Thursday, January 19, 2006


Dancer Tom and I are just going to be friends. Actually, we have been friends for the last couple of months, but our platonic position was cemented last night. The great thing is, it's mutual. When I saw him at the bar, he looked good, but I didn't want to kiss him. It wasn't the goatee (I normally prefer clean-shaven guys, though he was always attractive with scruff) and it wasn't the fact he was getting over a cold (if chemistry is there, even malaria wouldn't stop me from making out). It wasn't even his unstable career or the fact that he's thinking about leaving New York.

There was no spark, simple as that.

It's a relief, because we're both on the same page. No unrequited lust happening on either side, which is the best-case scenario. Better than if we were drawn to each other, because there would be a lot of problems attempting a relationship. I have had so many frustrations dating men who don't know how to manage their finances and I am so tired of hearing guys complain about their money troubles. Last night, it was horrifying to hear Tom talking about waiting to get a check so he could eat. Mind you, this is a choice he has made by selecting a very unstable profession, instead of getting a gig at an office or in retail or something. I could never live like that. In the meantime, he is one of those people who believes money will bring him lots of happiness and is chasing after a big break that may never come. I've been in a position where I was earning a good amount of money but was deeply unhappy, so I couldn't disagree with him more. There's no way that a padded bank account and material possessions are going to bring fulfillment to your soul. Given the choice, I'd rather struggle with money, but retain my current level of happiness. The difference with Tom is he's struggling but still not happy.

Also, as intelligent and thoughtful as he is, there is something emotionally stunted about Tom. He's a couple of years older than me and yet I can't help but feel that he is less mature.

We still had a good time, and good conversation, as ever.

I got a strange omen in the diner later in the evening. I saw a man at a faraway table that looked startlingly like my last boyfriend (who no longer lives in New York). I stared at the guy for a few minutes until I realized it wasn't him, but had to keep looking over to affirm the fact. A couple of months ago, I told my friend that if I was over this ex, but if I ever saw him I'd want to punch him in the face (it was that bad). When I saw this guy last night, thinking he was the ex, I didn't want to punch him. I didn't want to run up and hug him, either, but I felt nothing. Moreover, I felt the rush of freedom that comes with feeling nothing toward a person who caused you pain. I finally cleared the slate.

In the taxi home, where I would expect to feel a twinge of disappointment for not having had a romantic connection, I felt a bizarre exhilaration instead. I was certain that I was one step closer to meeting Him.

I still can't help but think it's on the horizon and that it will be this year.

There's this beatiful song by Muse called "Unintended", where a man sings about being on his way to meet the woman of his dreams:

You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You should be the one I'll always love

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before

It's romantic and dreamy but with a realistic edge. That's how I feel.

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