#fourth sight

The problem, of course, is that I only heard what I wanted to. I heard him say that he liked me. That it scared him. I actually thought it was a good thing, as though the more terrified he was, the more he liked me.

I heard him say he couldn't believe I was leaving town the next day but missed the part where he said he didn't want me to call.

His tell-me-something-I-don't-already-know was meant to scare me away so he wouldn't have to run away himself and be the bad guy. I missed that too.

The low self-esteem, disbelief that I was still there, liking him...All of these should have been clues but they weren't.

His amendment, "I'm not an asshole. I'm just bored" instead of "I'm an asshole." Because a real asshole wouldn't warn me, right?

And so I've posted to the blog and written a number of sad entries in my journal trying to figure it all out; psychoanalyze him as well as myself. Step by step. Mistakes I've made and the reasons behind them.

Self-sabotage. I get it. It feels unfair that I never got to explain all this; plead my case. Actually, it feels wrong that I'd even have to. Two people have to decide if a relationship is worth having. Only one required to say that it isn't. No explanation even required.

Just. gone.

It's easy to let him off the hook; blame it on trust issues. His mom, his ex, his undergrad academic adviser, his whoever insert here. Because if I don't blame someone else, either I was really as disposable as I was treated or he actually did care and threw it away anyway. Which is better?

Sometimes I think he knew he was such a mess that he thought he was protecting me by running away. The thing is, maybe he hasn't hurt me these past years, but it didn't stop me from getting hurt. Instead it was Nathan, Richie, Stan, Adrien. Guys I was seeking out because he wasn't there. He hasn't hurt me lately but I have been hurt.

I remember one time being back home and incredibly drunk. Leslie and I were struggling to simply unlock the front door. Duke escaped and Leslie stood out on the lawn alternately screaming, "Goddammit, Duke! Fine! Just stay out there!" and "Duke! Come back! I love you!" because sometimes you have to try both angles. My response to the thing: "Goddammit! This is all Bruce's fault!"

In my mind, it was all his fault. Where I should have been; where I wanted to be at least, was with him. Had I been there, had he still wanted me around, I would have been. Instead I was drunk on a porch, fucking everything up by letting a black cat prone to having seizures escape in the middle of the night.

For awhile it was one of our favorite jokes. Any time something went wrong that was obviously of our own doing, we'd just blame him instead. "This is all Bruce's fault!"

Eventually so much time passes that you'd feel like an idiot for even asking how he's doing. Everyone's forgotten except you. And maybe him. Maybe he hasn't forgotten but you doubt that. The more time goes by, the more you think you might have imagined the whole thing anyway. Only Penny will still work him into conversations. She doesn't make you ask. She just knows somehow that after all this time you're still curious.

Even though it all blew up in your face so quickly, you can't help but compare the rapport you have with every other guy to the one you had with him. Now you've seen how you can hit it off with someone. Immediately. Easily. Because of that, everyone since then has been a spectacular disappointment.

And so it goes on like this for awhile. He keeps making fun of himself yet asks, "Are you making fun of me?"

I shrug.

"If you don't make fun of me, I don't have a witty comeback."

"I'm not going to make fun of you."

"Shit..."

"You're really out of your element, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

At some point he says, "Now, I'm a loner. I don't want you calling me every day. (Imitates girl voice) "Hey. Hey, how's it going? What's up?"

"Yeah, I won't call you. That's not my style. I'm low maintenance."

And then I realize I've left my card at the bar and tell him. "That doesn't sound low maintenance. That sounds high maintenance."

Eye roll. Call Penny and Jayne and leave messages.Leslie calls. I ask her to do me a huge favor and go back to the bar and close out my tab. While I'm talking to Leslie, he goes outside to smoke and Dillon Markham harasses him about the same thing I have. "Why don't you make certain drinks?"

"Because I'm a bartender, not THE bartender and if I don't want to, that's that."

I say, "Dillon, you're not going to win this debate with him. He's good. I've already tried."

We go back in the house and Meg asks us if we want a room.

He says, "Do you think she really could get us a room?"

"I can't believe we're making out against the fucking radiator at Landing House when we both have houses. I'm good to drive. Let's go."

He wants to go to my house but as we're driving down 8th Street he changes his mind and wants me to take him to his place. We go to his house and he gives me directions to his room in the dark while he follows behind me.

"Where are you taking me? Am I going to end up buried in your backyard?"

"Nope. Keep going. Keep going. Turn right. Up the stairs. Up. Yeah. Just go straight."

He knocks over his radio and curses himself. "This is my favorite thing!"

As soon as we get to his room, Penny calls and says she hasn't listened to her voicemail yet.

"Oh, yeah. That was just me being a dumbass. I left my card at the bar. Leslie got it for me."

"Oh good. So how was your night?

"Um...no."

She laughs. Bruce raises his eyebrows. "Do you still want to wake up for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah, it'll be fine. I have to be awake anyway to leave by 11."

"Okay! Have a good night! Bye!"

Bruce: "Why is Penny being so nosy!?"

He asks me if I want a drink and I say that water would be perfect. He brings it to me in a wine glass and apologizes for the state of everything and that there aren't clean regular glasses. "I would have cleaned up if I'd known I'd be entertaining."

"I would have shaved my legs if I'd have known I'd be entertaining."

He laughs. "Now that is awesome!"

I don't remember wasting any time stripping down to skivvies. He looks over at me. "This doesn't happen very often. I'm...confused about you being here. I gotta go figure this out."

He goes to the bathroom. Comes back. Looks surprised that I'm still there.

"Did you figure anything out?"

"Not really."

And then he plays my game. MY game. To ask people to tell you something about themselves that you don't already know. When you've just met, it should be easy. It could be anything. Yet most people can't do it; they get uncomfortable. They say they don't know. But he asks me. So I tell him I was a Fine Arts major; I draw and paint. Huh, really? He says, now I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone. I'm serious. I've never told anybody this. And he tells me____________________. I stared at him. He says, "That's true."

"Wow. I don't know what to say."

"Now yours was all happy and bubblegum. Mine was miserable."

"Oh, I've got miserable for you if you want to keep playing."

"No, that's okay."

We ascertain that my right butt cheek is ticklish but not my left. That I have extremely cold hands and feet. He's ticklish on his sides. He says, "Whatever you do, don't tell Penny I'm ticklish. And especially don't tell her I'm charming."

"Yeah, no one would believe it anyway."

"Or maybe tell her I'm an asshole and no one will believe that because I'm so charming."

We joke about what I actually will tell Penny tomorrow at breakfast. "Just tell Penny to shut up."

"Maybe then they'll think I killed you and am channeling your spirit."

He tells me he likes me. I tell him I like him too. That I hadn't really known what to expect but he was actually better than I thought he'd be. He says, "See? Now you know. When people are saying, "Why's that guy walking around like he's the shit?" It's because I am the shit."

He tells me he's not an asshole. He's just bored. At one point I have my head on his shoulder, and he says, "Wow. You really are digging me. And I like you. And that's...that scares me."

Fast forward till now. I've seen him once since then and haven't talked to him since that time. And it hurts. To be ditched because there's no chemistry or because you have nothing in common is understandable and even welcome. But this is incomprehensible. There was a genuine connection. Right?

We get in the house. People try and get us in on some flippy cup game. I decline. He gets us both cups. More talking. He asks me why all my friends are gay. He tells Clinton he's going to call him Clint whether he likes it or not. He laughs at some kid who falls down the stairs while chasing the cat. He literally picks me up and moves me out of the way when some guys start fighting on the stairs. He asks me if Justin Grant is my boyfriend. He warns me he really is an asshole. I say that I'm a bad person, okay? Okay. So we've all been warned.

The first kiss.

We're standing by the kitchen counter and we both stop talking. I was looking up at  him, hesitated, and BAM.

Then lots of making out against the radiator. At some point I attempt to get us to sit down in the kitchen chairs, but they're really uncomfortable. Every once in awhile we catch one of our names.

"Ah...you know what they're saying? They're saying, 'What's she doing here with that old guy?"

"That's not what they're saying, Bruce. They're saying, 'What's she doing here with that asshole!?"

He laughs. We've been going back and forth all night between regular conversation and warnings I've had about his tendency to be an asshole and even though he's even warned me himself, he has a lot of questions.

"Who told you I'm an asshole? Did Penny tell you I'm an asshole? Did Gene tell you I'm an asshole?"

"I'm not telling you who. Stop trying. It was more like a general "blech" when people found out out I had a crush on you. Like, "Bruce? Blech!"

"Blech!? People said 'Blech"!?

"Blech. People said, 'Blech."

I tell him I like him too much to just do the business and then leave town. He's actually fine with it. He's confused about why I'd have a crush on him in the first place.

"Well. I didn't really know what to expect. I only talked to you twice. The crush was somewhat irrational."

"I could tell you were into me. And I heard from so many different people."

"I just said, "I like that one."

"What!? That doesn't make any sense."

"I said it was irrational. I thought you probably weren't an asshole, but I didn't know you'd be charming. Chivalrous even."

He had told me he liked me. "I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow. Just  stay. They never do anything important the first day anyway."

I start laughing.

"What?"

"Remember when we tried to sit down and it didn't work out?"

"Alright. I'll go to Landing House with you. On one condition. They better have beer there."

What kind of a house party doesn't have a keg? I say I'm sure they'll have beer there but I actually call someone and make sure. Yes, they have beer.

At some point he stops talking and is staring at me. He tells me he just noticed I had really beautiful eyelashes. Another time I catch him staring and ask him if we're having a staring contest. "I'll probably lose that too." We stare. I can't help it; I look away smiling every time.

He asks me if I'm crazy.

"Crazy!? Who said I was crazy!?"

"I'm just asking. Are you crazy?"

"That's an...abrasive adjective.  Try for quirky, yet cute."

"That's not the same as crazy."

"I'm not crazy."

At some point I lose my train of thought while looking up at him. "I...got distracted."

"I know. It's the blue eyes, right?"

Yeah. Probably. I tell him Landing House does in fact have beer. I'm ready whenever you are. He says he's going outside to smoke a cigarette and then we'll go. The girls give me looks. I hate it that Nicole can ready my mind.

I get my coat and we go. We start walking to my car which is at the intersection and across the street. He says, "Are we walking!?"

"No. Just to my car. You do have to walk me to it."

"Oh. You just can't turn around and pick me up?"

"Nope. You have to walk me there."

"Oh. You can't blame a guy for trying."

I have to move a box filled with shit so he can sit down. And by shit I mean NASCAR memorabilia I got for Christmas, all of which is going directly into storage. And much as I do like NASCAR, I just don't need any more shit. I explain that my dad's wife got me all this with the disclaimer, "We don't really know you that well."

He makes fun of that a little, as well as the general state of the van. That I'm even driving a mini-van for one thing.

I say, "Notice how there's no dashboard."

"Good point. Is this thing stolen!?"

I have to do some de-parallel parking. He encourages me to hit the truck in front of me if I have to. Their bumper is ridiculous and in no way could I do any damage. I pull up to the stoplight.

He says, "You know what the cool thing is about turning right on red, don't you?"

I tell him to shut up.

We park in a lot a few houses down from Landing House. Something about pet peeves. I ask him what his are. He says when people try to talk about sports they know nothing about.

"Sweet. So I passed that test."

He asks me something about what I'm going to school for and immediately responds with, "You have to go to school for that!?"

Which is my opportunity to explain MY pet peeve. You don't ask someone why a degree is required in such a way as to make yourself look ignorant and judgmental all at the same time. But in any case, we've arrived, so the matter is dropped.

I had a crush on him since August. Talked to him twice in one weekend and then not again the rest of the semester. That first weekend: A Friday night Pirates vs. Ninjas themed house party. Saturday night at the bar. I’d see him Fridays when I was in town but we never talked. I did tell everyone I knew that I had a crush on him, hoping and knowing it would probably eventually get back to him.

My last weekend back home before leaving for grad school: Friday night Leslie tries to order us two dirty martinis. He refuses. Innocently, I ask, “Why don’t you want to learn how to make them?” Angrily, he grabs the shakers. “I know how to make them. I just don’t want to. Fine. I’m breaking my rule.” And he made them. Play to his ego. Smart.

Next night.

Leslie and I go out for sushi and when we get back to town, she goes to a work birthday party and I go to the bar to meet Andy, Jack, and Marion.

In any case, he’s there on his night off, drinking at the bar. Jack asks me to get him a beer since his tab’s already closed out. I go up next to him. Probably I said hi. Or he did. I said I didn’t want him to hear my drink order because he’d make fun of it. I order a dirty PBR and a coke.

Jayne: Just a coke?

Me: Yeah. Just a coke.

J: Lame.

He must say something but I don’t remember what. I get defensive. “I have to drive.”

“Tonight?”

“Well, I am driving tonight. But I mean, in the morning. I have to drive.”

“A coke.  Really?”

“Yeah.  Well. Some nights you have dirty martinis and blackouts and some nights you drink coke. Cheers!”

I go back to my people. I invite them to breakfast and then say I need to go back up to the bar to ask Penny if it’s okay if they come too.  So I go up a second time. He asks me if I changed my mind about the drinking. I say no. He asks if I’ll take a shot with him. On cue, two shots named after his eyes arrive. He says it’s a wussy shot. We take the shots. I do notice for maybe the first time how light blue his eyes are. He says that the grenadine at the bottom symbolizes how his are almost always bloodshot.

I go back to the table. They want to know what’s going on. I shrug. “He bought me a shot.” Jack makes dry heaving motions into his glass. They stay a bit longer but not too much longer.

Then it’s awkward. I want to stay but it’s gotten busy and there aren’t any spots open at the bar. I text Leslie, trying to get her there.  (No go.) I call Theo because Gene had told me about a house party. I try to get them to come to the bar instead. (No go.) I go back to the table and sit by myself.  Joe Jeffers joins me. I ask him if he knows anyone else there.  He says, “Just Bruce.” In the meantime, magically, the bar has opened up, and so I say, “Well. Let’s go to talk to Bruce.” And so I proceed to talk to Bruce and ignore Joe.  (Sorry)

Bruce buys me another shot.

I say, “Here’s the thing. I’m here. But I have to meet up with some people at Landing House at some point. You can come with me. Or not. But just so you know, I can’t drink too much. That’s my plan.”

“It’s only [whatever] time. Blah, blah, you’ll stay and talk till then and you’ll be fine.”

The third shot. He tells me to pick it. I tell Jayne I don’t care what it is. You guys pick. They make us something and set out five glasses. He says, “I’m not paying for his!” (Joe) The girls laugh and tell him not to worry about it.

We talk about a lot of stuff. He dropped out of school when he was 21. He doesn’t explain and I don’t press. He says it sounded a lot cooler when he was 21 anyway.

He asks me if I like football. I hesitate. “Football isn’t really one of the sports I follow too well. My sport is NASCAR.”

“I…did not…expect you to say that. Uh…well, I don’t personally like it that much, but I know enough about it I can talk about it. So who’s your driver?”

“Dale Earnhardt Jr.”

“Yeah.  Every woman I’ve ever talked to that’s liked NASCAR…He’s been her driver.”

I defend NASCAR, saying it’s the only sport people think they can identify the fans just by looking at them.

“That’s because they’ve usually got a #3 tattooed somewhere. Where’s yours?”

“Tramp stamp. Duh.”

And so there is some long talk about how NASCAR is actually an interesting sport because it’s the only one that’s not abstract (no dribbling and passing balls through hoops or through nets or across lines.) It’s road rage and it's individual. It’s something Americans can relate to.

“Wow. That is…a stretch. And I don’t really empathize with road rage.”

“But can you understand the individualist aspect of the sport?”

Blank stare.

“Ok. So what’s your favorite football team?”

“The Browns.”

“So you like the Browns no matter who the quarterback is or who the coach is. You’re a Browns fan. The individuals involved don’t matter. They change over time. No matter who retires or gets traded, you remain a Browns fan. Well. NASCAR is not like that. You pick one driver and you follow them throughout their career and the team and the ownership and the number and the sponsors…All those are arbitrary. It’s about that one  guy.”

At some point he’s yelling about something and I yell back.

“Bruce! I agree with you. Why are you yelling!? We’re on the same page on this. “

He’s amused and surprised and all three bartenders laugh knowingly.

Orang-orang kerap berkata bahwa mereka jatuh cinta pada pandangan pertama. Bagiku, itu tak mungkin. Baru sekejap kau melihatnya, dan kau sudah jatuh cinta? Mustahil.

Lalu aku pun bertemu dengannya...

Tidak. Aku tidak jatuh cinta pada pandangan pertama dengannya. Pendapatku mengenai itu masih sama. Itu terlalu cepat. Denganmu... aku jatuh cinta pada pandangan keempat.

Tak kusangka akan secepat itu ternyata... Kupikir, cinta akan butuh waktu lebih lama. Tapi mana kutahu kalau belum kurasa? Ternyata aku hanya butuh sejentik momen. Sejentik momen untuk jatuh...

Aku bahkan tak yakin sempat memandangmu pada jumpa pertama... Aku hanya teringat sepotong percakapan yang terjadi. Wajahmu pun hilang di tengah ingatan yang memang tak kuusahakan untuk kusimpan.

Kita sudah harus saling mengingat pada jumpa kedua. Sejumput ketertarikan muncul. Mulai kusadari bahwa kau memiliki fisik yang cukup menarik. Walau ketertarikanku saat itu hanya sebatas itu. Tak lebih.

Jumpa ketiga adalah titik percabangan besar dalam hidupku. Satu kalimat spontan darimu, mengubah segalanya... Aku tak lagi mampu melihatmu dengan cara yang sama. Dengan kata-kata sederhana, kau mengisi penuh energi aktivasi yang kubutuhkan untuk jatuh cinta. Tepat penuh di titik puncak. Tapi aku menahannya. Tak kubiarkan diriku jatuh begitu saja. Aku menekan tombol penghenti waktu di hatiku. Kulindungi diriku darimu. Tak rela aku membiarkanmu mendorongku jatuh. Aku mengagumimu pada pandangan ketiga. Cukup kagum saja. Tak boleh kurasa lebih.

Aku berusaha mengontrol perasaanku... Tapi kita memang harus terus bertemu. Karenanya, jumpa keempat pun tak terhindarkan...

Aku tak pernah tahu apakah takdir atau rekayasa semata, hingga kau duduk di sisiku hari itu. Tak ada intensi dariku untuk mengambil resiko. Andai aku tahu... Matamu yang mengilat, menyorot jauh ke arah matahari yang terbenam. Bibirmu yang indah, menenggak air, dan memuntahkan suara yang dalam. Aku tersihir menyaksikan semua itu. Tak lagi kuingat kata-kata yang meluncur dari mulutmu saat itu. Tapi, hari itu kutahu, pertahananku runtuh sudah. Kau berhasil mendorongku jatuh dari puncak... Menjalankan kembali waktu yang telah kuhentikan.

I wish I knew for sure that he doesn't still think about me.  I wish that being alone didn't bother me so much. Some days I can

not

believe

that I haven't had a boyfriend in over eight years.  My entire twenties.  How is that possible? Eight Thanksgivings.  Eight birthdays.  Eight Christmases. Eight Valentine's days.  Eight summers when I would have really liked someone to watch fireworks and lightning bugs with. 

Really?

No one wanted that with me? But they wanted it with Ashley or Elizabeth or Taylor?

I know I get wrapped up in fantasies, but I think about real guys too.  And no one's thinking about me? How is that possible?

When I can beat you at bowling or MarioKart and have a MLS and am well read and funny and know who Nate Robinson is and why his dunks are impressive and think that the best Valentine's Day date would be to stay home, order pizza and drink beer (or maybe Diet Coke) and watch the NBA Allstar game. (It doesn't actually fall on Valentine's Day weekend this year, but that's not the point.)