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Thursday, March 13, 2008

but we're not, so we're not.

For the past several days, I have been sick with whatever plague everyone in Atlanta had and am slowly recovering.  Then yesterday, to aid in my recovery, I got a delivery:

Let's just put aside the fact that I love fruit..  I mean love fruit.  This thing must weigh in at 20 pounds with its cantaloupe, honeydew, strawberries, grapes, daisy shaped pineapples with cantaloupe centers, bananas dipped in both dark and white chocolate...  I had to lay it on its side in my refrigerator.  I can count the number of times I've received flowers from guys on one hand, but a perfect (and enormous) bouquet of fruit from someone that is so special to me (Peter): once.  

 (note how it dwarfs the teapot on the back burner)

Ryan Adams has a song called Fuck the Universe. It's not exactly my favorite melodically, but sometimes I share that sentiment. I remember in high school physics learning that energy can only be converted, not created or destroyed. So, by my logic, the same is true for karmic and emotional energy. It's how such intense joy can also end up being so painful. I'm not trying to look at my current emotional situation and its ensuing turmoil as the universe playing some bitter, ironic joke on me, I swear. I'm really thankful for the amazing series of magical moments that I shared with Peter in Alaska. Since our trip, I've tried to keep the lesson of not focusing on the outcome of any situation, but just enjoying it for what it is, in that very moment.  That is surprisingly simple, but difficult to do.  I have to sort of turn off a part of my brain, but it's the same part responsible for worry, anxiety, jealousy, etc., so everything works out better that way.

Last night at work, I showed pictures of my fruit bouquet to everyone, as I was and still am in awe of such a unique and befitting gift.  Everyone's response, after initially being impressed, was to probe me for information, looking for definition in my relationship with Peter, for which there is none. 

Upon relaying this information to Peter, I inadvertently started a "what are we" conversation which I've intentionally avoided for two reasons.  One: it directly violates the lesson I learned in Alaska, to not focus on an outcome that I can neither anticipate nor control.  Two: I already know and verbalizing it only sheds the harsh light of reality on the fact that we are just two people who like each other a lot, if I may be so bold, but live 3,000 miles away from each other.  Fortunately, beneath my emotionally female brain, still exists my previous tendency to think quite like a guy and for this reason, I understand it in its plain reality.  

Peter had a simple definition too; "..if we were boyfriend/girlfriend living in the same city, we'd be awesome.  but we're not, so we're not.." but somehow these words sent me reeling and I cried tears from a place deeper than I have in a long time.  I am not looking to spend so much of my time and energy missing someone, pining for them and counting the days until I can see them again, wondering if the outcome will be us, together, in the same city, but I can't help but carry around a bit of heartache for now.  

The thing is, as I've come more into my adulthood, something in me has changed and superficial flings with people don't induce that drug-like euphoria that kept me from the emotional pain underneath like they used to.  Part of me wishes that it still did, like a recovering addict who knows too much to go back.  There are a lot of quality people and I am surrounded by many, but connections like this one are few and far between and therein lies the beauty and the irony. 


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