Tornado

OK. I admit it. I am two weeks shy of 31 and I sometimes have my sister check my email when there's something there I don't think I want to read.

Sometimes things just work themselves out. And sometimes it takes a near nervous breakdown and three phone calls to your sister at work and a surprise free evening of printing and making some silly blunders and playing the game and changing your plans and pulling up your big girl pants to get things to work out. And sometimes they work out swimmingly and your world returns to a sort of stasis. And while you still might be freaked out about money (who isn't right now?) all that crap you went through leads you to some crazy coincidences and new friends and a shit ton of good prints.

And so you can sit quietly for awhile and hope the next storm is less intense.

Kick You In the Ass

Jen Brown has this theory. That I have learned to subscribe to. That you should never get too comfortable with how well things are going. Because once you start feeling OK with things karma (or your own cockiness) will catch up with you and kick you in the face. While you're down. And then you'll spend twice as long getting back up as you did feeling pretty damned good. It's a shitty thing. But I'm finding it's true.

Yesterday was a good day. I finally caught up with the head of the printmaking MFA at CSU-Fort Collins. Or he caught up with me. Whatever, we had a good chat and it felt promising. I'm headed out there in October to tour the studios and meet the faculty and other grads. It's a great little program, sweet studios, close to my family, and Fort Collins has a happenin' bike community. And, in my own secret little dark places, I know that Fort Collins is an easy drive from Colorado Springs where Matt Barton is a professor. Cause I'm creepy.

Anyway. Then I got word that the class I was supposed to start Sunday had been cancelled. This is good news because it frees up my Sunday nights and, since the money was already spent, gets me three months worth of studio rental at the Pratt. Awesome. Monday night square dancing will just have to take the back burner.

These two little (monumental in my world, actually) things had me feeling pretty good about life. Forget boys. I could concentrate on school and printing. And so I headed off to fix some bikes with my mechanic and thought I didn't have a care in the world.

Except that last night it became more than glaringly apparent that what I thought was sort of innocent flirtation was much more to Mr. Mechanic. And that I had been encouraging this fliration thinking that he knew full well that it wasn't going anywhere. Because he has a girlfriend. And I'm not interested in him in that way. But the looks I got when I told him I'd take him to a show to pay for the work he'd done! I crossed some boundary. I'm not sure what it was. But the boys' eyebrows all raised and Mr. Mechanic's enthusiasm was a little too. And in trying to find myself innocent I found I couldn't be let off the hook. Jen Brown put it to me straight; just because I work with 20 year olds doesn't mean I have to act like one.

And so I will be putting my "startling" directness to work Friday. I will say, "Dear sir. Judging from the looks I got from your friends in inviting you to this show I crossed some man boundary. I don't know what it was, but I do know we hae been flirting with that line pretty intensely. And now it will stop. No more sexual innuendo. No more hanging out just the two of us. If your girlfriend knew about this she'd be pissed and she has every right. I am just as guilty as you. And it's done. From now on no innuendo and if we hang out it's you and me and a number three."

As long as I'm putting my directness to work (mind you these will most likely never be said):

"Fuck it, Andy. Come play polo. I don't need to date you. I like you, you like me. I know how to be friends. I'm surrounded by men I don't sleep with and what's one more?"

"Matt. Can we talk?"

Dear Matt Barton

It is quite likely that you do not remember much of this. We met some 10 years ago in Robert Smith's painting class. I am not sure how we started talking but I do remember discovering that I'd started college in your home town. The next class you brought photos of your parents' home so that I could confirm that yes, I had walked on their (and your) brick wall down Lincoln Ave. on my way to the market in Evansville, IN.

Matt Barton, I am sorry that I spent the next three years keeping you at bay.

Do you remember that day in the sculpture studio? It was a Sunday, an open studio day. I was covered head to toe in dust. I was wearing an air mask. I had my sander in hand. You approached the table I was standing on. I don't remember what you said I only remember that the way you looked at me was so intense I knew if I took that mask off I would be left with no choice but to strip down right there in the studio and let you have your way with me. That mask was the only thing that kept me from making what I thought at the time was a Very Big Mistake.

After that I was afraid to be alone with you. I made sure only to see you in class. That day in the studio left me feeling oddly guilty but also exhilarated, unsure of what to do with you.

I remember that you went to Italy. I remember when you came back. It was the first day of classes my last semester at school. I remember I was walking into the printmaking studio and you were walking out of ceramics. And you stopped me. And that familiar feeling of panic and excitement came over me. And you said (and I will never forget), "I thought about you a lot while I was over there." And what did I do? I turned on my heel and walked quickly into class. My god what was I thinking?

Matt Barton I am sorry.

Because I thought about you, too. I missed you. I can't say that my feelings were intense or needful. I had so much going on then, so much to sort through. But I sensed you were absent. And every time your memory slips into my head I regret walking away from you.

And so, Matt Barton, I have found you through the magic of Facebook. And I have contacted you. And you were nice enough to "friend" me. And most likely that is the most I will get. Not that I am looking to "get". Only to know that you are alive and doing so well and living the way we all wish we could. I am sorry if I hurt you. I am sorry that I was so young and knew so little. I am sorry that I didn't take a chance with you.

Jesus, Matt Barton, I am sorry.

The Situation(s)

Let me start by saying that I've been oh-so-strong. I can't say that I haven't been thinking about all this horseshit but I can say I haven't called, emailed, driven by his house, checked the schedule of flights leaving for Pittsburgh tomorrow, or any number of other crazy things I could have done and may very well have done in the past. And so I thought it time to explain the situations that made this mess a bigger mess than it needed to be.

It started the night of the porch make out session. We spent about half the evening trying not to touch one another. And then Mr. P's phone buzzed. And he said it was his mom. And then we sat there for a bit. And he put on his hand on my leg and said, "In the interest of full disclosure..." and we exchanged the following stories.

Mr. P is about three months out from an eight year relationship that ended with a broken engagement because he returned from law school to find that his fiancee had been cheating on him for two and a half years. (This I knew before we sat on his porch). Awesome. Anyhoo, that night he told me he needed to let me know that there was a girl (and that's who had really called), with whom he had been close friends all through law school and who he knew had feelings for him, who was coming to visit (and she is here now and leaves tomorrow) and he didn't know what was going to happen. And at the time, Joe was coming and I wasn't sure how I was going to handle that and I told him as much. This is when we decided that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas and that we wouldn't sleep together. But that it was OK to make out. In retrospect I should have stood up, told him it was nice to meet him but neither of us was in a spot to start anything, and that he could call me when she had come and gone.

The whole story to his story is that she had been very clear that she had feelings for him for two years but he was engaged and so when he told her he thought it was over (before he really knew what had happened and when he still thought they might work it out) they slept together. In his words it was a mistake- they'd both been drinking, she felt differently about it than he did, etc. So he wasn't exactly proud of that but was honest. I assumed with her as well. Honest, I mean. At any rate, he got out here, the shit hit the fan, and since most of his friends here have since married and procreated and moved to islands or have left Seattle all together she became his emotional dumping ground. (My words, not his.) So it was her idea to come out here and he said at the time it sounded good and so he told her to book the flight and they'd have fun together for a few days and then she could go back to school. It was very much a "let's see what happens" trip. Kind of like with Joe only I'd never slept with Joe.

Because the thing with Joe is that we've been friends for a really long time but the timing was always off. I was being crazy, he had a girlfriend, I had a boyfriend, he moved across the country. So in July he finally broke up with the girlfriend he's been breaking up with over and over for three years and in order to avoid the really dangerous few days after a big break up he high tailed it out here. Joe and I have been flirting with this (and disaster) for a year now. Talking about his making a trip and it'd be like old times. And the whole getting naked thing was always under the surface but never spoken. So he books his trip and I'm pretty sure the time is right to finally get this out of my system and then I meet Mr. P. And so as we're sitting on the porch I'm trying to decide how I want to handle this. Because I really like Mr. P. But there's Joe. And I've been waiting for this for over six years. But I also know that Joe feels differently about it than I do. As in he feels more. And I'm just curious. Up until the Thursday of the week that Joe was here I wasn't sure what I was going to do. And then we didn't. Didn't mess around. We talked about it- the whys and hows of why we haven't. But we didn't do it and it's a good thing. Whew. What was I thinking? I'm not cut out for that kind of crap.

So anyway. Neither of us is completely innocent (although I might be a tinier bit so if we want to measure) and that's what has made this whole mess messier.

The Right Thing

So Tuesday night I'm running some errands and I get back to my car to a voicemail from- you'll never believe it- Mr. P. He was back in Seattle and things had settled down and did I have some time this week. So of course I called my sister. And I called Alley. And I emailed Jen. And we all decided that I probably did have some time this week but that I needed to let him know I was not OK with wishy washy and that I was not to kiss him.

So. We meet. We get warmed up. We're having a good time. It's fun. I'm thinking, oh yeah, I did like you. And so we go to the lake and we're talking about everything and the moment is totally right to kiss and I launch into it. I let him know I remember that his "friend" his coming. I let him know that I remember that we were in similar situations when we last met. And that I handled my situation (and this situation as well as Mr. P's deserves its own post) in a certain way and that it was right for everyone involved. And that I've changed gears- no more murky, no more grey. I don't want to fuck around because it doesn't work. And he tells me if I'm looking for straight forward he can't give that to me right now. Because he doesn't know how things are going to go down and he hasn't even thought about how he's going to handle his friend's visit. And he doesn't want to put me in that position. He really likes me and he likes hanging out and goddamnit if I want to go for a ride or anything I should call him. And so I tell him he can turn in his resume when he gets his head on straight and we'll talk then. Man I hate that book. I know it was the right thing to do. I know. But that doesn't mean it doesn't suck.

After awhile I thought that I probably liked Mr. P because he was someone new and exciting and different and he'd kissed me. But last night I remembered that he was funny and smart and loved his family and actually remembered what I said and things I liked and talked about and made me feel cute and like a bad ass. And he just assumed, talked, like we were going to move forward with this. Last night he was talking about taking me snowshoeing and where we could go eat and ride and how he wanted to meet my friends and do things together.

And then he goes and says he can't give me straight forward. Which I guess is at least an honest answer but it doesn't line up with, "It's too bad you can't ski but we could snowshoe at Mt. Baker, too." So then you have to wonder if he's just filling you full of shit to keep you around or saying things that he thinks you want to hear (which he admitted to doing at times and said that since I was being honest about this he was going to be, too) or just maybe really isn't all that sure about things and is speaking before he thinks. According to the book any and all of these things indicate that 1) he's just not that into me and 2) he's an asshole.

After all my very measured and controlled speaking about the situation, trying very hard not to get desperate and crazy, he was the one who asked me, "So where does this leave us?" And honestly, what I'd hoped, is that he'd hear all this and just go away. Well, first I hoped that he'd hear all this and say, "You're right. I do want to be with you and we can't do this if I'm not sure how I'll handle it when my visitor comes and so I'm going to handle it X and we'll make this work." But if I'm saying I don't want murky and I don't want grey and I didn't want to do this if he couldn't give me 100% and he's saying he can't give me what I need it sounds like a perfect opportunity for him to bail. Unless he doesn't want to bail because he knows she's going back to Pittsburgh and so nothing can really happen there and so when she goes he'll be alone and it'll be easier to just pick up where we left off than try to find someone new. This is what the book tells me.

But when he asked I had to breathe in and out a few times and think about it some and that's when I told him that when he got his head on straight he could resubmit his resume and we'd talk then. And yes, that's what I told him. My sister nearly died. But he thought it was funny and asked if this would be a committee review and whether Jen Brown would be participating from New Zealand. And see? That's why I like the guy.

And so. And so. That's why I hate the book. I mean, I know it's right and that I should believe that he's taking the easy way out in not giving me a committment and I don't for one second think that he's being noble by being honest. He's just being honest. I'd like to think that he's going to talk to her about it because man does that suck for her if she thinks she's coming out here to start something that will carry her through the rest of school and he has no intention of that nevermind me. I'd like to think that our talking about things so candidly will make him realize that he should do the same for her. But I won't hold my breath.

I don't know what to do here. I don't think he's going to go away. I would bet money he calls next week as soon as she leaves. She gets here Sunday and I'm pretty sure they saw one another while he was traveling and then she leaves Thursday and he wants to know about bike polo that night. A few hours is not time enough to get one's head on straight. I'm not sure how I feel about the "waiting" (which I'm not doing but let's be honest in that the odds are against my finding another boy I like in a week or less) while he has his fun. He didn't ask me to wait but still. However, as Bridget (who was adamant that he's a jerk and not worth my time) put it, he actually probably wouldn't be coming back for the wrong reasons. I haven't slept with him. And I've just told him I'm not going to put up with any shit and delivered on those words and that if he's up for that then OK and so he knows what he's getting into (I think he may have told me my directness was startling). It's not like he told me he wanted out only to come crawling back. I've told him.

And so, thank you book, I hold the power. I love power.

This is me right this second deciding not to pine. To hold my head high (and hope I don't see him and his friend anywhere next week) and let him decide he should act like a man who knows what he wants.

That's better, right? Twelve hours of feeling all mixed up as opposed to three weeks.