objective
On Tuesday night, I told my co-workers about Clerk, just enough to explain why I'd fled the office last Friday. The team, four men and one woman, starts teasing me. I am closest to S, whom I have already told about the impending parent-meeting.
S urges me, "Go on. Tell them about the important thing."
I explain, "I'm meeting hiss parents, but, you know, maybe he just needed somewhere to stay."
The guys each chime in with various explanations.
One says, "Well, he wants to stay with you, so that he can sleep with you, and he asked you to dinner to protect your feelings."
Even S teases, "What you should do, is say, 'Thanks, I'll pass on dinner, but would love to see you, so why don't you come by afterwards? ' That's the power play. Then you're saying you don't want the serious relationship, but that you just want the play.'"
The partner, ever earnest, says, "Well, I think it's great that he's coming to New York and that he wants to stay with you." (Later, the same partner says that if he could only have dinner with one person alive or dead, he would pick Jesus. S picks a famous DJ, and I pick Madonna.)
We argue, jokingly, but I can feel my heart pounding. I gulp my wine. "Ha ha, that's really the signal I want to send," I say. I am both irritated and relieved when we change topics.
Two days later, I say to S, "I don't think I'm going to tell the team about ___ anymore." He asks why, and I say, slowly, "I just don't think I want their opinions. I just..." and tears come to my eyes. I look away.
S apologizes, "Oh, I'm sorry. You know I was just giving you a hard time."
I recover. "I know, I know. I don't know why I'm so upset about it."
S studies me. "You know, you sound very objective when you talk about him. You don't let on how much you like him."
I smile ruefully. "I know. "
S urges me, "Go on. Tell them about the important thing."
I explain, "I'm meeting hiss parents, but, you know, maybe he just needed somewhere to stay."
The guys each chime in with various explanations.
One says, "Well, he wants to stay with you, so that he can sleep with you, and he asked you to dinner to protect your feelings."
Even S teases, "What you should do, is say, 'Thanks, I'll pass on dinner, but would love to see you, so why don't you come by afterwards? ' That's the power play. Then you're saying you don't want the serious relationship, but that you just want the play.'"
The partner, ever earnest, says, "Well, I think it's great that he's coming to New York and that he wants to stay with you." (Later, the same partner says that if he could only have dinner with one person alive or dead, he would pick Jesus. S picks a famous DJ, and I pick Madonna.)
We argue, jokingly, but I can feel my heart pounding. I gulp my wine. "Ha ha, that's really the signal I want to send," I say. I am both irritated and relieved when we change topics.
Two days later, I say to S, "I don't think I'm going to tell the team about ___ anymore." He asks why, and I say, slowly, "I just don't think I want their opinions. I just..." and tears come to my eyes. I look away.
S apologizes, "Oh, I'm sorry. You know I was just giving you a hard time."
I recover. "I know, I know. I don't know why I'm so upset about it."
S studies me. "You know, you sound very objective when you talk about him. You don't let on how much you like him."
I smile ruefully. "I know. "
posted 4:44 PM
1 Comments:
At 6:19 AM,
Anonymous said…
it's tricky: in the "in-betweens" of relationships you want to be casual and calm, AND simultaneously vigilant in your preparation for sudden bursts of intensity and possibility. yeah…that’s not normal. let the tears come – a small gift to the gods as you play the olympics of emotional management.
annie dillard writes about our quest for “the pole of relative inaccessibility” – its technical definition is still a metaphor: that imaginary point on the arctic ocean farthest from land in any direction. we know it exists because we search for it, move towards it, sacrifice in its name…if we gave up on the pole, there’d be no quest. no adventure. but there’s a price.
love you, c.
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