I guess there’s a moment after a few years that hits you and makes you need to start writing again. That moment is right now. It’s been a while, guys- I know. Where did I even last leave you. My ex fiancé baby daddy and I breaking apart and my trying to move on two years ago? Well in that two years I met a new and beautiful love but unfortunately lost him to the heavens; may he be resting in eternal peace at last and rocking out like the badass he was. But I guess that is an entirely different blog post. I learned a hell of a lot from being with him and it’s been a crazy ride. But this post is because I got the writing bug after meeting this dude at a show on Friday who changed my world. Doesn’t that sound crazy? Because it is. I’m so crazy. It’s called being overly emotional, sensitive, a hopeless romantic and all of the above…but if you’ve followed my posts in the past (if not, get to looking) you will know this is nothing new from me!
Anyways- I met this guy. I’m at a Circa Survive show in Providence, Rhode Island…mostly to see Hail the Sun with my (late) boyfriend’s sister cause we have emotional ties to the band and she’s an entirely other love of my life. The crowd is crazy, Circa comes on, the pit gets going- Jess is a little badass moshing around. This guy and I keep bumping into each other; there were occasional spills and falls taken and the three of us scream/talked at one another and sang really loud- all the while I could barely understand him with the music amplified and maybe some drinks in me. He continued to turn around and say things to the point where I had to stop him and ask, “DO YOU HAVE AN ACCENT?!” Because I’m rude and just couldn’t hear or understand anything he was saying into my face. He goes, “YA IM AUSTRALIAN!” And it all made sense. I think I smirked to myself cause I’ve been waiting 30 years to meet a cute Australian man and I tried to yell back, “WELL I CAN’T HEAR YOU, WE’LL TALK AFTER THE SHOW!” With a strange boost of confidence as if he’d still be around after the show to talk to.
The encore came on, people started scrambling around and Jess emerged out of the pit and said suggested bouncing to a bar to get a drink; the night was still young. Sometimes, like I said, I get random boosts of confidence- and just began typing my number on my phone screen and told him to copy it down so I could somehow prevent the night from ending with him- as if we were having a night together. He handed me his phone, had my type in my number and called it so I had his. PROGRESS. Saved as Elena Circa. At that point I didn’t know a single thing about him. I didn’t register that an accent in America probably means he doesn’t live here permanently. But one can dream. We are all walking out and some random group a people catches up with him and asks if he wants to go to a bar and I’m thinking these must be his friends or the people he came with- maybe he’s studying abroad or something and like 20 years old and I’m a cougar- who knows! We get to a bar and discover he’s just met them too so I’m with my friend and he’s alone. He’s just some beautiful traveling wanderer that came to a Circa show because he owes them his life (in so many words) and he’s been making his way throughout the states.
We do a round of Irish car bombs that transports me back to my college days some 838292 years ago and eat some food. I am humbled at the opportunity to be surrounded by new people, new experience and whatever comes next. I learn the four other friends are from Connecticut- and we quickly exchange social media accounts. Around 12:45am, they decide to head out leaving Jess, the Aussie and myself wondering what to do after a trip to the car lot.
In a crazy, drunken series of conversational events, we end up driving to Boston (home) in hopes of finding an after party to attend. The Aus (is that rude to say?) was down for whatever, him and my friend were chatting it up about getting us on a boat to Croatia come July- and I was DD. So why not. Live a little. He was sweet, had plenty of stories and conversation, and was down for the ride from Hell that turned into a trip to Boston- ending up stuck in an IHOP parking lot- and driving back to Rhode Island to catch a flight at 6am.
But of course it’s those little things, right? Cause I’m a silly girl who looked at all the simply beautiful gestures and fell head over heels for a guy I’d never see again. Okay- that’s a total reach and way too dramatic but you get what I mean. I was intrigued and interested. And I never am. It was how sweet he was to my friend, how he went into IHOP to get me a water and came out with steak and eggs and funfetti pancakes that we ate while surrounded by police cars because a fight broke out and we were trapped in the parking lot. A meal that ended in snorting laughter and food fights. A drive at 3am back to Providence filled with ample music, singing, lengthy conversation about life and death, more laughing and occasional solemn stare. We talked about our past, our present- hopes for the future. We each had a story. We know we came from things that broke us and there was so much more to learn, question, explore and say.
This dude picked up on things I would do- my “isms”- that it takes anyone forever to learn or notice about me. He knew when I was uncomfortable, he knew when I was using humor to hide behind something, he appreciated my snark but knew I was probably just a troubled introvert looking for true connection. Whatever it was, it worked. And I felt something I rarely do. The things I only feel once in a while. The thing I felt for my late boyfriend and for my ex fiancé. That thing you think you’ll never have again after you lose it- that makes you get crazy and ahead of yourself wondering if the other person feels it too.
I’m sure you know where this story is going. I felt all these things. Thought all these things. We had an amazing night together that was just a further continuation of all of those miraculous moments that made me realize how rare these men are and how hard I try to hold on to them. Laying in his hotel bed listening to his world travels and hearing him tell me that I was beautiful? You’ve got to be kidding. Holding me tight, making sure I was comfortable, grabbing me closer whenever I moved to readjust from the heat- the things you picture doing with someone you enjoy forever. How can you not start imagining more days like this. More nights.
The next morning was just a continuation. Wishing he could delay his flight or see how close to the very last minute we could get to drop him off at the airport. But it was all coming to an end and the only hope I had to cling on to was that we had each other’s number and he will be visiting Boston the following week as part of his travels. I immediately started thinking about getting to talk with him until then and how excited I would be to see him again- the anticipation almost unruly. I ran away with it in my mind. All the way until I pulled up to the airline and he went to get out of the car.
There was no kiss goodbye. I thought maybe reality had sunk in or he woke up after drinking the night before with a completely different perspective of how things happened. That tends to be my thing. I am usually sober and contemplative. I take so much of everything in and remember everything; I appreciate each thing usually the other person doesn’t remember or was barely (mentally) present for. I guess I needed this hit on the head for how silly I was being. Thinking there was a future or romanticized notion of something more to come with someone who doesn’t live here, won’t be here, can’t be here and is always on the go. But oh- it was such a nice notion, you guys. He chatted with me throughout the day before and after his flight to Hotlanta and off to Florida. He continued to be adorable, sweet and I could hear his voice in every word he sent.
Until it abruptly stopped.
I figure he met up with his family. He’s busy. He is used to meeting people, having these experiences weekly or nightly. It’s all routine. I am not.
He’s also not crazy like me and thinking all one million of these things like I am! Which brings me to why I decided to pick up the…cursor…and write again. Because my mind was going in circles. I am used to this. I really am. I dwell, I think too much, I over analyze- throw in some self loathing and emo music and call it a day. But the importance of my writing this, ever so simply now, is because this was the first time I needed to get it out of my head. It’s been the same story with the same guys for me for the past few years. I can process and dwell on that shit in my own head all the time without writing it down. But this time, I met someone who was new and different. Someone who showed me maybe I could have it all. Someone who showed me what I deserve and what I like. There is sometimes a level of unmatched and unparalleled comfort with someone- you don’t know where it manifests or why it is happening but it is there. It’s like you’ve known the person for years and you’re in a place it takes others long to get to. That’s what it felt like with him. I could be myself. He was himself. There was a weird, uncanny but comfortable connection. And it was just beautiful. (It’s rare for me. I’ve had it the only other times I’ve mentioned.) I wish I had the chance to talk to him more. I feel like I could ask him a million questions, go a million places with him and explore so many things.
But it is like they say- sometimes he’s just not that into you. And you know I already premised this story with what an irrational, romanticized, dramatic brain I have. And maybe that’s why I needed to start writing again, too. Because I don’t care if I’m like this. I don’t care how many people I asked and bothered about my one night love affair that I couldn’t get out of my head. I don’t care if I still believe in love- like that gross annoying soulmate love. All I was thinking about was getting to see him again next week (until I think he made it clear that just wasn’t how this was going)- Because my perception of reality is clearly never the same as the mans.
But hey, it’s cool. It’s cool to have a romantic heart that aches like mine. Some day, guys. It’ll happen.
Conscious Corridor 