About missed connections...
Things I am good at, in no particular order:
1. Remembering things that are of no importance or real significance.
2. Complaining
3. Bullshitting
4. Putting my foot in my mouth
5. Buying gifts for people
6. Taking things personally/self pity
7. Striking out, arms flailing madly, with girls
I do this last on an INTERNATIONAL level.
For instance, this afternoon I met my good friend Nick at Logan Airport, as he was leaving for France. We went to eat dinner at the little restaurant they have right near the security checkpoint. While we were eating, this girl came at sat at the table next to us by herself. She was CLEARLY English, and CLEARLY cute. And, what's more, she started talking to us.
We talked about random stuff, basically for the whole time we were there. It was interesting, genial, all of that. Turned out she was in college here in Mass, and was going to England to visit her siblings and cousins over break. And, for a small while at the beginning of the conversation, I felt as if maybe, MAYBE, she was interested in me. I was intrigued: A cute British girl is perhaps my greatest weakness, and one not too far from my age going to school not too far from where I live, who started a conversation with me? Almost too much.
I didn't do anything REALLY dumb. I might have put my foot in my mouth at one time or another, I'm not certain. I didn't go slack jawed and ask for a phone number or email, nothing like that. I didn't do those things because, as the conversation progressed, I could feel that, perhaps, she did not WANT me to ask. And, yes, she had a plane to catch, but when we'd all finished eating, she seemed to be in quite a hurry to get out of there, which is sad.
Either way, at one point she said something about Facebook, and Nick suggested that she look us up on there. She didn't say no, or any such thing, but when she had said her name earlier, she left out a last name and did not add one here, which would eliminate our ability to look her up. And, based on that, neither of us gave our last names, thus closing that avenue.
I think he tried to put in a good word for me after they were both through security, because when I texted him saying how I felt that she didn't really like me, he mentioned that she said she wasn't looking for a relationship because of how often she traveled. Which is a fine, a fair reason. Yet it'd be nice to have someone to meet up with in Boston from time to time. Especially a cute, intelligent, funny British someone.
And I guess the funny part, through all of this, is that now it is basically assured that I'll never see this girl again. That got me thinking about connections, and how easy it is to miss them.
There are so many doors that are completely closed off, for each of us. Any given day, through any action we take, we close any number of doors FOR GOOD. And, as any of you will know about me, I don't like things that are FOR GOOD. It's scary to think of something being forever. But, since this is just how probability, how nature itself, works...then I guess closing doors is natural and should be accepted.
But sometimes, oh sometimes...it hurts.
I thought about it tonight, and wondered why on Earth it should hurt me to know that I'll never see or hear from this random girl again. In part, I guess, it hurts because it was evidence of a failure on my part. A failure to either ask for a number and take what comes from it, or a failure to be attractive or charming enough for the situation, or just a failure to make someone else feel the curiosity and desire to become acquainted that I felt. That's one reason it hurt.
But, at the same time, it was just ONE girl. One of over 3 billion in the world. A girl whose existence I was only aware of for less than 90 minutes, in an airport restaurant in the international terminal. Why should it affect me any more than any of the pretty girls I see on the T every day, or at the tea store or back in college or ANYWHERE at ANY TIME at all?
And I guess that's the other reason it hurt: Because incidences like this don't just exist in a vacuum. They are part of my life, of a recurring pattern in it of never getting the girl. It hurt because it threw all of those other instances into relief, making them stand out in my mind as if they all happened again, at once. In that moment, all of the previous missed connections, all of the doors I'd thrown shut or had shut on me, recapitulated in my head. This makes one feel small, very small indeed, in the universe. (Do I dare disturb the universe?)
I know I'll forget it in a relatively short while. I'm not equipped, like some people, to shrug off things like this, but I will forget about it. Oh, but not FOR GOOD. I'll remember, as I always do, the next time I miss a connection.
I long for a connection. But a connection on MY terms. And, as surely as "perfect" is impossible, so also is a connection on MY terms.
Somewhere, a plane is slicing through the cold winter sky, on its way to England. Somewhere else, in many places, people are cuddling together under blankets to remind themselves of what's good in the world, to remind themselves that the only sensible reason to be here, to be alive at all is to be here WITH someone else, FOR someone else.
In Cambridge, Massachusetts, I am alone, as I've always been, thinking about the impossible and wondering who'll have a blanket for me, because it's a cold night and baby, it isn't getting any warmer.
1. Remembering things that are of no importance or real significance.
2. Complaining
3. Bullshitting
4. Putting my foot in my mouth
5. Buying gifts for people
6. Taking things personally/self pity
7. Striking out, arms flailing madly, with girls
I do this last on an INTERNATIONAL level.
For instance, this afternoon I met my good friend Nick at Logan Airport, as he was leaving for France. We went to eat dinner at the little restaurant they have right near the security checkpoint. While we were eating, this girl came at sat at the table next to us by herself. She was CLEARLY English, and CLEARLY cute. And, what's more, she started talking to us.
We talked about random stuff, basically for the whole time we were there. It was interesting, genial, all of that. Turned out she was in college here in Mass, and was going to England to visit her siblings and cousins over break. And, for a small while at the beginning of the conversation, I felt as if maybe, MAYBE, she was interested in me. I was intrigued: A cute British girl is perhaps my greatest weakness, and one not too far from my age going to school not too far from where I live, who started a conversation with me? Almost too much.
I didn't do anything REALLY dumb. I might have put my foot in my mouth at one time or another, I'm not certain. I didn't go slack jawed and ask for a phone number or email, nothing like that. I didn't do those things because, as the conversation progressed, I could feel that, perhaps, she did not WANT me to ask. And, yes, she had a plane to catch, but when we'd all finished eating, she seemed to be in quite a hurry to get out of there, which is sad.
Either way, at one point she said something about Facebook, and Nick suggested that she look us up on there. She didn't say no, or any such thing, but when she had said her name earlier, she left out a last name and did not add one here, which would eliminate our ability to look her up. And, based on that, neither of us gave our last names, thus closing that avenue.
I think he tried to put in a good word for me after they were both through security, because when I texted him saying how I felt that she didn't really like me, he mentioned that she said she wasn't looking for a relationship because of how often she traveled. Which is a fine, a fair reason. Yet it'd be nice to have someone to meet up with in Boston from time to time. Especially a cute, intelligent, funny British someone.
And I guess the funny part, through all of this, is that now it is basically assured that I'll never see this girl again. That got me thinking about connections, and how easy it is to miss them.
There are so many doors that are completely closed off, for each of us. Any given day, through any action we take, we close any number of doors FOR GOOD. And, as any of you will know about me, I don't like things that are FOR GOOD. It's scary to think of something being forever. But, since this is just how probability, how nature itself, works...then I guess closing doors is natural and should be accepted.
But sometimes, oh sometimes...it hurts.
I thought about it tonight, and wondered why on Earth it should hurt me to know that I'll never see or hear from this random girl again. In part, I guess, it hurts because it was evidence of a failure on my part. A failure to either ask for a number and take what comes from it, or a failure to be attractive or charming enough for the situation, or just a failure to make someone else feel the curiosity and desire to become acquainted that I felt. That's one reason it hurt.
But, at the same time, it was just ONE girl. One of over 3 billion in the world. A girl whose existence I was only aware of for less than 90 minutes, in an airport restaurant in the international terminal. Why should it affect me any more than any of the pretty girls I see on the T every day, or at the tea store or back in college or ANYWHERE at ANY TIME at all?
And I guess that's the other reason it hurt: Because incidences like this don't just exist in a vacuum. They are part of my life, of a recurring pattern in it of never getting the girl. It hurt because it threw all of those other instances into relief, making them stand out in my mind as if they all happened again, at once. In that moment, all of the previous missed connections, all of the doors I'd thrown shut or had shut on me, recapitulated in my head. This makes one feel small, very small indeed, in the universe. (Do I dare disturb the universe?)
I know I'll forget it in a relatively short while. I'm not equipped, like some people, to shrug off things like this, but I will forget about it. Oh, but not FOR GOOD. I'll remember, as I always do, the next time I miss a connection.
I long for a connection. But a connection on MY terms. And, as surely as "perfect" is impossible, so also is a connection on MY terms.
Somewhere, a plane is slicing through the cold winter sky, on its way to England. Somewhere else, in many places, people are cuddling together under blankets to remind themselves of what's good in the world, to remind themselves that the only sensible reason to be here, to be alive at all is to be here WITH someone else, FOR someone else.
In Cambridge, Massachusetts, I am alone, as I've always been, thinking about the impossible and wondering who'll have a blanket for me, because it's a cold night and baby, it isn't getting any warmer.