The dark yet bustling atmosphere of LGO is hardly the place I wanted to have this talk. But it seems like the noise will be adequate in drowning out most of what I have to say to prying, gossip hungry ears. I brought Katie out to a wine tasting with a few friends, she’s a confidant and a best friend and there’s nearly nothing romantic between us anymore. It’s just that spark, you see. That spark that happens when you get two insightful and active minds together that are so used to playing off of one another, like when you remember the lyrics to a song you haven’t heard in years. All it takes is starting that tune.
“I don’t really know what it is about her.” I begin, after the small talk has dried up. “I tend to find myself in these circumstances a lot, and my usual approach is to cut and run. I know this about myself.” I tried to imbue this with a sense of acceptance, having made peace with my own shortcomings a long time ago. I never had a guru to follow, but I know my limits and my struggles and I’ll take them over anyone else’s.
There’s an old story, I think it’s a Jewish parable but I could be making that up. The story speaks of the Suffering Tree, a tree that appears to all men as the end of the world nears. They are invited to take all of the burdens that have weighed them down and hang them on a branch of the tree. They then circle the tree, together, and are invited to choose another man’s troubles to replace their own. And as they circle the tree, the men grab their own burdens and continue along their way to God with what they know and what they’ve learned to bear. We take with us our own faults and our own failures, and I see no reason not to own up to them in life as well. She knows this; she wouldn’t ever argue I was being to hard on myself.
I know she won’t focus on the tone, and will take it for what it is because it’s a dance we’ve done before. The conversation had started innocently enough, with a small question and answer session about work and what we see in the world today. A big part of why we can talk so freely with one another is we make quick work of exhausting the common and the mundane. But eventually we get down to the thick of things: one or the other asks how things are with the opposite sex, usually resulting in getting to the entire reason we came out here today. It helps when there’s booze, and I freely admit this. There’s no conversation that can’t use a little clarity and courage, and the wine tasting seemed like a good enough excuse as any.
So I took the chance, and brought up the girl. The new one. The one that’s in some ways very like the ones before, but in some ways so unlike what I normally go for. I continued. “But for one reason or another, I find this one seems to be holding on. I mean, worth holding onto. I think I want to see where this one leads.”
Having bit her tongue with patience, this is usually where she gets to wind up her engine and slap me with some knowledge. I can see it in her eyes, a thought process beginning to brew. Even though she didn’t have all of the answers, she knows well enough to help say the things she’d want to hear were she in this situation. And that’s why this thing works, this confidence and wine.
“What about her makes her stick on? Is it purely scientific, or is there an X Factor that you think she’s bringing to the table; something there hasn’t been before?” she expanded, making sure to hit upon a few phrases she clearly knew would add kindling to my inner turmoil.
“I’m not entirely sure, again, but there’s something different. I always wanted a girl who was worth saving, to be the one who could save her. But I think it’s saving me some effort if I can start with a girl who is pure already, someone I don’t have to save. Someone who can, it would seem, save me.” I see her eyes dart as they follow the train of thought. I struggle, sometimes, at getting what I want to say to sound to others how it sounds in my head.
“So what you’re saying is she’s innocent, she’s a safe choice? That hardly seems fair. You just don’t want to let her go by and see it as a mistake to have placed a different bet.”
I knew what she was getting at. I mean, I can’t let it piss me off, but I knew she’d go after this point hard. I had a history of struggle with the idea of settling and I don’t think this is the same thing. A long time ago there was the common misconception that I was waiting for the right one, the one that excited me to the point that I couldn’t sit idly by. I believed this to be true, and made it apparent to others that I couldn’t be bothered unless she was the one. Over the years I discovered that many, if not nearly all, of them were exciting in some degree. Too many, in fact, so many that I had a hard time choosing. Unfortunately by this point I’d thrown to the wayside many whom would have been seen as suitable. Who could have been great. Mistakes, as she knows I’m reluctant to call them, that could have been avoided if I’d made safer choices and not risked it all for the seemingly impossible dream.
“It’s not that she’s safe, though she is and I think that’s purely dependent upon context. But it’s not only that she’s safe, but as I said it’s because she’s not some troubled soul I have to save. So it’s not the safety, it’s the not saving.” Struggling again.
Usually my wordplay was evident even in my rambling, inane points. It’s a skill learned over years of late night movie talk where points were made and awarded by the strongest phrasing. The wine wasn’t helping either. We both glanced around and at a few televisions as she thought. It usually took a second to decipher what I was saying, but this was different. This seemed to be a process of morals in her head, one I knew all to well. She’s asking herself if she could give advice she herself was reluctant to follow? It gets harder as the years go by to give advice, mostly because you fear your tactics haven’t been doing you so much good at all. How could they possibly be anything but sabotage to another?
“Seems to me…” she started and paused. This was a point made in an air that meant finality. If Katie was going to help me with wisdom and sage and at any point appear to have even and inkling of what she was doing, this was when she intended to do it.
“The way I see it is this: it’s clear that you’re indecisive about this girl. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe indecisive is a step up from the common dismissal you’ve made a trade art of. But there’s another side to this coin, another opinion and decisiveness that matters: hers. In order to be scared about where this could lead, you have to know whether or not she’s willing to lead it there with you. So talk with her about it, talk with her about what you think could be worth talking about. Maybe it’s much ado about nothing, or maybe it’s the push you need. Just… talk.”
Wine and confidence, it’s all it takes to remind you just how unintelligent and yet brilliant we all are. Public education clearly failed us, but there’s a wealth of knowledge just innately born within as a result of our pilgrimage on the road of life. And if we can’t provide answers for ourselves, and God knows none of us can half the time, we can help take our experience and offer it as a source of advice for others. There’s something to be said about having a guide, someone to tell you the answers in life they’ve only just discovered. But for those who lack the sometimes enviable but often discomforting blinders of pure faith, having someone to walk it with you is the next best thing.
