A New Relationship Does NOT Fix A Broken Heart

Lately, I haven't written much about Leah.  This makes sense, as Jen has quickly taken a major place in my life.  Leah is "past", Jen is "present".  It is always easier to move on from a broken heart if you have some place to move to.  

But, this doesn't change what Leah did, and it doesn't change the fact that she managed to play me for three years.  This doesn't change the fact that I am fully capable of being hurt.  

Jen doesn't feel ready to meet my kids, and given that all they have had to deal with with women in my life, she is cautious.  Heck, even now she doesn't want us to refer to ourselves as "boyfriend" and "girlfriend".  These are all good things, and make me feel that Jen is a step in the right direction.  But this is Jen, this doesn't correct the fact that people like Leah were able to manipulate me.  

I don't like cooking.  I don't like housekeeping.  There are a million things I would rather do than think of dinner on a given night.  I am behind on my food shopping, by the way: the last food shopping trips worked very well, but we must get back to that. And the living room needs some serious tidying.  

Three times, women convinced me to let them move in with me by promising me cooked meals.  That does sound silly, doesn't it?  Yet, there it is!  Promises of cooked meals, promises of not having to deal with housekeeping.  In one of those cases, at a time when I felt like I was "doing it all", promises of actual help with my kids.  Those promises made me a willing sucker.  The worst part is that my kids are preparing to be victims of this in their future.  Whether Jen was in my life or I was alone, I can't lose track of the fact that I need to close that gap.  We need to prepare our own meals until it becomes a habit, something we "just do" even if we don't like it.  I need to stay on the kids' backs about tidying up after themselves, and I need to make sure I do so too.  

Leah used me and hurt me, but what is the point of all of that if I don't learn something from it?  And learning something is not "find another lover".  

Is this a "Rebound" relationship?

Tonight is my second date with Jen.  Jen will be getting a room and the two of us will be spending the night together.  This will be the third time in as many weeks that we have been able to see each other.  We met at a party on one week, we went out on a date the next week, and now we will be spending the night together.  When we haven’t been physically together, we communicate a lot – e-mails, text messages, IM conversations, and even Facebook and Fetlife postings. 

Let’s not forget that the party where I met her was literally one month after Leah had moved out.  Does that make this a “rebound” relationship?  Of course it is, although I would point out that waiting a whole month before starting a new relationship is actually pretty good for me. 

So what is the problem with “rebound” relationships?  Is it that I’m not “over” the other person?  So, am I “over” Leah?  What exactly does that mean? 

Leah might have an “on/off” switch that shut down her feelings for me.  I don’t actually know.  I know that I don’t have something like that.  At times, I wish I did.  What I do have is a brain that zips back in time and goes through memories in hyper-detail, coming up with tons of connections and patterns.  With Leah’s behavior the last few months together and the last week together, followed by the fact that I realized that I was not feeling a huge gaping emptiness with her departure . . . I took the time to look back at our relationship.  With her not there to manipulate me 24/7, I saw patterns, and I realized things about our relationship.  Things started making sense.  I might not be “over” her, but I most certainly don’t want her back. 

It seems to me, then, that there is more to the danger of “rebound” relationships.  It seems to me that a big danger is defining the person in terms of the “ex”: she has these characteristics that are the same as my ex, but she has these other characteristics that are quite different.  I know I did some of this: Jen is older than Leah; Jen has an established career and lives on her own.  The key, though, is that Jen is her own person.  I believe I appreciate her as herself, and not as “someone that is very different from Leah”.  This is something time will tell, however. 

My last “rebound” relationship was Leah.  Where other women knew to avoid someone that had just come off a nasty breakup, Leah did the exact opposite: she actually pressured me to date her.  Leah defined herself as “not the woman with whom I had broken up”.  The irony, I realize now that we are apart, is that she had a LOT in common with her (for example, both of them were willing to say or do anything in order to convince me to let her move in).  One thing she did not have in common with my previous lover is passion.  I went from a very passionate relationship to one with no passion at all.  And, in true “rebound” fashion, I reasoned that “perhaps the lack of passion is what I needed”. 

Can I say that it’s different with Jen?  Did a whole month apart, realizing what a mess my relationship with Leah had been, “fix” things in my head and my heart?  Is the fact that Jen and I are taking things slowly (we won’t even call each other boyfriend/girlfriend yet) making the difference?  I could answer these questions, but . . . these are things that must be answered later, when looking back at this time.  And, hopefully, she and I will be looking back at this time together.

An emotional reaction

Going to see Black Swan last night brought out an emotional reaction.  At the end of the movie, I found myself crying.  It wasn’t the movie.  It was watching the ballet dancers, and it hit me that I will never be able to do that.  Sure, maybe Viviana will have ballet lessons and maybe I will take them, but I’m almost 43 years old . . . let’s be realistic about what I can accomplish!  The dance numbers in “Godspell” almost killed me (I was in pain through many of them) . . . I will never be able to credibly dance something like “Swan Lake”. 

Rumor has it that some people really like my voice.  Some people, over the years, hear my voice and can’t believe that I can’t sing.  Yet, there it is.  I’m only now taking my first voice lessons.  I was a kid once: why didn’t I have voice lessons then?  I get frustrated trying to sing: it’s like there is something that everyone else can hear but I can’t.  I never learned to play a musical instrument.  Didn’t my parents notice how much I loved music?  They sure as heck grimaced when I said I wanted to watch an opera on TV: they sure as heck noticed that.  Dance lessons?  Maybe back then I would have resisted, but a few years ago I realized that I really love dance.  I’m struggling with tap right now, watching the young people pick up steps quickly.  I keep going, I keep trying, but it’s frustrating.  I wish I had tap lessons when I was young.  I wish I had taken ballet. 

Hey, I loved to draw and I was quite good at it.  I loved to act and get on stage.  I loved to write and, again, rumor was that I was quite good at it.  I won awards for my drawings.  I won awards for my writing.  What did my parents say?  I was lucky if I got an “oh, that’s nice”.  They never came to those “talent shows” at school.  They never heard the applauses I would get.  Before he died, my father said that he regretted that he never took me to an art school.  Gee, I’m so glad he finally came to that realization, 30 years too late. 

All the pieces of paper lying around with drawings and sketches . . . didn’t he notice?  Didn’t he care?  My dream of making a movie . . . that was something he (as well as the rest of my family) would use to tease me and make fun of me.  Didn’t he notice that I loved movies?  Would it shock him that, decades later, I still dream of making movies?  Didn’t he care?  I look at theatre groups like Viviana and the youth oriented classes at Hedgerow, and I ask: did things like this magically spring into being recently, in time for my kids?  I am envious: my parents never thought about finding things like this for me when I was young. 

I was clever and I was going to go to medical school and I was going to be a doctor.  THAT is what they cared about.  My father could brag about that.  And bragging rights among the other parents was all he cared about.  When I wanted to listen to a classical music piece or watch an opera, he would call it “noise” and scoff . . . but sitting around the other parents, he bragged about how his son has such tastes.  Being clever was a trap.  When I think back to my childhood, I remember tons and tons of people that wanted me to go in to their area, because Animesh would bring them glory.  Forgive me if I am cynical right now: I can only look back at that and see that I was used.  My job was to go to medical school and be a doctor, and no one cared about anything beyond that. 

Review: "Black Swan"

So, what did I think of “Black Swan”?  I really enjoyed it, but I felt like I should have loved it.  If I removed the wonderful ballet ending, I felt as though its cracks started to show, and they were major cracks. 

One request, though.  I love Natalie Portman.  I want Natalie Portman.  I need Natalie Portman.  But . . . um . . . has Natalie Portman never masturbated?  The points where she was masturbating seemed very unconvincing.  I was rolling my eyes the first time, like “oh come on!”

Another request: kill the special effects.  This movie had a really talented cast and a setting that was intense and beautiful.  I didn’t need to see a room full of paintings with their eyes moving.  I felt like that cheapened the moment.  I am torn regarding Natalie Portman turning into a swan.  On the one hand, we saw already, just in the quality of the performance, that something had changed, the “Black Swan” had taken hold.  We saw that just in the acting, so we didn’t need special effects.  On the other hand, the transformation was incorporated into the dance, and that worked really well. 

Third request: STOP SHAKING THE GODDAMN CAMERA! 

My real problem with the movie was that it felt like a nightmare sequence, but not in a good way.  In a nightmare, images shift all over the place.  Why did I suddenly see a goat here?  Who knows?  Why is it raining?  It just is.  Why is it suddenly not raining?  It just is.  That’s how nightmares work.  There were several themes at work here.  What was the deal with Milla Kunis’ character?  Was she, indeed, her rival and was trying to take the part from her?  The ballet dancer that retired and disfigured herself?  The lecherous director?  The overbearing and creepy mother?  Natalie Portman disfiguring herself?  There were a bunch of these themes, and we got glimpses into them and then . . . nothing.  None of them were developed, so it felt like these were all passed under the banner of “Natalie Portman is nuts”.  This movie deserved better than that. 

I hope that the footage that develops these themes is sitting somewhere, and that we will have a “Director’s Cut” DVD that knocks our socks off.  This movie should have been 2 hours, and I came away feeling as though it had been hacked to fit in 1 ½ hours. 

Let's talk about Jen

Much to my surprise (well, not really) there was a surprising amount of interest in my date on Saturday night.  So, let's talk about Jen. :-)  I went to a party the previous Saturday, and that was where I met her.  We sat at the bar and chatted for a while.  I found her attractive, but I especially liked her fashion sense.  She dressed like a combination bohemian, rogue, belly-dancer, and pirate . . . and it worked!  She lives in New York City, so perhaps that shouldn't surprise me.  Before I left, we exchanged some contact information, and then started e-mailing over the next few days. 

And then we started talking on the phone.  I had forgotten how much I enjoyed those late-night laying in bed phone conversations!  And yes, she responded very nicely to my voice.  We were enjoying each other's company, which is something else I had forgotten.  So, she mentioned: she was coming down to Reading the next weekend.  Could we get together for dinner or some-such?  Before we knew it, I called it a "date" . . . and she responded well to that! 

I know I am an acquired taste with women.  Not every woman finds me attractive.  I've met with women that were incredibly interested in e-mail, but upon meeting me quickly suggested that we just be friends.  I reminded myself that Jen and I had already met at the party . . . but then I remembered that the lights were dim.  I know these sorts of anxieties are silly, but they are what they are.

So, we met at a mall for a few hours of roaming-and-talking, and a linner/dunch.  It didn't take long before we were kissing.  It didn't take long before we had our arms around each other.  I am very tactile -- I like to touch, I like to kiss -- and while she had some anxieties about that, she adapted pretty quickly.  And, yes, I thought she was beautiful!  The way she looked at me, I swear she was glowing . . . and I could feel the ear-to-ear smile on my face that never seemed to diminish. 

And the kissing?  We kissed a lot.  I gently rubbed my face into her cheek and then kissed her again.  I kissed her neck, wanting to hear her purr.  And then I looked in her eyes and I looked at her smile.  Anxiety?  Now, where did that go?  This was perfect!

By the way, she revealed at one point that she hadn't been quite honest about her age.  It turned out that she was about ten years older than she had let on.  When she told me this, I had a huge grin on my face: the last few days, I had been thinking that I wished she was older!  Like I said: this was perfect!

Then, we went to a movie.  We chose a movie that didn't particularly interest me: it was good and I did enjoy myself, but it was nothing I thought about seeing.  We spent a LOT of time kissing and touching.  I had my arms around her the entire time, except when she was putting her arms around me and caressing my shoulders.  After the movie, there was the question of if I could go back with her to Reading.  She had a king's size bed in her motel room, after all.  I had to decline: I had an incredibly busy (and rather early) Sunday. 

As I was driving home, I was blasting music and singing along at the top of my lungs.  I was so happy I was laughing.  At the same time, I was kicking myself for declining going with her. 

We spoke on the phone that night.  We spoke the next evening.  "Getting to know each other" should, after all, take a nice and long time. 

She is a speech therapist.  She has an established career and has no intention of leaving New York City.  She is a singer with several bands and sometimes hosts jam sessions.  She told me that if I ever showed up for a jam session, she would find a place for me -- handing me a tambourine or some-such.  We're not talking about getting married and having kids.  She will not be moving in with me!  We're enjoying what we have, and we both appreciate the limitations that distance puts on us.  There are a million directions this might go, but right this moment I have a good feeling about it all. 

Date Night tomorrow?

Last week, I went to a party on Saturday night.  I met a couple of nice people there and we chatted a bit.  There was one woman in particular, with whom I've been chatting regularly since.  We had some of my infamous night-time in-bed conversations.  Yes, reading her a monologue from "Equus" can sound seductive when spoken a certain way.  I feel a bit more of my old self. 

I don't remember seducing Leah.  I don't remember it ever being needed.  When she re-entered my life a year and a half later, she had spent so much time stalking me that "seduction" became "saying 'yes'."  All I can remember for the past three years was being forced to take care of her.  Of dealing with her mental illnesses and her numerous quirks.  I had no energy left to seduce her.  She kept me empty. 

What will happen with this woman?  I'm not making plans.  I just want to hold hands and kiss.  And then I want to go home and sleep in my bed without a new batch of worries and stresses.  I want to enjoy romantic time with a woman and NOT take be forced to care of her. 

Well, tomorrow I'll know for certain if the timing will work.  She really wants to see me, and I really want to see her again. 

Monologues

From "Laramie Project":
"I live in the center of town.  The day of the Homecoming Parade, my leg was in a cast because of a fall.  I was really disappointed because I wanted to walk with the people that were marching for Matthew Shepard, but I couldn't.  So I watched from my window.  And it was . . . it was just . . . I'm 52 years old and I'm gay.  I've lived here a long time and I've seen a lot.  But I was really moved when I saw the tag at the end of the parade.  There were at least 100 people marching behind a banner for Matthew Shepard. 

10 minutes passed and the people marching for Matthew Shepard grew five times.  Five times!  There were over five hundred people marching for Matthew.  Five hundred people!  Can you imagine?  And, I tell you what, I started to cry.  Tears were streaming down my face.  And I thought: thank God I got to see this in my lifetime.  And my second thought was: thank you, Matthew."

From "Angels in America":
"The fountain isn't flowing right now.  They turn it off for the winter: ice in the pipes.  But in the summer, it's a sight to see!  I want to be around to see it.  I plan to be.  I hope to be.  This disease will be the death of many of us, but not nearly all.  And the dead will be commemorated and will struggle on with the living.  And we are not going away.  We will not die secret deaths any more.  The world only spins forward.  We will be citizens.  The time has come. 

Bye now.  You are all fabulous creatures, each and every one of you.  And I bless you: more life.  The great work begins!"