Destruction leads to a very rough road,
but it also breeds creation.- Red Hot Chili Peppers, Californication
-+-
As the music plays, he pulls me in, leading me to wrap my arms around the nape of his neck. We don't know the name of the bar we're in - we just know that it's the only bar within walking distance that's open and has dancing on a Sunday night. The crowd is sparse; while people come and go, we become a staple of the dance floor, staying there the majority of the evening.
At this moment in particular, only the two of us are illuminated by the neon strobe lights, completely engulfed by the DJ's odd choices in clubbing music. It's an awkward playlist, combining songs with strange beats and unnatural drops in rhythm, mixed in with old pop songs and only a few handfuls of tunes we've ever heard of, let alone know the lyrics to. As Californication by Red Hot Chili Peppers starts playing, he and I exchange a look of confusion. We're obviously familiar with the song, but we're unsure of how we should dance to this. Meanwhile, we're slowly swaying, just for the sake of maintaining momentum, when he decides to run with it. He wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me closer, pressing his cheek against mine. I hesitate before surrendering myself to how pleasant this is, and I reciprocate, shifting my arms into a fuller embrace and resting my head on his shoulder.
The floor completely belongs to us as I bring my lips close to his ear to overcome the volume of the music, "You know, we're slow-dancing to The Red Hot Chili Peppers, of all things."
He brings his mouth close to my ear to reply, "I don't care. Do you?"
I think about this for a few seconds, and realize that I don't. Not at all. I shake my head.
We keep dancing, and I take in the moment. It's one thing to dance with someone and feel like we're the only two people on the dance floor. It's another experience entirely to literally be the only two people on the dance floor, knowing that everyone is watching us as they drink and chat, with us simply not caring. While the current atmosphere is of course far cruder, I can't help but wonder if this is similar to how the bride and groom feel at weddings. Even though we're in a nameless bar with Californication humming over us, with colored lights and smoke machines saturating the air, and with drunk people laughing all around us, there's still something exquisitely romantic about this moment.
I see the DJ looking up from his laptop and taking notice to us, and he changes the music to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman. Now, the tempo of the music matches our swaying perfectly, although it's clear in our body language that we don't mind either way.
Regardless, I'm admittedly delighted by the special treatment from the DJ. I pull myself away, with the intent to just briefly tell my dance partner, "I think he changed the music because of us!"
He looks at me and nods quietly, then slowly runs his fingers along the length of my cheek. To my shock, I see that his eyes are welling over with tears.
He must have read my expression -- I didn't put much thought towards hiding it -- because he fondly explains, "I've liked you for a really long time, Christa. I've always wanted to be with you."
My mind races a mile a minute. A few seconds ago, I felt like I was on a very nice date. Simple as that. Now, I am standing face-to-face with a man that not only admires this romance as I do, but has been moved to the very core by it. It suddenly dawned on me that all of this -- dancing with me, holding me, pressing his cheek against mine, even running his fingers along my cheek -- these are all things he's been dreaming of for a long time. For longer than I know.
What do I say?
It's been three weeks to the day since I left Atlanta, GA, and I flew away from Jacob. After the roller coaster of emotions that I went through as I was in Georgia and immediately after I left, things fell back to normal surprisingly quickly.
Even before Jacob left San Diego two months ago, it took a while to swallow the deal we made about our future together. Care about each other, but don't be tied down to each other. Christa, I care about you a lot, but I want you to be happy. Do what's best for you. If someone else piques your interest, don't wait for me. Don't deny that we have romantic feelings towards each other, but also have the freedom to move on. When I was in Georgia, we talked about this more through a very sobering and disillusioning conversation.
It was difficult to cope with while I was there, crying in his arms, but it really shouldn't be a surprise that ultimately, Jacob's sincere advice rang true. Once you move into your new house and start your new job, you'll be too busy to miss me. It's equally undeniable that our conversation was vitally important for me to have -- not only did my mind become completely involved in work, but it helped a great deal to no longer see the world in pink. More self-discipline whenever I wanted to text him about all the random things. No more crying over missing him. Also, as it turned out, he didn't have that conversation with me because he had already gotten over me -- which I had well perceived. He just remembered our deal. We've liked each other, and while perhaps we're not destined to get married, we eventually want to stay good friends. I was just getting in too deep when we made plans to taper off.
I realized that it wasn't necessary to quit Jacob cold turkey, to throw my love off a cliff. Life happens as it should when my emotions and thoughts are not so clouded by lonesomeness, longing, love, and dreams of the future. We still text, call, and we chat over webcam, but steadily less and less frequently. What was once a text every few hours is now every few days. As we are not committed, not pressured to maintain our affections in the face of extreme distance, the taper does, in fact, occur naturally. C'est la vie.
Suffice it to say that, even though my feelings for Jacob were far from an all-time high, I had mixed feelings when I got a message from David. He was going to be in the San Diego area on family business, and wanted to see me while he was in town. David was the technician that worked in the lab next to mine when I was still in undergrad. For the better part of a year, we exchanged small talk and had friendly conversations in the hallways between protocols.
One day, my lab manager and I were grabbing coffee, and he shared his opinion on my interactions with The Boy Next Door. He coughed, "So, Christa... I think David likes you." Indeed, soon afterwards, during the first month of my senior year of college, David started asking me out a few times to lunch and dinner. However, aside from several meals and the occasional movie together, it didn't go anywhere.
The abrupt end to our brief history of dates was admittedly by my hand. In college, David was at the center of attention of a number of girls. One girl in particular, who worked in his lab, was especially affectionate towards him. She would hold his hand, rest her head on his shoulder, and tickle him at lab dinners -- lab dinners that he invited me to. "Oh, Christa! Tee-hee, help me tickle him!"
...uh... no thx
Although he sometimes made concerned eye contact with me as she constantly found herself near him, his lack of refusing her advances -- especially right in front of me -- incredibly deterred me. Before one of our lab dinners, the three of us were carpooling together when she cooed, "Oh, wow! I just realized, I'm in a car with the two cutest people I know!" In reply, he smiled, "That's funny, because I think that you and Christa are the two cutest people I know!" I, however, was absolutely silent in the shotgun seat of David's car, 'wtf is this bullsh--'
I didn't want to play these games, especially not with someone who, at the time, only seemed to be courting me. I couldn't tell if David was just too kind to hurt her feelings, or if this really was how he always acted with her and he was just playing me. That was a gamble that I refused to make; as I described to my housemate, "I thought I was special, but I don't want to be with someone that's treating other girls the same way he's treating me."
I immediately lost interest, and I moved on. I stopped being enthusiastic when David asked me out on dates, and I let school, lab, and friendships take priority over him. We still sometimes ran into each other at lab, but in the end, I graduated and left Merced without even telling him goodbye.
(Answer that I received just this weekend: "Ugh, I didn't know how to make her go away! She always wanted to be near me, and all I wanted to do was be near you.")
So after all of that, when David told me that he wanted to see me in San Diego, I wasn't sure how to react. By this point, it had been forever since I held an extended conversation with him. Even as the days counted down, I was still not sure how to feel about seeing him in San Diego. A year ago, we went out a bit, I liked him for the length of a month, I shunned him, and then I moved away. That was essentially our story, and I thought that's where we'd always leave it. What was I supposed to make of this odd, unexpected sequel?
Think about how confused that made me, and hold that thought. Now, imagine now how I must have felt when David was sitting next to me on the fold-out chair in my room -- several hours before our dance at the nameless bar -- and he told me, "I propose... that we make today a date."
Although my thought processing started working in overdrive, I held firm eye contact, my expression steady. As I looked straight into his eyes, he seemed like he was holding his breath, waiting a lifetime for my answer. I didn't manage to get far in my pro's and con's list -- Jacob and I aren't a committed relationship. I used to have a crush on David and this is my chance to see it through. Either way, he's only here for two days before he goes back to Merced. -- before I realized, 'Oh god, he looks so nervous for my answer! oh god i don't have time to think of cons OH GOD I HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING'
I quickly replied, "I'm not ready to commit to anything. I don't want to start anything serious, especially since we're so far away from each other." He reacted to my answer well -- maybe in total agreement, or maybe just happy that I didn't say no outright. We agreed that this date would have a terminal ending. I quietly breathed a sigh of relief. If nothing else, I sure knew that I wasn't ready to jump into a relationship.
I effectively bought myself a few more seconds of thinking, but I instead spent this time staring into his eyes, trying to figure out what color they are. They're a dark shade, and I had trouble seeing them clearly in this light. I still don't know what color they are.
The word slipped past my tongue. "Yes," I blurted.
After all, this date seemed almost sensible. Practical, even. Maybe it's, in fact, healthy for me to start testing other waters. This also gave us opportunities for closure, as I closed the door so suddenly, and I never even said goodbye. We seemed to wholeheartedly agree that this wasn't a commitment. After all, he's only here for two days, then he's flying back across the state. Right?
I suppose... there's no harm in it.
...
What do I say?
My mind reorients itself back to the dance floor. Unlike the silence of my room when he asked for this date, the lights and sounds thankfully distract from my speechlessness. I've always wanted to be with you.
Instead of waiting for my reply, David gently presses his forehead against mine, and we keep swaying to the music. You got a fast car; is it fast enough so we can fly away? He's clearly satisfied with the music, without further conversation, but I still keep thinking about what I should say. How I should react.
It wasn't until a day later that I finally responded.
Throughout my workday, my distracted mind found a lot of time to ponder it over. I knew that I enjoyed these past two days with David, but as much as I tried to conjure the mental picture, the past two days also let me know that I couldn't imagine myself being with him. I couldn't see a future with him. I can't see him as the "one."
When his visit was coming to an end, I have to admit, I was a bit relieved. As I drove him to the airport, I gently touched his forearm with my fingertips, reminding him, "I can't start something right now, especially not something based in distance. I do like having you in my life. If nothing else, we'll stay friends."
His reaction was not as enthusiastic as last time. He implied that something could still begin anew between us, but I was firm and echoed my own words. Even then, it was still an explanation shrouded in euphemism, and I knew that it wouldn't be enough right now. Not for closure. Not for someone moved nearly to tears by one slow-dance. I delicately planted the seeds, but I know that's a door I'll likely need to close myself in the future. Part of me has to wonder if it's because my heart still clings elsewhere. Another part of me actually rationalizes that there are enormous pieces of us that are hugely incompatible -- critically so.
Yet even then, there was a small piece of me that was genuinely hesitant, just not quite ready to reseal that door just yet -- the part of me that's still lost in that dance. The shard of me that's still stuck in that nameless bar.
Luckily, at least for me, I know that these things will taper off. As far as I'm concerned, this was my closure. I may be hesitant to close that door for now, but I know that in the end, I want it shut. However, as I remember all the gratitude and joy that glowed on his face as his fingertips touched my cheek -- even though it had been ages since we last held a conversation, since we had last seen each other, since our last date nearly a year ago -- I'm not entirely sure I can say the same for David.
When the time comes, I may need to be ready to help this die.
C'est la vie.
-+-
Buy me a star on the boulevard,
it's Californication...