Wednesday, November 9, 2005

Love Actually – tia

One of my favourite movies of ALL TIME is Love Actually. I finally broke down and bought it not too long ago, because HBO stopped running it every day and I wanted the option of a.) watching it at my leisure and b.) being able to skip the ridiculously unnecessary sex scenes. (I understand what they were going for with that particular relationship: that sex is not the basis of all relationships and that one can find love not based solely on the intercourse of two individuals. I get that. However, it was a completely pointless plot line that I feel wasted a lot of time.) Anyway, I think the reason that I love the movie is because I can sincerely relate to a lot of the characters. Specifically, Sarah and the Karl situation (I have pined away for many a boy and on several occasions gotten the guy who seemed to be the unrequited object of my affection only to have it not work out for whatever reason.) and sadly on one occasion Karen and her mentally philandering husband (thankfully we weren’t married or we would have had a ‘til death do us part moment. Basically I would have killed him.)

But recent events have put me in something of a Mark and Juliet situation. And well, the whole thing has officially, unavoidably, unequivocally and in all other ways put me out of the game.

It all started Monday night. I was in the airport in Cincinnati after what had to have been the longest 2 days of my life. The day before I had spent 5 hours traveling by plane (including layovers) and then an additional 2 hours driving to get to the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania only to work for less than 4 hours the following day and travel all over again. So you can imagine how excited I was when I saw that there was an earlier flight to Nashvegas that was boarding as I got off of the plane in Cincy. You can also imagine how pissed I was when the woman behind the counter wouldn’t let me on the plane because it was already boarding. She said she couldn’t do it. Funny, just 4 days ago at this VERY SAME COUNTER someone else let me change my flight and get on the plane even though it was already boarding.

I guess I was just tired, stressed and pissed because I just started crying. For real, I mean bawling. Delta personnel handing me boxes of tissues, counter personnel asking me if I’m okay BAWLING. I went and sat in the corner and quietly cried on the phone to my mother for an hour and then to Toya for 45 minutes and then Toya’s Tag called me and I whined to him for 30 minutes.

3 ½ hours after arriving in Cincy I boarded the plane home. I was in the first row with a very non-descript looking white guy. Although it is quite difficult to size up the person sitting next to you without them knowing it, I have, with my extensive travel, become quite proficient at it. iPod, Dickie work boots, shaved head, full backpack with a lap top compartment: He’s from somewhere in the Midwest on his way to Nashville on business. He’s no more than 30 or so. And he travels a lot.

10 minutes into the flight he leans over and asks me what I’m listening to on my i(solation)Pod. I don’t normally talk to people on the plane. I just don’t. And he didn’t strike me as someone who converses either. Especially since from the moment he sat down he had his headphones on and didn’t really acknowledge my presence. I was so taken aback that I said, “I don’t know.” He began to explain he knows what that’s like. You have so many songs that you just kinda lose track of what you have. But you don’t want to delete anything because you might want to listen to the obscure song that you just deleted. I said, “Yeah, because you just never know when you’re going to want to listen to Breathe’s Hand To Heaven.” After that the conversation just flowed naturally. It was weird. I hadn’t had a plane conversation in I don’t know how long. But that wasn’t the weird thing. The thing that struck me as odd was that the conversation was just flowing naturally. We were cracking up like we’d known each other forever. So as we began making our initial decent in the Nashville area he asked, “So are you dating anyone? Are you married?”
Me: No. Guys don’t ask me out
Him: What?!?!
M: Guys don’t ask me out. I mean unless that have gold fronts or they’re 13 or something.
H: So when was the last time that you were on a date?
M: A real date, when someone else pays and you go out and sit down and have a good time and such?
H: Yeah…
M: Well, I guess it would have to have been about 5 or 6 years.
At this point I was about to lean over and close his mouth for him because it was open for so long.


We then began discussing the current state of “dating” in the Nashville area. But in the end he said, “That still doesn’t explain why “YOU” are single.” You seem like a cool chick, got your head on straight, no wild kids running around, good job, smart, beautiful…so what’s the story?”

After vehemently explaining that there was no story, he final took me at my word and let it go. A few minutes later he leaned over and asked, “So what would you say if I asked you out?” “You mean like on a date?” “Yeah, I know I run the risk of rejection but better to ask you and you say no than to get to my hotel and wonder.” “You mean like on a date?!?!?” “…Yeah” “I would say ‘Yes.’” “You want to go out tomorrow night?” “Yeah.”

Since it was my town I was instructed to pick someplace nice and we would dine around 6.
M: Some place nice…? So no jeans and a t-shirt?
H: Maybe nice is different here in the south but t-shirts don’t usually qualify as “nice.”
M: (jokingly) Jeans and a button down shirt???
H: It has been a while for you, huh?

After exchanging numbers we agreed to talk the next day and finalize plans. And just so you know: His name is Cody, he’s 29, 30 on December 1, from Utah, travels about 75% and had a client to see in Nashville. Can I call it or what?

Because I needed a sanity break from work, as evidenced by the break down in the Cincy airport, I took the next day off. It was a beautiful day and frankly I didn’t want to spend it inside. Cody texted me throughout the day and we finally decided to eat at this new place in the Gulch.

He cleans up real nice and apparently so do I if his glazed over eyes were any indication. The night went well. We sat and talked for hours and then left and talked for several more hours. Throughout the night, he would just look at me and ask, “So, what’s wrong with you? There’s got to be something wrong with you. There is no way that no one has snatched up a girl like you.” Every time he would ask I would shrug and change the subject. Because, honestly, I didn’t have an answer.

At 3 am we both came to the realization that the night had to end. As he was walking me to the car he looked me in the eye and said, “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.” Remember that scene in Love Actually, when Mark was holding up the signs for Juliet and one of them said, “To me, you are perfect.” That is one of the sweetest moments in movie history. But when it happens in real life it’s totally blows you away. So after one of the best hugs I’ve had in a long time and a kiss on the forehead that made me want to slap him (I really wish guys would NOT do the forehead kiss. It’s just UNFAIR.) I got in the car and immediately hit God up.

I know that He has it all under control. I know this. But I seriously would love to know why things like this happen. By all accounts, Cody is soooo my type. Except he’s Catholic (and lives in Utah, which is like the other side of the country.) I know to some it might seem like a cop-out. But Chris Rock made a great point in Bigger and Blacker. People in relationships from different religions have a really rough time of things. Because my relationship with God is not just “religion” it’s just one of those things I’m not willing to compromise on. I did it once with DISASTROUS results.

Anyway, I was really having it. I just couldn’t understand why to the guys that have no room for God in their lives I am utterly irresistible. But to the guys that actually love God I apparently emit some sort of anti-guy signal or something. There is a guy that I currently have a stupid bad crush on. He makes me laugh until my face hurts. He is so cute and he loves him some Jesus. My best guy friend in the whole world read his profile on myspace and said, “I like this guy.” But sadly, as great as I think he is, he is not checking for me. It seems to be the current trend in my life.

I know that God’s timing is utterly perfect. But at times it is also utterly frustrating. And because I am so tired, tired of the wrong guys, tired of pining away for the good ones, and well just tired in general, I’m out. For real, officially, and in all other ways out. I know I have said it before, but I’m for real. I’m out. I’m praying for the gift of celibacy. (My friend Josh just came over and asked me how I was doing. He got an earful ending with, “I’m out of the game.” He said you’re not out of the game. You’re just moving without the ball, which is sometimes just as important as moving with the ball. That’s a basketball analogy for those how don’t know. I said, “I’m not only out, but I’m not even on the bench. I don’t have my breakaway pants on or anything.” To which he politely replied, “But you’re still on the roster” and then walked away. I hate him.) But for the moment, I’m done. My brain, my emotions and my readyfuels can’t take it. So I’m officially on boy hiatus, indefinitely. I think I may even try to bone up on the life of Mother Theresa. Anyone know where the nearest convent is….?

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