Monday, November 21, 2005

It shouldn't be this hard

My weekend wasn't bad. I didn't do any of the housework/chore type things that need to be done, but I did spend a lot of time relaxing and watching movies.

On Saturday, I got up just in time to take the metro to pick up my "little sister" (not my actual sister). My plan was to take her to the Harry Potter movie and she gave me a big smile when I told her that's where we were heading. We stopped that the new Clyde's at Gallery Place for lunch. The food was…acceptable and the service was fawning. The movie was also enjoyable. I've seen the first one and I found it overlong. I haven't read any of the books and I don't intend to, but this film was good in its own right. There were only one or two things that weren't 100% clear, but there was enough information to infer what they were (for example, exactly what/where is Azkaban? Who/what are the Death Eaters?). I found it enjoyable, though some of the situations were a little threadbare (such as the inept teenage romance plot lines), yet not offensive or boring. The little sister enjoyed it quite a bit. She thinks Harry Potter is cute.

I took her home and walked from her place to Tryst. I found a spot to sit, got a cup of chai (only so-so--it used to be really good) and tried to take a chunk out of the book group book. The book is incredibly long, but it is contemporary and fairly easy to read. I'm going to have to find real time to read it or I won't finish by our next meeting. I don't seem to have the attention needed for novels these days. Wow. I can't believe I wrote that. I've only been devouring novels since I was eight years old. Now, I spend more time reading blogs and writing. Even getting through an article in the New Yorker is a major accomplishment these days.

Spesh called around 6pm to confirm our plans to watch a movie that night. He invited DrJ and C-money, but it wasn't clear if they could make it. We decided to meet at the video store, get something to eat, then go back to his place (he's staying at a friend's near Adams Morgan).

I got to the video store first and hunted around a little, but I knew it would take forever to pick something. Spesh showed up and I picked two things that he didn't reject. I rejected all of his suggestions. I'm such a pain when it comes to movies. Then again, so is he. DrJ called at 7:30 and it turns out that she wasn't going to meet us there, despite what Spesh told me. It was silly complicated, but she found us in time for a quick dinner and the walk back to Spesh's, where C-money met us.

We watched the first dvd, The Rachel Papers. It was a bad but amusing late '80s teen-sex comedy. It was British, so interesting mostly on that score and for the incredibly wooden acting of Ione Skye. (Note: Skye was in Say Anything the same year--one of my favorite teen movies--her acting wasn't any better, but it didn't matter as much since her character was essentially passive in that film.)

DrJ and C-money took off after the first movie. I stuck around to watch the second one, which was so much better than the first that it was almost a crime to watch them in the same sitting. The only thing they had in common was that they were both made in England. Spesh agreed that The Browning Version was very good and he was won over by Michael Redgrave, who I love from The Lady Vanishes. He's so good. There was a special feature on the dvd with an interview with Redgrave and he is impressively thoughtful in his answers about acting technique.

I started to snooze while watching the second film, though. I was still worn out from the emotional turmoil cause by seeing Tim on Thursday and a couple of restless nights. Spesh pulled out the air mattress for me, but it had a fast leak, so I found myself out on U Street at 1:40 am looking for a cab home. Before I left, I told Spesh about my encounter with Tim. He didn't say much, but was clearly concerned.

It was probably best that I spent the night in my own bed, but I still didn't sleep well. On Sunday, I did nothing, which consisted of watching some taped t.v. and reading blogs. I did not clean, cook, put up laundry or pay bills. All of that must happen sometime this week. I headed out around 3:00pm to meet my work friend, MB to catch a movie.

MB and I saw Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. The movie had tons of references to Raymond Chandler novels, all of which I've read, and I enjoyed that. It was a touch too violent for my taste, but I liked the jokey tone of the movie, the quick pacing and needlessly convoluted plot. It completely drew me in and I wondered if I might see it again.

After the movie, I returned a missed call from Spesh. He said, "So, are you going to jump off the bridge?"
"What? Why would I do that?"
"You were kind of low."
"I still am, but I'm not that low. You really don't need to worry about me....but thanks for worrying. I'll be ok."
"Ok. Where are you?"
"I just got out of the movies--I'm here with MB--we're going to get something to eat."
"Ok, well, remember we're going to see Walk the Line on Tuesday--right?"
"Right. Just give me a call and we'll figure it out."

MB and I ate dinner at an uninspired Italian place. I told her about Tim. She knew I'd been dating someone and that we'd broken up, but that was about it. She was astonished by the tale and proved a sympathetic listener. Unfortunately, telling the story made me sad and I lost my appetite. I still haven't fully recovered it.

I don't know why I feel so much worse now than when we first broke up. It's like some kind of delayed reaction. I'd done such a good job of not thinking about him that now, I can't stop thinking about him and I feel terrible. I know it will pass, all I need is a little time.

I'm amazed at the chorus of voices in my life and in the comments that are angry at Tim. Pele said she understood why I wasn't angry at Tim. She was disappointed too, which is my strongest reaction. I even told my Dad what happened (my DAD!) (minus the kissing sequence) and he said that Tim sounds lonely. I said to Dad, "Some say that he's just using the married thing as an excuse...that he's a player."
Dad said, "Well, I suppose that could be true, but I can't believe that is how people really behave."
"I can't either. I mean, I know it must be possible, but I just don't want to live in that world."
I thought I got my "benefit of the doubt" nature from my mom. Kind of nice to know it's equally strong with both parents.

On my walk home from Union Station on Sunday night, I did something I said I wouldn't do. I called Tim. (Please don't be angry with me or tell me it was a big mistake. I don't think I can take it.) All this stuff kept ping-ponging around in my head and it was driving me crazy. Then I thought, "Just stop it. Stop torturing yourself. Call him if you need to. Maybe it will help." I felt much better after I gave myself permission to call. I thought for a while about what I would say and then I called, still with no clear idea of what I wanted to say.

Not surprisingly, it wasn't an entirely satisfactory conversation. He kept asking how I was and what was going on. I kept saying I was fine and that nothing was going on. I told him about going to the movies with the little sister, watching dvds with Spesh and seeing MB. He asked if I was nervous and I said no, I was just walking, "Maybe I am nervous. I guess I wanted to have a conversation with you while I was sober. Look, what were you doing there the other night?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? How can you not know. People seem to think you are a player. Are you a player?"
"I don't know. I'm confused. I don't think I'm a player. But maybe I am."
We changed the subject, but I kept coming back to it and his only answer was, "I'm confused."

Tim's behavior makes it perfectly clear that I should have nothing to do with him. Yet, my heart goes out to him. I want to help him, but there is nothing I can do. There is nothing I should do. I should stay well out of it, and I certainly intend to. However, with all the harm that evening did me, one more phone call did not make things worse. It didn't make things better either--at least not right away. I think, though, it was good for me to talk to him again, to say the things I needed to say. If I need to call him again, I will, but I'm not planning on it. I'm not planning on seeing him. I dearly hope he will figure things out and make the decisions he needs to make to be happy, but I know it has nothing to do with me.

Early this afternoon Spesh called. For two reasons--to check on me and to see if I could make it to the movie tonight instead of Tuesday. I said tonight was fine, but I didn't want to stay out too late, "Although it doesn't really matter since sleeping doesn't seem to be high on my list of priorities these days."
"You're still not sleeping? How are you doing?"
"I'm ok. Better than yesterday."
"Better than the other night?"
"Yes. You know, you don't need to worry about me so much."
"Well...I'm not losing any sleep."
"I'm not losing any sleep over it, so I'm not worrying too much."
"Ok then. Let's try for an early show, ok? Call me when you know."
"I'll talk to you later."

And back to work I went. I've been plugging away at the most tedious task in the world all day and I'm finally getting close to done. Too bad that I should have had it done early last week. Can't win 'em all.

Last, I want to thank you for all the supportive comments. I would respond, but it's too much right now. And, please, don't worry about me. I just need a little more mope time than I thought, but this too shall pass.

Off to see "Walk the Line." That should cheer me up. Heh.

Grateful for: time.

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