The Post in Which I Am Suddenly an Awkward Dorky Sixth Grader Again

Why is it that when you want to see someone you can never seem to find them, but when you don't want to see them (or rather know it is not in your best interest to see them right now) you practically trip over them crossing the street? Just when I was perhaps beginning to feel the slightest hint of letting go, I have run into Mr. Emotionally Unavailable three times within one week; difficult would be a gross understatement here.

The first time was after the Saturday Union Square petitioning with the Ladies. The Ladies' founder, I'll call her Lady Alice after her heroine Alice Paul, and I went for margaritas after the petitioning and I told her a brief version of the whole Mr. EU story. We were getting ready to go, and I was on the other side of the outdoor section having a cigarette and still talking to Lady Alice when I noticed a barely discernable shape in the receeded doorway of the next building out of the corner of my eye. My stomach suddenly decided it no longer wished to be in its proper place and lurched full speed into a free fall from depth defying heights towards my knees, alerting me that Mr. EU must be nearby. I have this weird ability to sense when he's within a half a block radius of me, even if I don't see him; its part of the insane sexual attraction we have (which is exactly why I can't see him right now - we have a hard time being anywhere near eachother without having to immediately shed all clothing and screw like rabbits on ecstasy). Lady Alice gathered up our things and was exiting through the restaraunt to come meet me outside, and I decided to sneak a peek in the general vicinity of the receeded doorway to see if he was in fact lurking nearby. I barely caught the quickest of glimpses but knew without a doubt that the shadowy figure was indeed him. Everything stopped for one infinitesimally tiny second; I had one foot pointed towards Mr. EU and one towards Lady Alice and I wanted more than anything else in the world to run to Mr. EU and throw myself into his arms but knew I should run to Lady Alice instead. I realized that nothing at all would be accomplished but further hurt if I ran towards Mr. EU, so I turned on my heel and fled to Lady Alice, frantically motioning for her to come closer in the most unsubtle of gestures. She approached and asked what was wrong. I told her that I just saw Mr. EU, and she said "Okay, we're going to walk in the other direction now, okay?" And I replied, "Yes, we're going to walk in the other direction" with about as much conviction as someone in a coma. But we did. I turned around and left, which while seemingly an immature decision, was definitely the best one for the moment. I'm not ready to be his friend yet; its way too fresh and the risk of falling back into old patterns is way too great.

The second time I saw him was last Wednesday, after the NARAL and Planned Parenthood rally in Union Square. I met an old college friend who just moved here from Chicago for dinner, and we since we were in the area we went to the East Village (also because its the cheapest neighborhood to eat out in). We were leaving the restaurant and heading to go get some ice cream when guess who should be crossing the street in the opposite direction but Mr. Emotionally Unavailable himself. I knew that I couldn't simply run away, so I looked right at him to acknowledge him and smile, but he never looked once at me. He either genuinely didn't see me, which I would think it kind of hard not to notice someone you've been sleeping with for the last year and a half when they're crossing the street a width of two people wide close to you, or he completely ignored me. At the time I took it as intentionally ignoring me, which hurt my feelings greatly. I mean, its one thing to run away like a coward, but a whole other to ignore. Somehow the latter is a far greater offense in my book. Besides, its me that's hurt, not him. I'm allowed to run away; he's not.

So Saturday night I meet up with My Little Vidipookikins after spending the day with Lady Paul protesting at a Code Pink event and then taking care of Ladies' business (ie a planning brunch where we got totally sloshed beyond belief and then running drunkenly around the city buying Ladies' hats and material to sew sashes with). She cooked me a lovely little dinner (no MAH, it was not Hot WP) after letting me nap off an approaching hangover, and I told her the whole story of running into him the previous two times. After dinner we decided to take a walk in the park, and specifically chose not to go to Tompkins Square Park so as not to run into him a third time. Instead we went to Washington Square Park and were venturing towards the free karaoke (aka the regular hippie jam circle that hangs out there) when all of a sudden I got that weird feeling again and took a closer look at the crowd into which we were heading. Of course we were heading straight towards Mr. EU and some girl he was with. I became inexplicably paralyzed and couldn't utter a single word; all I could do was frantically tug at My Little Vidipookikins' sleeve repeatedly while she chattered on obliviously. She finally realized what was going on, recognizing his tall stooping frame, and in one single outrageously blaring gesture she whirled me in the other direction not-so-subtlely dragging me to the other side of the park where we proceeded to repeat the phrases "What the fuck?" and "I can't believe that!" for approximately the next 20 minutes or so.

I then began to feel like quite the pre-pubescent middle schooler, reminding me of the time in sixth grade when I was terrified of boys but was "going with" this kid Mr. Mullet (it was 6th grade, okay? Gimme a break!) in my gym class. We were walking the track, huddled in our respective sexually segregated (by choice and awkwardness not policy) groups, when out of nowhere Mr. Mullet appears and suddenly my girls flee the scene, leaving the two of us [insert gasp of horror!] alone. We exchanged a few phrases that might pass for conversation in an autistic children's home, and then he put his arm around me. I panicked. My little sixth grade innocent and terrified brain just couldn't handle this simple gesture and I ran. Yes folks, my tendency towards fleeing began long long ago. But the thing was I had nothing to run away from; this wasn't an avowal of eternal love or an attempt at getting in my pants, it was a mere innocuous gesture of affection and I stupidly ran. I was so incredibly embarassed by this pathetically uncool display of fear atht I invented this elaborate lie about an out of town boyfriend and feelings of guilt. I never got to tell that lie because he broke up with me the next day (via a note, of course, which is how the whole affair began..."will you 'go with' me? check yes or no..."), and with good reason too. I'm still slightly embarassed about having run away...18 years later!

And there I was, in Washington Square Park, doing a slightly modified version of the same thing.

But I just don't feel ready to see him yet. Even the mere sight of him sets the emotional roller coaster into motion, and I feel all confused and discombobulated. It may not be incredibly mature to run like Brave Sir Robin, but I don't really know how else to react. I'm pretty sure running is better than bursting into spontaneous sobbing or screaming or any other emotional outburst. I know for certain that its better than a swan dive right back into his bed, which is, I suppose, my very real and tangible fear.

I'd like to think that I am a mature, intelligent and highly capable independent womyn who can handle anything....but some things just turn you right back into an awkward bumbling sixth grader just trying to learn the rules.