I never watched concert videos before Him. I love going to concerts–the energetic vibe that infuses through the pores and into the blood stream right to the heart so your emotions and brain waves are one with the melodies. I miss that rush that only live music can bring. So I never rented concert dvds. I never thought it could be the same–and it’s not, but it invokes those emotions and maybe on a cold Spring night it’s the next best thing.
U2 Rattle and Hum is having that effect on me right now. I’ve heard the sound track. I’ve always loved the gospel version of Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For–after seeing it in the movie I love it even more. I never knew it was recorded in a real church. I always imagined it performed in some sort of outdoor amphitheater with a spot lights on the a white robed gospel choir. I was putting away laundry and had to stop in the middle of the room and watch. A smile grew wider as I realized what magic I was watching transforming in front of eyes.
The aesthetics of this film are amazing. The black and white interview footage and the bursts of color when U2 is performing in front of crowds of thousands around cities in the U.S.
God I miss early U2. They were genuinely soulful and passionate. They were young and strong.
I’m all for bands and musicians experimenting with sound–Wilco and Beck keep getting better and better, but U2–Vertigo begs mid-life crisis alterna-pop. It’s like nails on a chalk board, I get anxiety just thinking about that damn chorus. But I digress–early U2 is fucking amazing. It’s just that simple.
Time is ticking by so slow lately. Work days are long. My head is not there. I mentally slip out every couple of weeks. I think of finding new work. More money. More respect. But head is messed up with my heart right now. I admit it. I’m lonely. I’m bored. For the first time in 4 years I haven’t worked a second job or been in grad school. I go to the gym over lunch. I met up with a friend for drinks or dinner randomly on a week night, but most nights lately I come home, make dinner, watch TV, look online for inspiration or for a class to take. But it ends in frustration because I lack passion–well it’s not that I lack it, but I haven’t found it. Is it in a yoga or pottery class? I dream of taking an Italian language class but then I realize I hate learning a foreign languages, 8 years of Hebrew and I still can’t speak a full sentence. I’ve been feeling lost for a couple of months now. Since grad school ended and work has calmed down. Maybe that’s why I’m obsessing over things not working out with Him.
I called The Voice to tell him about it, Why can’t men commit? I asked. It was answered by his hearty laugh. I know all men all different, but I thought one 40 year old guy who never wants to get married and have children could advise me on another. He asked what I didn’t understand about the conversation with HIM, the one where he confessed that he likes hanging out with me but doesn’t want a label. The Voice said it started under different pretenses. Pretenses that are so unlike me. I don’t hook up. My friend Brad once told me that he could never see past a girlfriend he had because of the way they hooked up the first night, he couldn’t get past seeing her as just a piece of ass. It bothered me when he told me that story, but rings true now. The Voice, who knows I blame myself for things not working out, tried to reassure me it wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything wrong. But I always question things I said, or did not say. Things I did or could have done.
It just felt really good that first week. I had been craving affection and he gave it to more than I could have ever expected. He held me tight when laying down. He held my hand and pulled me to him while watching TV on the couch. We could of had fun for awhile, but it’s simply not me. I don’t know what my passion is, but I know that I need more out of life than just fun for awhile. I need to know that the person holding my hand is interested in a future. Whether that future is planning dinner or a movie for the weekend, or knowing that the person holding me wants more for his future than bachelordom. It just didn’t work out. I have to accept that and move on. But time ticks by so slowly that I feel stuck in the what ifs.
It was a blatant and sad attempt at connection. The text message: Buckley dvd is awesome. Thanks again for it. Truth was I had just put it on. He didn’t have to know that but I could answer basic questions if he happened to call back. He did not of course. Shouldn’t I have gotten it the other night when he went on and on about he always saw himself as free spirit? When he said he never imagined getting married and having kids? When he told me that he really likes hanging out with me, but doesn’t want to label it?
But then he lay my head upon his lap caressed my hair, back and ass. One moment he told me I was like a renaissance painting and the next I was the cute horny neighbor.
I don’t know how to do the friends with benefits thing when I don’t know if I would have quite called him a friend prior to 2 weeks ago. We were acquaintances. Neighbors. We had hung out a few times watching movies, talking about music, and getting high or sharing a bottle of wine. I wasn’t expecting the surprise of last week when we were together nearly every other night. I wasn’t expecting that I would come by last Friday night and he’d being laying in bed watching Charlie Rose. After hearing he was also a Terry Gross fan I got strangely turned on. We were finding out things about each other like he is allergic to perfume and I, well I can make a kick ass turkey panini at 1:30 in the a.m. And I find out what I had expected, that he likes being a lone bachelor while I need more.
I need some sort commitment. Some sort of check-in system so I know he is thinking of me. I need dinners and nights out doing cultural things or going to the movies. Most important, I need to know that it’s okay to stop things before I get more emotionally involved because while I do want to remain a free spirit, I want to share my life with someone. I want to find the person with whom I am meant to marry and have children with.
I just wanted one more night with him. One more night of watching concert DVD’s or old David Bowie videos while holding hands or giving each other foot massages. One more night of him playfully slapping and telling me what a cute ass I have. Laying close together arms and legs entwined breathing peacefully while listening to his heart beat. After he kissed me at the door and I was alone in my own bed I would tell myself that was the last time we’d be together. I’d believe it for a second and then probably make up more lies to tell myself.
Last night as we were watching Two for the Road Audrey Hepburn appeared on screen screen in a bright dress. I gasped, “I’ve never seen anyone look so breathtaking in yellow.” I couldn’t help but comment on almost every outfit she wore, how adorably tiny she is, how perfect her eyes and hair are. But I was carried away by the yellow dress. “Serioulsy! Most women cannot pull off yellow!”
Today while shopping I came across the perfect yellow spring dress. It’s a soft yellow v-neck with a wide grey ribbon just above the waist and at the hem. It’s that perfect blend of modern bohemian with a delicate embroider of grey flowers. I didn’t hesitate and brought it right to the fitting room. It was perfect. I channeled my inner Hepburn and thought to myself it must take confidence to wear yellow. With out hesitation I brought it straight to the register.
“So, did you get your shoes?” Lucia asked me yesterday morning. I pulled her into an empty office by the elbow. “Nope. They’re still at his place. We talked last night for a bit, but we stayed in our respective beds.” Sunday night we were hanging out at his place. It started out innocent enough. We’d done this before–sat around talking about music watching concert DVD’s or TV. Then I moved out of the chair and sat next to him on the couch to show him photos off my lap top. Next thing I know there was snuggling. There was snogging. There was massaging. There was relief. He confessed he’s liked me for a long time–even remembers seeing me in the building for the first time almost 4 years ago. He checked out my ass as I cursed and bent over to pick up the dropped keys. I was taken aback with hearing I had been admired from afar (yet steps away). Intimate whispers and kisses lasted most of the night. My heart is swollen with the sweetness of it all.