battle of contemporary romance.
_Z
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