My attempt of match making

“You are a strange bird.”  He then turns to my girlfriend and said, “Isn’t she strange?”

“She’s a hard case, that one. Generous, kind, but a hard case. She has a very deep commitment to marriage and family, yet a bit cynic about relationships.”

“She’s odd.” He concludes his assessment of me and continues his discussion with my girlfriend on her art. She has an extensive collection of her pottery, photography and sculptures on her iPhone. He’s rather intrigued and finds her interesting.  They are both creative types with corporate day jobs.

“I like this one.” He announces.

“I know you would.” I have been trying to, unsuccessfully, set him up with my single girlfriends.

I sit there quietly drinking my mojito, let them chat. They are getting along awfully well.

Here is the thing about me, you may or may not know this. I am generally not an emotional being. Once in a blue moon, I crash and burn and I resurface renewed. Each time a thicker layer of cynicism, sarcasm, and hardened soul. If you catch me in that rare blue moon light, where the shadowed me elongated, my face pasty white and I’m gravely silent, and I am at my most vulnerable state, I shall be receptive to feelings, and I shall trust and even love you with abandonment. I will let you trample over my depleted body, my soul bared for you to crush freely. Then I cry. Once in a very blue moon I will cry. For you, for the lost love, for the lack of vision to the eternal happiness, which as we all know, is just an illusion. I expect you to embrace me and care for me, to take care of me, but you don’t. You say these things because you think that’s what I want to hear and you leave. You say what I want to hear because you know that I understand you can’t fulfill them. You know that I can handle it with the grace of woman. You give me too much credit. I don’t deserve that much credit. I shall never be caught, again. So you let me go. See me sink and you pretend nothing has ever happened. People reset. You know that. You don't really care so much about others. You are in your own universe. You reset me. And I revert back. If I have any doubt, I just tell myself, and my friends will tell me “Reset. Please reset.”

I am a wind up doll, You wind me up when you need me; you wind me down when you are done with me. I am then put back into the closet. Collecting dust. That’s the version of me you may or may not know.

“I’m seeing Michael tomorrow.” She tells me.

“I’ve not seeing him since September. I had gone psychotic on him in March. We have not talked much.” She is matter-of-factly.

“I want him to leave his wife, and to be with me.” She’s that certain of her intention.

“But you have not seen him right, since September?” I asks just to be certain.

“Yes, but I want this to be right. I want him to want me back, this time.” She has a very determined way about her.

Michael is her sort of boyfriend. They met years ago at work. He moved from San Francisco to Boston. He is married, has a house in Marin, where his wife and children reside. Now the children are grown and out of the house. Michael keeps his apartment in Boston while comes back to San Francisco bay area once in a while. He’s a CEO of a large firm based in Boston. She’s somewhat 20 years younger than he is.

“Ask my friend here, see what he thinks.” She talks to my friend about Michael. Her love for him. He’s listening intently. I am quiet because I have nothing but negative thoughts about she and Michael. I think she should move on. She can move on if she lets go of him. I am a master of letting go but I can’t share my philosophy with her. I’m a married woman with two children.

My letting-go days are long gone. I accept my reality. I make the best of out of it, and as she indicates, I have a “very deep commitment to marriage and family.”

“Maybe you should just let it be. Just see how it goes tomorrow. No expectations no need to plan to lure him back in. Just go with the flow.” He advises her.

I senses that relationship talks bores him. Relationship talks are for girlfriends. I go back to art.

“I have a friend Andy who owns a gallery in New Orleans. I will introduce you two. You need friends. Andy is from New York. He now lives in New Orleans.”

My friend looks at her and then me, “Yes I know you are from New York too. But I’m not talking about you.”

“I read her blog you know.” My girlfriend turns to him and brags about her knowledge of the other me. The one few know.

“Really, what is it?” He asks.

“Not for you to know.” I snap.

“She IS a hard case.” My girlfriend nods her head. My friend laughs.

At the end of the evening, she says to him, “If you come to New Orleans, come and look me up. I’ll get your contact information from her. We must stay in touch.” She seems to like him.

My friend gives me a ride home.

“So do you like her?” I ask.

“She’s interesting. But I’m not interested in her.” He says.

Zero for two.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

He does not answer. He drives his beamer and he looks forward. We are on the Bay Bridge and I try to find something to say to him.

“She IS interesting” is all I managed to say.

“Yes she is.” He agrees with me.

“You are a strange bird. You keep on wanting to have me to meet your girlfriends and set me up with them.” He continues to try to direct conversation back to me. I don’t want to talk about me.

“I think you need companionship and you are cool.” I tell him the way it is.

“What if I’m not looking for anything?” He questions.

“We are all looking for something. We are designed to look for something. We can’t be alone forever.”

But then perhaps he has what he’s looking for already. I just don’t know what that is.

So I will continue my attempt of match-making.

“Next week then? I will see you same time next week in the Mission?”

“Peut-être!”

Who knows, she likes him, it appears. He finds her interesting. Who knows?

Maybe third time is a charm.

Peut-être…