There’s an old tale told of the night the titanic went down.
As it’s told, on that evening, as the boat was sinking, and people are jumping overboard, there was a group of people re-arranging the furniture. Like this boat is going down, and this group of people the best they could do in that moment was to rearrange the furniture.
That story popped into my head a few nights ago, as I was for the millionth time, trying to figure out what to do with my couch/table/etc in my living room. And the thought that is the loudest when I’m doing this is ‘I am so over this.’ I’m over the white walls and white cabinets that I cant change. I want to paint the walls warm grey’s and blues, I want to spend an entire paycheck at restoration hardware on a big beautiful brown leather chair, a rustic overhead light, and a dinner that we cook together to celebrate nothing more than it’s a tuesday. A chair that fits us in flannel shirts , bare-feet, and 2 mason jars of red wine. Fire. Favorite songs play, and everyone fits. Dog hair, don’t care. Making out. Lots of that. Chocolate for dessert. Going to bed after sharing what we’re grateful for, so aware how close my heart is to theirs. Moose in the middle. Sleeping through the night and not waking up once.
I dragged my couch all over the living room. ‘it doesn’t fit’ ‘that looks stupid’ ‘I’m over this.’ I have decided it’s the space, that it’s small and oddly set-up, that it faces the wrong way, the way the light comes through in the morning, but not in the afternoon, and I keep wishing it was different…because it’s never the morning I need to reminded of light. I keep throwing things out. Donating large bags of everything, frustrated at things, and wanting more all at once.
I’ve been so drawn to brick and wood and metal, and I want to spend days running my hands over surfaces with history. If there’s no story, I’m just not interested. If it’s a pre-fab cabinet that’s in one million homes, I’m practically insulted. When did the history of something stop being important. And well, when did I get so righteous. But it goes for people too…I only want to be around people with smile lines, and passports. Belly laughs and outward beauty. no makeup. no cover-up.….I’d rather stare at a white cabinet than just see part of you. And for you, I’ll do the same. My history as it was, and then I met you.
And then I met you, and everything changed, are words I am dying to say.
Paul and I broke up just about 4 months ago. I haven’t been on a single date, and haven’t really cared too. I do solo, really really well. Lately, my wanderlust has hit me HARD. Back-pack, sunglasses, cash. I just want to go. I want to spend evenings around an old farm table with candlelight and strangers who become forever friends in one night at a small local restaurant with fresh lobster and cold beer, people who want to, and have, seen the world. I want to dance till 4 in the morning, in a short dress and messy bun, a combination of sweat and salt water. Alive with the sound of language around me, accents and history, and no one giving a shit that they can’t understand the words. Because lets get real, the words don’t matter.
Tired and mildly pissed off. I left my couch in the middle of the room for a few days, confusing Moose, and leaving me to continue to stare at this couch every time I walk into the room. It’s now back to where it started…and in many ways, so am I.
Lately I’ve been craving the wild and wonderful of partnership again. The second person to rest into in a big leather chair, trading off who makes coffee in the morning, those first, second, 50th dates where you lean in close over dinner, fascinated by everything about this person.
But instead, I day-dream about leaving. Always.
The thing is, life is really good. Better, richer, fuller, than it’s ever every been. But once you start realizing how amazing life can be, it can become a little tricky. I wonder what’s in this well…under this rock…behind her smile? Like that. My best moments are the ones when I am still totally full of wonder, but getting just how good it is…how far I’ve come.
You can see then where the universe is like, um no, not yet.
This week alone, I’ve been ‘almost’ asked out, literally 5 times. 5. All from people I would TOTALLY go eat pizza with.
On Tuesday, I was walking Moose, and I pass 3-super-tall, handsome men. I’m in my usual uniform, yoga pants, tank, hat (life is better on the water) hat. Naturally, most people will want to talk to a cute girl, with a cute dog, duh. That and, I’m always down to talk to strangers.
The one guy though…I mean, he was pretty hot.
When I saw him, my heads said this ‘oh hELLLOOOOOO’ but I managed to say this, ‘oh, hello.’ (play it cool, Fryer).
So I’m chatting, and they’re funny, and they’re making comments about my hat, and ask me if I’m a professional surfer, to which I say, not only am I that, but I am also a competitive kayaker, so I really better be going….summer Olympics to train for and all. #sochi
As I walk away, I can totally tell they’re talking about me, and the two friends are all ‘man, don’t be an idiot, go get her number, etc etc’ and so I, work the Moose-card, and encourage him to sniff things for longer periods of time…and it worked.
‘Excuse me’ — I turn around, it’s the hot one.
I flash a giant smile, decide not to play it cool, when I’m happy, I’m happy. ‘Yes?’
‘I was just wondering about your availability….’
Me….looking confused, but knowing what he was going for….offer confused face.
‘Um like, if you’re single or not’
I say, ‘oh, I am 100% single’
Hot guy smiles. ‘oh good.’
It got somewhat confusing in the about 15 minutes or so from there. Because then the friend comes over, I think to help the hot one that was kinda like losing his game in a hurry, and I couldn’t tell who was asking me out. But rest assured, it all gets sorted out, and I end up talking to Garrett (the hot one) for a while, he gets my phone number (good step), pets moose (necessary to be in my life), and also is pretty hilarious (non-negotiable).
He asks me the whole ‘what nationality are you’ question, which my friends and I call this ‘name that asian’ but I get that it’s kinda challenging to figure it out. And he goes. ‘oh wow’ which is a pretty common response by the way, because it’s a whole lotta everything (Korean, German, French). He goes ‘well you’re beautiful’ ‘and then he walks over to give me a side hug, drapes his arm around me (he’s probably like 6’ 2, or 6’ 3) ‘You’re fun-sized’ we both smile, I can honestly say I’ve never heard that before. ‘And voluptuious’ He goes, ‘you must get everything you want, huh’
We banter back and forth for a while, I find out he’s in medical school, 30, loves to play basketball, and is a quarter black, and three quarters Italian. Translation: hot, smart, not 25, AND athletic, hubba. hubba. So I close down the convo He gets my number and we part ways. As I’m walking down the sidewalk, I look back and he’s ducking his head back around the corner ‘just wanted to make sure you’re real’ he shouts. Smiles. Walks away.
Well I don’t know what happened, but he hasn’t called.
This is one of 5 almost stories from this week. This was the best one, so I thought I’d share.
I am putting out almost.
I am almost.
I am almost making many choices, but not making any of them.
I am almost moving all my work over to a website, but not yet.
I am almost saying things out loud, but changing my mind because I am afraid.
I am almost booking a vacation, but instead I am working.
I am almost sending you that email I said I would.
I am almost adding a 5th mile onto my run instead of going home and eating a burrito.
I am almost doing handstand in the middle of the room.
I am almost meditating longer than 20 minutes.
I am almost saying the words out loud that scare the shit out of me.
I almost have my dream job, but not quite.
I am almost saying yes, instead of staying home.
I am always almost, always leaving.
Almost is such a drag. It’s a non-stop cold shower. It’s powerless and cowardly. It’s the opposite of progress. It’s an all consuming stand-still. A freaking spiritual traffic jam.
I have a strong feeling that these next 6 months will reveal something powerful and beautiful to me. Offer letter signed, paycheck spent on a single chair, dancing not with strangers at 4am, but the person I love the most, the person I cant imagine not loving for the rest of my life. The work I cant imagine not doing, the team that reminds me to be brave , the dog that reminds me to go for a walk and leave my phone at home. I’ll be the only thing getting in the way of that. What do I want? And then am I willing to do everything it takes to get it.
Am I willing to be vulnerable. Am I willing to slow DOWN. Am I willing to trust.
Yes and no, which equals almost.
So yes. Or no. But not both.
My friend has this quote at the bottom of her email, and it gets me every time…
‘I imagine that yes is the only living thing’ ee cummings.
I am imagine that YES is the only living thing.
The only living thing.
Of which all else is born.
Step 2…what am I saying yes to.
Stay tuned : )