Sometimes, When I Look In Your Eyes I Swear I Can See Your Soul

Well, yesterday was certainly an interesting day. I woke up a little late so I didn’t have time to shave and had to dress hurriedly. So, basically I looked and felt like a slob. Work went by largely uneventfully, though I’m now potentially–and this is a long shot–going to be in-charge of my department and a class advisor. We’ll see how that all goes down though.

Anyway, right after school I got a call–actually a text message–from a friend of mine looking to hang out for a while that afternoon. So, despite my grungy appearance I headed out to meet her. And though our time was limited (D^ had a baseball game that I wanted to get to) it was a perfect afternoon. We just hung around in the park chatting about relationships and all that we’re up to nowadays, about our lack of debit card savvy, and about how damned good looking we both are–which is funny because I was looking like I had just rolled out of bed. All else I can say is that her eyes are so bright and lively. When I looked into her eyes I saw so much going on behind them; so much energy and expression to them. Man oh man.

Oh–and as a part of our afternoon we went to the store to buy some hair coloring. Though she joked that this was probably a first for me, in fact it wasn’t. I even remembered the shade of auburn that I’d been sent out to get a couple of times. Walking through Stop & Shop was fun; we were both acting a little silly and all. I’d have to say one of my best supermarket visits in a while. Um, not that I rank them or anything…But, anyway, the afternoon ended all too soon with both of us promising to find more time to talk this week.

D^’s game was good, but another disappointing loss. His team, undefeated last year, is now 0-3. It’s funny though, because though it’s clear that this is NOT the same team, all of the opponents are still gunning for them–saving their best pitchers for the game; celebrating like they won the World Series when the game is over. There are a lot of coaches out there looking for revenge. But that’s okay, D^s getting six innings of playing time each game and building his own skills as his coaches struggle to build up the skills of all the new players.

So, after the game, I stopped by the bar to get a quick bite to eat. As I was walking in I noticed JetBlue’s car out on the street. I involuntarily grimaced–I really didn’t want to deal with either talking to her or, for that matter, not talking to her. It’s hard to explain what I mean by that so I hope that you get it. But I had such a nice afternoon I really didn’t want to be brought down. So, anyway, the only seat at the bar was a couple down from her so I went down, ready for whatever would happen. I was sitting next to the Jilted One and JMc, who’s off to war very soon. At a couple of different times, JetBlue started talking to me, but I could hardly hear her. Which was fine. Then she started talking about how D. had said that some guy was gay and that guy had heard him and his feelings were hurt and how D. should be one to talk. I pointed out that if D. were gay he’s got it buried deeper than any closeted gay in history. Then she started talking about how her Friday night was crazy and didn’t end at two and blah blah blah. Why are you telling me this? But anyway, whatevah.

So, for the two hours I was there watching Dice-K rock the Tigers, I managed not to get totally sucked into the vortex. It helped that I was text messaging my afternoon buddy. (Funny aside: shortly after she noticed that I was getting regular messages, suddenly JetBlue was checking her phone and sending a message. Coincidence? Or something else entirely?) Though there was an empty seat next to JB I fought the urge to get up and sit next to her even though I could tell she was in a talkative mood and at times I’ve craved just those opportunities. But I could see in her eyes that weariness, that run down quality, that for me has come to represent circular and meaningless conversations without end, that symbolize the JetBlue relationship so well.

At some point, I had a smoke with JMc and the cook. We talked about movies. I wish I could remember the names of the ones he recommended. And we talked about the Jilted One and how he wanted to offer her $50 if she could go 45 minutes without mentioning her ex-boyfriend. I told him that that might be a bad idea because the mention of the ex’s name would probably bring on the tears and re-double her urge to moan on about him. And when we went back in, she had found a new shoulder to cry on. She can’t be good for business at this point.

So, anyway, as the game ended I decided to get going–hey, I had a date with Tony Bourdain that I was a little late for. As I was leaving…okay–I knew I shouldn’t have done it; I knew it was an absolute mistake, but I stopped and said good night to JetBlue. You know, just being nice. Damn me for that. She launched into one of her unending stories–what’s worse, one I heard before. And there I was standing–no way I was going to sit down, I’d still be there now–sucked totally into the vortex. As she was talking, I noticed that K2 had arrived (why oh why is she always arriving when I’m leaving) and it looked like she was going to come up to talk to us. Now, I don’t know if she didn’t want to interrupt what could be a private conversation or if she didn’t want me fawning all over her, but she turned around suddenly and started talking to someone else. Maybe she just recognized that JB was stuck in endless chat mode. Who knows. Luckily for me the Bachelor or some other show briefly caught JetBlue’s attention and in the brief moment that her conversation bomb had ceased exploding I said good night and headed out. On the way home, I even resisted text messaging her, something I have a problem with at times. And it felt good.

So, I ended my evening with what little of Tony Bourdain that was left and with a few final text messages with Ms. Afternoon planning out some time to hang out Wednesday afternoon. Sweet dreams to me indeed.


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