The Sighting
It is rare that I feel like Daniel heading into the den of lions. There are plenty of places in this city where I have memories of dates -- some good, some bad -- but they are just that, distant memories. For example, although so far I've had no reason or need to, I could return to the Starbucks where P and I met with no problems.
The neighborhood where the ex lives is a different matter. Heck, that first week I practically lived at his apartment, spending almost every night there. I can drive there in my sleep if need be. So when last Thursday had me needing to return to that area, I was a bit anxious. Many months ago, I agreed to sub a few Zumba classes for my friend L, and two of them are at the branch in the ex's neighborhood.
Now when I say "neighborhood," let me clarify. His apartment overlooks the gym parking lot and front door. The two are separated by about 100 yards, if that. The gym address is 11300, his apartment building is 11400. If it wasn't for a drainage culvert (and I think a fence to keep people out of that), you could walk as the bird flies between the two in under 2 minutes.
I pulled into the gym parking lot that evening, a little anxious but keeping my wits about me. I intentionally chose a spot that was both far from the door -- my standard procedure as a staff member -- and also did not look at his apartment. Instead, it was facing the main street. I was a bit early, so I pulled out my phone and did the obligatory "check in" on Facebook. As I was finishing that up, I looked up from my phone towards the street.
At that same moment, a very familiar car with an even more familiar driver went past, presumably on his way home to the apartment just a few hundred feet away. A fleeting glance, a mere sighting, but enough to make my heart stop for a moment or two. I seriously doubt he saw me, which is fine.
I chose to walk into the gym with a little extra swagger, making sure my legging-clad hips and bum were really doing their thing. I may not be super proud of my backside, but it was one of his favorite parts of me, supposedly. The song in my playlist about a girl going crazy and her boyfriend dumping her -- yeah, it has this great "screw you!" move in it, repeatedly, and it just happened that many of them were in the direction of his apartment. And when my class was over, I walked out of the gym, head held high, proud, confident, and happy. And very sweaty.
I definitely doubt he saw any of that, meaning my entrance and exit. It doesn't matter, because the battle and the victory were all within me. Could I go back there and be me? The real me, not the partially broken me? The answer was yes, and I know I can go back there this coming Thursday with the same sassy confidence.
However, something happened on Sunday to make me question a little bit my inner strength.
Sunday was my friends L & T's church wedding, and I was the musician. Before the ceremony, we were doing pictures and they wanted to be sure I was included and not "just serving" because I'm "part of their family." According to many people at the wedding, I was looking absolutely stunning, gorgeous, beautiful. The last thing L said to me before going to tuck herself away prior to the ceremony was "<the ex> is a silly man." In her British accent, you would know that is a compliment to me and an insult to him.
But at the time, I suddenly had another thought. Did she say that because he'd changed his RSVP? Was he initially wrong about the graduation or whatever it was he had, and now he was going to be at the wedding? I had no opportunity to ask; she was gone and it was time for me to start the prelude. I sat at the piano in my sunken niche with a racing heart and shaking hands. Between the physical set-up of the church and where the piano was and the fact that I generally have to keep my eyes on the music while playing, I was only able to sneak the occasional surreptitious glance out into the audience/congregation.
On my second or third glance, my eyes caught a man who bore a striking resemblance to the ex. I resolutely went back to my playing and tried to calm down the butterflies procreating in my stomach.
I played the entire ceremony with a big question mark in my head. Was it him? Was it not him? I only saw part of his head, face, and glasses frames. It looked like him, but then again, it didn't. At the same time, I remember him proudly saying he could be a "chameleon," which was why employers loved him in sales: he could change his appearance convincingly to approach both rural farmers and Fortune 500 executives.
I'm really, really glad I never had to see the overalls, although he threatened on more than one occasion to wear them somewhere.
The ceremony ended, and the congregation went out to mingle in the courtyard while the rest of us finished the set-up for the British High Tea reception. As the guests entered, I was playing some light Bach, Clementi, and Chopin, and I had a much better vantage point from behind the parlor piano than I did from the chapel piano. I watched the people enter, and in he came.
And I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't him.
However, the whole ordeal had me wondering what I would (will?) be like if/when we decide to meet up again. In my dreams and idyllic mental pictures, I'm calm, serene, composed, and in control. If that period during the wedding is any indication, I may actually be a hot mess. However, I have learned over the years that, thanks to 20 years of performing experience, I am quite skilled at appearing extremely calm when I'm actually shaking, quaking, and overall nervous and terrified. Regardless, that is a bridge that I will cross should my life's path even take me to it.
Meanwhile, I still have not contacted him. I had a long talk with M, my yenta in MN, and she banged some sense into me which has been confirmed by other friends as "the right plan." I still have some self-doubt -- Dr. Brene Brown calls these things "gremlins" -- questioning if me backing away completely will cause him to, well, forget me. My friends insist he won't do that, and that I'm pretty darn unforgettable. I'm trusting them, as hard as it is sometimes. He has said that, if he's available, he'll come hear me preach next month. I'm planning on sending out a mass email to local friends outside my church inviting them to that event and letting them know that in the week following, the sermon, good or bad, will be uploaded to a new YouTube channel. He will be included in that email, and I'd almost put down money in Vegas that if he replies, it will say he is unavailable, good luck, and he'll try to watch it online sometime.
If he's not ready, he's not ready. He's got issues, many he doesn't necessarily realize. I'm a nurturer, a fixer, so I see those and want to help rather than shun someone because of them. But if one isn't ready to deal with them, the nurturer will be pushed away. So, as always, I'm trying to trust in God's time and plan. I generally feel open to meeting new people, but at the same time part of me feels the ex is worth waiting for. In other words, my heart and brain are still confused and silly.
It will all be sorted out in due time, of this I am sure.
The neighborhood where the ex lives is a different matter. Heck, that first week I practically lived at his apartment, spending almost every night there. I can drive there in my sleep if need be. So when last Thursday had me needing to return to that area, I was a bit anxious. Many months ago, I agreed to sub a few Zumba classes for my friend L, and two of them are at the branch in the ex's neighborhood.
Now when I say "neighborhood," let me clarify. His apartment overlooks the gym parking lot and front door. The two are separated by about 100 yards, if that. The gym address is 11300, his apartment building is 11400. If it wasn't for a drainage culvert (and I think a fence to keep people out of that), you could walk as the bird flies between the two in under 2 minutes.
I pulled into the gym parking lot that evening, a little anxious but keeping my wits about me. I intentionally chose a spot that was both far from the door -- my standard procedure as a staff member -- and also did not look at his apartment. Instead, it was facing the main street. I was a bit early, so I pulled out my phone and did the obligatory "check in" on Facebook. As I was finishing that up, I looked up from my phone towards the street.
At that same moment, a very familiar car with an even more familiar driver went past, presumably on his way home to the apartment just a few hundred feet away. A fleeting glance, a mere sighting, but enough to make my heart stop for a moment or two. I seriously doubt he saw me, which is fine.
I chose to walk into the gym with a little extra swagger, making sure my legging-clad hips and bum were really doing their thing. I may not be super proud of my backside, but it was one of his favorite parts of me, supposedly. The song in my playlist about a girl going crazy and her boyfriend dumping her -- yeah, it has this great "screw you!" move in it, repeatedly, and it just happened that many of them were in the direction of his apartment. And when my class was over, I walked out of the gym, head held high, proud, confident, and happy. And very sweaty.
I definitely doubt he saw any of that, meaning my entrance and exit. It doesn't matter, because the battle and the victory were all within me. Could I go back there and be me? The real me, not the partially broken me? The answer was yes, and I know I can go back there this coming Thursday with the same sassy confidence.
However, something happened on Sunday to make me question a little bit my inner strength.
Sunday was my friends L & T's church wedding, and I was the musician. Before the ceremony, we were doing pictures and they wanted to be sure I was included and not "just serving" because I'm "part of their family." According to many people at the wedding, I was looking absolutely stunning, gorgeous, beautiful. The last thing L said to me before going to tuck herself away prior to the ceremony was "<the ex> is a silly man." In her British accent, you would know that is a compliment to me and an insult to him.
But at the time, I suddenly had another thought. Did she say that because he'd changed his RSVP? Was he initially wrong about the graduation or whatever it was he had, and now he was going to be at the wedding? I had no opportunity to ask; she was gone and it was time for me to start the prelude. I sat at the piano in my sunken niche with a racing heart and shaking hands. Between the physical set-up of the church and where the piano was and the fact that I generally have to keep my eyes on the music while playing, I was only able to sneak the occasional surreptitious glance out into the audience/congregation.
On my second or third glance, my eyes caught a man who bore a striking resemblance to the ex. I resolutely went back to my playing and tried to calm down the butterflies procreating in my stomach.
I played the entire ceremony with a big question mark in my head. Was it him? Was it not him? I only saw part of his head, face, and glasses frames. It looked like him, but then again, it didn't. At the same time, I remember him proudly saying he could be a "chameleon," which was why employers loved him in sales: he could change his appearance convincingly to approach both rural farmers and Fortune 500 executives.
I'm really, really glad I never had to see the overalls, although he threatened on more than one occasion to wear them somewhere.
The ceremony ended, and the congregation went out to mingle in the courtyard while the rest of us finished the set-up for the British High Tea reception. As the guests entered, I was playing some light Bach, Clementi, and Chopin, and I had a much better vantage point from behind the parlor piano than I did from the chapel piano. I watched the people enter, and in he came.
And I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't him.
However, the whole ordeal had me wondering what I would (will?) be like if/when we decide to meet up again. In my dreams and idyllic mental pictures, I'm calm, serene, composed, and in control. If that period during the wedding is any indication, I may actually be a hot mess. However, I have learned over the years that, thanks to 20 years of performing experience, I am quite skilled at appearing extremely calm when I'm actually shaking, quaking, and overall nervous and terrified. Regardless, that is a bridge that I will cross should my life's path even take me to it.
Meanwhile, I still have not contacted him. I had a long talk with M, my yenta in MN, and she banged some sense into me which has been confirmed by other friends as "the right plan." I still have some self-doubt -- Dr. Brene Brown calls these things "gremlins" -- questioning if me backing away completely will cause him to, well, forget me. My friends insist he won't do that, and that I'm pretty darn unforgettable. I'm trusting them, as hard as it is sometimes. He has said that, if he's available, he'll come hear me preach next month. I'm planning on sending out a mass email to local friends outside my church inviting them to that event and letting them know that in the week following, the sermon, good or bad, will be uploaded to a new YouTube channel. He will be included in that email, and I'd almost put down money in Vegas that if he replies, it will say he is unavailable, good luck, and he'll try to watch it online sometime.
If he's not ready, he's not ready. He's got issues, many he doesn't necessarily realize. I'm a nurturer, a fixer, so I see those and want to help rather than shun someone because of them. But if one isn't ready to deal with them, the nurturer will be pushed away. So, as always, I'm trying to trust in God's time and plan. I generally feel open to meeting new people, but at the same time part of me feels the ex is worth waiting for. In other words, my heart and brain are still confused and silly.
It will all be sorted out in due time, of this I am sure.
Comments
Post a Comment
We are all adults here. Comments are welcome, but they are also moderated because there has been a marked increase in spam, trolling, and generally snarky and nasty comments being submitted. Different opinions are welcome when expressed maturely; rude comments and links will not be published.