Secret Pop

Sep 20, 2001

No peace for pretty girls

Don't get me wrong. It's great to have people want to talk to you and tell you you are attractive -- lovely, even. I have nothing but gratitude for people like that, no matter the situation. It always makes my day. And it's not as if it happens every day. It's just nice when it does. One night, outside of Brian's on Washington, a guy proposed to me as I was getting out of my car. I wondered how he was able to make a commitment so quickly. How he was able to learn so much about my soul and my dreams just watching me step out of my car as I fumbled with the earpiece to my cell phone and the seatbelt. He also let me know, when he sensed that I might not be ready to take such a big step right then and there, not knowing his name and all, that he would be willing to just call me. He said he was leaving the country in two weeks to go to Japan and could he call me. I know I didn't muster much in the way of finesse, but I did eventually manage to get inside the coffee shop and meet my friends who, when told of the proposal, asked what kind of car he drove. "He was on foot, " I said. That was the apex of the story, I think.

Anyway, tonight, after comedy rehearsal -- what may be my last for some time to come or forever, depending on how things go -- I decided I wasn't quite ready to go home and face the mountain of freelance writing work that awaits me, so I took a detour over to the Living Room, bought a vanilla Italian soda, and sat on a rather firm and uncozy-like sofa to write in my little notebook and unburden my soul. A guy sat down next to me shortly after I parked it, and he was reading quietly to himself. Eventually, he asked me if I was writing in a diary. Conversation ensued, revealing that he loves Peter Sellers movies and is a musician and writes for the music scene and any number of other little interesting things that make him seem someone worth befriending. So, befriend, I did. We talked for about an hour, and then I had to break away to get home and stop shirking my responsibilities. But I made a new friend and am pleased about that. It's always amazing to me how easy it is. I wonder what it will be like in L.A. If everyone will be cold and fake. Or if there will be genuine, interesting people who will ask me questions and be interested in hearing my answers. If there will be nice waiters who remember me from the last time I came in. If there will be baristas at the coffee houses who know how I take my lattes. It's about time I had a neighborhood. And neighbors to match. I feel as if I have been keeping to myself for so long. Mostly because of circumstance and where I have lived, but also because I immersed myself in coupledom and left little energy or time for other versions of human interaction. I am not on the hunt for coupledom right now. I can single out the parts of it that I miss now. And I can also categorically name the parts that were toxic. In my relationships to date, I have displayed characteristics that can be loosely linked to those of a vampire, I think. I can only see my reflection in someone else's eyes. I can only find sustenance outside myself. Of course, there hasn't been any measurable amount of blood-sucking, so the analogy sort of falls apart. But I do wear a lot of black, and I enjoy sleeping in.

I'm glad I made a new friend tonight. I'm glad I'm still capable of friendly human interaction. I'm not glad that I got so little of the writing I had planned done. But it's a small price to pay and perhaps proof that I shouldn't go to public venues if I really want to get work done.

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