her epiphany

I had to take a bit of a break from blogging. Too many things happening at once, clouding my mind.

There were some funny stories, anecdotes. A year ago each and every one of them would've made it to this blog. The post would've been ten thousand words long and in dire need of some editing TLC.

And now, here we are, approaching 2006, and what am I doing? Telling one-liners with no punch lines...


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I will tell you this one story, to give you an idea of the "magical realism" invading my life as of late.

Nicole is a girl I went to high school with, and we were always acquaintances. Not friends. I barely knew her through mutual friends but we never hung out or talked to each other on our own.

This past summer, she and I met up with each other via e-mails. We agreed to meet for drinks somewhere in Burbank. We talked and talked, and Nicole began to tell me things about her life-- deep, personal things that floored me. She didn't have to tell me any of it, she just volunteered it.

To even the balance, I shared with her many of my own demons. She was just as shocked to hear my stories as I was shocked to hear hers. We marveled at how much we had in common, how we could've definitely been better friends in high school if we had only bothered to stop and recognize the other.

We walked to her place. I spent the night.

The weeks following our rendezvous were strange. I visited her once again, and a repeat was in order. Then, she suddenly became very busy and I heard from her less and less. All the while I was wondering what was going to happen-- it had only been three months since I decided to start "living in the moment" and I was already confused. Where is this going? What does this mean for us? Is this something that I want, or is this just something I'm enjoying for now?

The last time we got together was for a concert. She informed me that she quit drinking and went on some medication for her mood swings. I felt an odd sympathy for her, but at the same time I knew that she was also sizing me up, to see if I was just trying to "tap that ass" again. I've been a guy all of my life-- I know when a girl is trying to guess my intentions.

I think I did a good job of straddling the fence in regards to Nicole: I knew that any weirdness she was directing towards me was not intended to hurt me. Judging from the things she told me that night at the bar, Nicole had some major guilt issues, most of them involving her relationship with her former husband. I tried not to take her evasiveness and instability as anything personal, but I'd had enough of feeling like I had to walk on eggshells... so I called her and left a drunk message on her voice mail wondering what I did that was so wrong.

This prompted an irritated reply from her, which confirmed what I felt about her dealing with her issues. I apologized for being so bitchy and told her that she could call me any time to discuss anything on her mind.

She told me that there was nothing I could do, and I agreed.


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Last Tuesday, I had a case of what Dave Chappelle affectionately termed "mudbutt" on his short-lived TV show. I must have eaten something pretty rancid, because my bowels were surrendering to the forces of bacteria quite profusely.

As I reclined on my couch that night, recovering from a fever and near-dehydration from the plentiful amount of bathroom visits I'd made that day, the telephone rang.

I picked it up.

"Hello?"

"James."

"Nicole. How are you?"

"Good, real good. How are you?"

"Oh, man... I think I got food poisoning. You don't wanna know how bad."

We exchanged small talk formalities, and then she said:

"Something happened to me yesterday that I wanted to share with you."

"Oh... okay, shoot."

"Well, as you know, I am crazy. I know, you say I'm not crazy, but I feel crazy. I can admit it. Anyway, I just couldn't take another day of going in to work-- I felt positively suicidal. I couldn't deal. So I called in sick and I drove out to the Santa Monica Third Street Promenade. I wandered a round a bit, aimlessly, just trying to clear my head.

"At one point I sat down and read my book. Then I heard a familiar voice call my name. When I turned around, it was him."

"Him who?" I asked.

"My ex-husband. Of all the places in the world to run into him... Anyway, we started to talk, and he suggested we get some coffee and sit down and play Catch-Up. So we did. James, I cannot express enough-- I feel like such a different person now that I've talked with him."

"Wow. What did you two talk about?"

"Basically, I brought up the fact that I cheated on him, and... he said he forgave me for that a long time ago. And it was like, suddenly, a weight lifted from off of my shoulders. I needed to hear that from him, you know? I've been beating myself up for it for so long, and I was running away from it and at the same time I knew it had to do with my guilt..."

"And now you have closure."

"Oh yes, definite closure. I have confidence again. I can lift my head up and feel proud to be who I am. I never realized how much this whole thing affected me until I saw him again. And don't get me wrong-- we're not getting back together or anything like that... but I'm no longer ashamed of myself. I know it sounds weird-- I shouldn't have to base my feelings upon what he thinks. But I know I hurt him so badly, and I just wanted to make sure he was okay about it, and not knowing tore me up inside..."

"I know, I know. I've been there, believe me!"

"I know. And that's why I'm calling you, to share this with you. I didn't think you understood what I was going through... but you did. You understood more than I thought. I am sorry if I ever doubted your intentions. It's just been so crazy lately, and... well, I was a bit confused about everything."

"So was I. I'm not any different. But I also knew that whatever you were feeling had to do with the things you told me before we slept together. I just feel bad for letting it get to me, but then again that was my point-- if you think you're crazy, then I'm a fucking loon! The only difference between us is that you're getting treatment for your neuroses. And I have to admit that I was a little insulted, but that's because I thought you reckoned me for a player."

"I didn't think you were a player. But I did trip out on the whole thing. And I'm sorry if I've been acting crazy."

"Once again, stop with the crazy talk. You're not crazy-- you're just human, that's all."


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We talked for a bit longer, and then she had to get off the phone. And as I hung up, I thought about how everything seemed to work out for the right reasons, even if there was a rough patch along the way for a second.

As I age, I guess that I'm getting a bit better at handling life's twists and turns. Not that I make wise decisions-- I still manage to stumble into things inadvertantly, unexpectedly, almost accidentally. But I'm learning how to navigate my way out of it much quicker.

And hearing about Nicole's epiphany-- and thinking about how unlikely it is to see an ex-spouse standing on a street corner after six years' time --I began to wonder about my role in this world. I began to think not in terms of why I am here but in terms of what I have been sent here to accomplish.

I was totally happy to hear that Nicole found some answers to her personal questions, because I had serious concern for her well-being. I did understand what she was feeling very well. Sometimes you don't want to hear the platitudes, the "everything-will-be-alrights" and all that hi-falutin' jazz.

Sometimes you just wish you were dead and that's the end of it. And nothing that anyone can say will make you feel better. So I didn't tell her any of that-- instead, I told her what was on my mind, because that's all that mattered.

I didn't want to call her bluff, for fear that she would call mine and hurt herself. But I didn't want to "save" her either. We all know how good I am at that.

I'm not insinuating that I had anything to do with her encounter with her ex-husband. But I do feel better knowing that maybe our short summer fling might have pushed her in an alternate direction, one that led her down the path to this epiphany. I'd rather feel like I helped her rather than feel like I only added to her misery.

I felt guilty after the second time we hooked up, because I felt like I was taking advantage of a vulnerable woman who was looking for something to get her through the night. Then, when I felt like I was the one who had been used, that's when I realized that my guilt had nothing to do with what she was going through. Fuck me and fuck my narcissistic brand of guilt-- Nicole was hurting, and all I could think about was my feelings?

Anyway, I don't know where this leaves us, but I think right now it's best to just be friends. She's going to need one, and so will I.


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PS: My attack of "mudbutt" finally subsided around Friday of last week...