deep love

My girl and I have a lot in common.

We both like the same musicians/bands: Beastie Boys, Dead Kennedys, Prince, Guns 'N' Roses, Cypress Hill, David Bowie, Pearl Jam, X, DEVO, Silversun Pickups, The Clash, etc... There are a few disagreements here and there (she loathes Phish, for example, while I find them to be splendid) but they are as I said: few, and far between as well.

We both share the same absurd outlook on life, only she tends to shy away from the label 'absurd'. We also have closet romantic tendencies lurking beneath our cool, steely exteriors. We both have demented senses of humor and enjoy nonsense for nonsense's sake.

We both think that life is beautiful despite the pain and tragedy that befalls everyone. We both see the value of all things great and small, choosing not to merely glance at The Big Picture but instead to stare wildly away at its expansive panoramic vastness.

We both believe in God, even if we aren't textbook Christians in any sense.

And lastly, we both have experienced deep love with someone from our past, and we are both striving to get out from under the shadows those loves cast.


*/*


One of our first nights together was in March of this year, when I invited her back to my apartment in Burbank to watch a movie and eat popcorn. I had no idea what to expect, because as much as I wanted to seduce her in my own idiosyncratic fashion, I also was aware that I was putting too much emphasis on having this evening actually go somewhere for a change.

What I mean is: Instead of just trying to get into her pants, I wanted to get to know her as a person. Too many times I switched gears from 0 to 60 in less than 2 seconds, and even if I got what I thought I wanted I still didn't realize, until much later on, that I had actually short-changed myself.

For you see, if a man is only intent on scoring some action, it doesn't matter if he gets it or not: he loses in the end, because life is full of variables that mix-and-match to complement the outcome of any given event. So, if a man tries to score and succeeds, he may end up never seeing her again after that, which could be a relief if she is horrid-- but then again, what good is scoring with a horrid girl anyway? If it is not a relief to see her fade away into the night, never to return, then he ends up feeling cheated, as if a taste of honey was worse than none at all (to quote from Smokey Robinson).

If he does see her again, is he any more relieved than if he had not seen her again? Hard to say, for maybe that man will end up somewhere down the line not wanting to see her again despite her insistence that they continue seeing each other. If it is not a relief to see her again, then the whole episode was merely an exercise is animal carnality.

In other words, if the man started off from the get-go trying to court the girl instead of fucking her brains out, then by the time the nookie enters the picture he ends up winning.

When March 2007 rolled around, I was tired of losing. So when she showed up at my door at 11 PM on a Friday night, I decided to take the long-term investment and court her instead.


*/*


It wasn't easy.

She told me she was going to change into her pajama bottoms as I placed the DVD into the tray and gently pushed it closed.

This aroused me to no end.

As she walked into the bathroom to slip into something a little more comfortable, I held an informal debate with my good and bad sides, muttering under my breath so as not to give off the impression that I was insane.

"That's the green light, buddy," my bad side said. "Do her! She's asking for it!"

"Now let's be reasonable," my good side said. "Perhaps she feels safe around you, and doesn't fear that you will make any advances upon her. If you cross the line, so to speak, the whole enterprise will be placed in peril."

"Dude, if she feels safe around you, that's bad! You'll end up in the Friend Zone... unless you do something real bad-ass to show her that you've still got a libido!"

"Yes, but you could also end up in the Creep Section, which is worse than the Friend Zone."

"Hey, Good Side... whose side are you on anyway? The boy wants to get laid, for Pete's sake!"

"Funny, I thought he was trying to do things differently. I guess all that talk about getting to know her and having something meaningful for a change was just a lot of game..."

I finally interrupted their exchange. "Wait a minute! Let me decide what to do, okay?"

They both nodded grudgingly.

When she walked out of the bathroom, she was wearing the same outfit except for now she had on candy-striped pajama bottoms. I handed her a bowl of freshly-cooked popcorn and sat down on the love seat.

"Come on over here," I said, motioning to her.


*/*


We talked through the entire movie (Waking Life, I believe it was) not because it was bad but because it sparked much philosophical discussion between us. These discussions lasted well past the ending of the movie, and by the time we we talking about dating life as opposed to waking life it was almost dawn and the DVD menu page was looping over and over due to my unwillingness to interrupt the conversation just to turn the damn DVD player off.

She told me about the love of her life, a boy who was seven years her senior. Back in D.C. he was a local legend: a sponsored skateboarder, an accomplished drummer in a punk rock band, a huge part animal who broke the rules and got away with murder, a military brat who traveled the world and lived in the Middle East for much of his upbringing...

"I will never have a love like that ever again," she said, as she dragged on her cigarette.

"How can you say that?" I asked.

"He was my true love."

Before I could say something cynical to kill the mood, she continued.

"But that doesn't mean I can't have another love that is deeper or greater than that with someone else. I just won't have what I had with him with anyone else, ever again."

This was interesting to me. "I know what you mean," I said. I then told her all about Eve: the two-year-long high school romance, the years spent apart, the reconciliation and troubles that finally broke us apart... I told her how Eve had cut me off and wouldn't take my calls, wouldn't write me back, wouldn't even acknowledge that I was alive...

"That's what I had to do in my case," she said to me. "I had to totally cut him off from my life. And it sucks. I know that. But not a day goes by when I don't think about him. I miss him so much, and I want to call him but I know it's never going to be right. It's just torture if I give in and call him. So even though I am miserable, I have to stand my ground and not fall back into it. The hardest thing in the world is to start again, and I know because I've been there."

"So what you're saying is that you cut him off because it was necessary?"

"Yes. And that's what your ex is doing to you. From what you just told me about her, she probably cares so much about you, and yet it hurts her to be with you. That's exactly what I am feeling in my own life right now. I bet you that she'd love to just take you back and pretend that nothing is wrong, but she probably feels like she has to move on and that there's no way that you two can be together right now. She's not doing it to hurt you-- she's doing it to save herself."

Suddenly, I understood everything that was happening between Eve and I, and I also became very ashamed of my behavior towards her. I was mean and cruel to Eve because I felt like she had hurt me. I called her names, insinuated horrible things about her character, and left her incessant messages demanding that she give me at least one chance to speak my mind.

"Wow, I never thought about it that way. I've been so selfish, not thinking about how much this whole thing has affected her. I'm a scumbag."

"Well, you probably have every right to be upset at her too. Don't forget to own your anger. It's okay to be mad at her for what you feel she did to you, but just remember that it might not be as easy for her as you think. I know my ex is mad as hell and obsessed with me-- hell, he moved from D.C. out here just to be near me, even after I told him it was over. I didn't ask him to do that. I don't blame him for wanting me back, but it just can't work. I can't put up with the drinking, the cheating, the jealousy... it wore me down. This is the way it has to be. And you know what? The last three relationships I had were ruined because I couldn't stop talking about him to my new boyfriends. They got sick of hearing me bring him up. That's how bad it is for me."

I thought of how Eve would tell me about Dick, her ex, and how he hated my guts-- not because of anything I did to him, but because she incessantly brought me up to him when they were together. I also thought of how Eve would bring him up to me, as if to test my patience concerning him.

I also thought of how I often did that to girlfriends, exhuming the ghosts of my romantic past and unwittingly driving them crazy.

And then I felt good. I was glad that she had told me about her true love, and I was glad that she helped me to understand my own situation with what could be considered my own true love.

"Thank you, " I said. "Your story has helped me to finally get it through my head."

I hugged her. She hugged me back.

Both my good and bad sides were equally perplexed.


*/*


Like I said, my girl and I have a lot in common.

Since we met on the last day of February 2007, she and I have taken a long, slow but steady journey into each other's lives, minds and hearts. The courtship ended up being worth every minute of my time, and now she and I have found a love that neither of us has ever experienced before with anyone else.

Just as I will never stop loving Eve, so will she never forget the impact her own version of Eve had on her.

But that does not mean that we are lost, or that we are ruined for others.

No, what it means is that now that we have undergone a deep love affair that failed with someone else, we both have the wisdom and the strength to try it again with someone new.

Not everyone gets that second chance, that rare opportunity to get it right, the way it should've been done the first time.

We've paid our dues. It's time for the both of us to collect on our investments.

love is pain

"Have you ever wanted to join the circus? Now's your chance. The Midnight Ridazz Circus is back in town. Los Angeles' monthly traveling group of clowns will be taking over the streets and showing the city how to have some fun..."


Or so the website promised.

My girl works at a coffee shop in Hollywood where hipsters like Leonard Cohen have been known to stop and get a cup of joe, and among the various regulars that inhabit the shop are people who invite her to participate in activities such as the above-mentioned urban sojourn.

On paper or in theory, these events sound cool. Really cool. However, being the jaded Angeleno that I am, my feelings about such endeavors is as follows:

1) I very rarely get in on the ground floor of anything worth doing early on, and therefore by the time I've heard of things like the midnight bicycle rides they have already reached a critical mass or some sort of peak; in other words, I'm always a tourist or a Johnny-Come-Lately. It's the main reason why I never got around to going to Burning Man: it was just too late for me to get on board that bandwagon.

2) As the word gets around and the buzz grows, these types of events take on a weight of their own. I fear the collective unconscious of the mob in any incarnation, whether it be a rock concert or a Nuremberg rally or a midnight bike run totaling over 1,000 riders... especially in Los Angeles, the birthplace of Road Rage.

In short, I didn't think it was a good idea to ride bicycles at night while dressed up like clowns and pissing off motorists in a city where people live and die by their automobiles.

Don't get me wrong-- it sounded awesome. It probably was awesome the first few times it was accomplished. But it's not a well-kept secret anymore, and the anarchic novelty seemed to have worn off even before I became enamored of it.

But who am I to spoil her fun? She asked me to go, I declined (citing musical obligations and my lack of a working bicycle as reasons) and she went ahead anyway.

I wished her well, told her to drive safe (as I always say to anyone I see driving away from me) and instructed her to call me as soon as she was done or if she decided to change her mind.


*/*


I received a call on my cel phone around a quarter past midnight.

I was busy recording vocals with some friends, and so the phone was turned off. When the session was done, I turned on the phone and heard one of my girl's coffeehouse patrons leaving me a voice message:

"She's OK... she had a nasty fall... very aggressive vibe out here tonight, I think she bit off more than she could chew... we're at the hospital right now... I'll try calling you later and let you know what her status is..."

He didn't leave a callback number. I began to panic. I called around, looking for anyone who might have her friend's phone number. I called her cel phone a few times but no one picked up.

Finally, she answered the phone. She was indeed OK, but she was going to require a few stitches on her chin. When she fell off the bike, she landed face first on the pavement. Her chin was cut wide open, and she had to be forced by her friend to visit the ER at Cedar-Sinai for treatment.

I raced over to the hospital. I was so glad she was alright. But before I left, she said to me over the phone that she hoped this wouldn't ruin our plans for the next day.

It was Friday night, and sometime on Saturday we were supposed to attend my little sister's wedding in Santa Barbara. I was going to introduce my girl to my family for the first time.


*/*


I was late to the ceremony.

I arrived at Butterfly Beach in Montecito just as the vows were finished. I caught the wedding procession as they walked on the sand of the shore.

I saw my niece, the flower girl... she was crying. She is such an emotional little 8 year-old.

I mingled with the guests, most of them close friends and immediate family. I went over to my sister and hugged her and apologized for my lateness. She asked me where my girl was, and I told her (and everyone else repeatedly throughout the evening) the story of her bike accident.

My mother seemed disappointed that my girl was unable to make it. But her disappointment was nothing compared to the complex emotions I was feeling at that moment.

I was angry at my girl for going on the ride and effectively taking herself out of the wedding plans, denying me the chance to show her off to my family.

I was angry at her coffee shop friend for taking her along when she was clearly in over her head-- she didn't even own a bike! The vehicle she crashed on was a loaner, totally not suited to her petite frame.

I was angry at my sister for marrying a man who I disliked, even as I had to grudgingly respect his work ethic and good intentions.

I was just angry, but more than that-- I was confused. And maybe my lateness was an unconscious attempt on my part to somehow gain control over a situation-- no, situations --that went far beyond my grasp.


*/*


The night before I had a strange dream whose meaning was not lost on me.

I dreamed that I was in a church, walking my sister down the aisle... only it wasn't my sister-- it was my girl. And not only that, but I was giving her away, as the father of the bride does in traditional ceremonies.

Who was I giving her away to? Me, of course. I was the groom as well.

I don't think it takes a scholar to interpret the anxious meaning behind that particular dream.


*/*


By the end of the night, I was happy again.

My girl was OK, at home with pain meds in her system; My little sister, whom I helped raise as if she were my own daughter, was ecstatic as the two respective families became one; my mother was happy to see me in attendance, and I had forgotten about the intensity of my irrational emotions earlier in the day.

There are some things in this life that we cannot control, obviously. I have always had a problem relinquishing control of certain things, and this past weekend was the culmination of my deepest fears regarding the important women in my life.

I told my girl about my strange dream, and she found that it wasn't so strange at all.

"I'm your friend, so that's like your sister. And I'm your lover now. Sometimes I'm like your mother, but I'm like a daughter to you also. I can see why you had that dream. It must be hard for you to let go of so much in such a short time."

Here she was, telling me how hard it must be for me... as her wrist was wrapped in a sling and her delicate chin was bandaged and bruised and her body ached from the impact of her dismount.

I hugged her and kissed her head, and whispered, "I'm just glad you weren't seriously hurt. You don't know how badly I freaked out when I got that message. You could've been killed."

"Yeah, but I'm fine now."

"I know... I know..."

I did not let her go. I held her in my arms until we both fell asleep in her bed.