Curious Cases

So the new boy and I had some excellent plans for New Year’s–sit by the fire, drink champagne and chow on shrimp cocktail. I was completely content with this option and pleased that he didn’t seem to have any interest in painting the town red. He had to work New Year’s Eve, so I felt obliged to do what I thought to be was most of the leg work–buying the champagne and such.

As I stood in the aisle at the jam packed liquor store, I was starting to feel slightly annoyed. Our festivities were at HIS digs, so why was I starting to feel like I was throwing the “party”? Was I yet again going to end up with another guy who lets me to do ALL the work and was I yet again going to be the primary romance maker???? And boy, all that thinking was starting to p— me off a little!

I called him from the liquor store to ask if he had champagne glasses. I was considering buying two, even if he already had some. I wasn’t keen on sharing the libation with him out of glasses he likely used with his ex-wife. His reply to my call was yet another reassurance. All was well, he had bought some on the drive home from work. I stifled my annoyance and reminded myself that this guy was and is so different from all the rest, and that I just needed to start truly trusting in that.

I trucked all of the party stuff into my car and drove out to his house. As I pulled into the driveway and started unpacking the bags of goodies, annoyance crept in again, “Where WAS he and why wasn’t he helping me with the bags?” I lugged the bags through the snow and up to his front door. I could see his shadow waiting for me at the door as he hid behind it and opened it. What that door opened to was possibly one of the most romantic sights I’ve ever witnessed–the fireplace was blazing, as were nearly two dozen votive candles in delicate glass candle holders…for me.

For ME?

Yeah. For me.

Dumby me was so taken aback, I curtly said something stupid like, “oh wow.” The truth was, if I had said more or even looked at him instead of petting his dog, I would have probably broken down into a bumbling mess of grateful tears.

Before this experience, I didn’t wholeheartedly believe in fate or serendipity . I believed that life certainly had more than a few strange and miraculous unexplainable occurrences…Yet I still found myself thinking that everything and everyone we come in contact with was pretty random…and pure chance. This past year has given me ample evidence to believe in the unbelievable–that maybe, just maybe every random act we take part in can lead us to where we’re “meant to be.” I won’t go into detail, since some things aren’t necessary for others to know or hear, but I will say there are more than a few serendipitous things about Mr. Dreamy that are positively unexplainable… unless you believe in fate.

Probability or serendipity aside, I’m so grateful that I’ve found someone who’s loving me back with an equal fire. Adoration reciprocated tastes so much sweeter than the roller coaster and half-a–ed lovin’ that I willingly accepted in the past.

I realize that the blissful infatuation stage isn’t going to last forever and that somewhere along the line we’re bound to find a few challenges. But man, this euphoria sure is a nice place to start.

On a side note, we saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button last night. The flick was slow moving (and THREE hours long), but had me in tears during the last few scenes. Here’s a memorable quote:

“For what it’s worth, it’s never too late, or in my case too early, to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit… start whenever you want… you can change or stay the same. There are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. I hope you see things that stop you. I hope you feel things that you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life that you’re proud of and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”

The bottom line for me: you just don’t KNOW what life has in store for you. And when you think you’ve finally reached the end of your rope, there’s always, always a lifeline; always something unpredictable that can and will change everything.

Here’s to
all the poor choices,
all the triumphs,
all the heart ache,
all the unrequited crushes,
all the bad dates,
all the unreturned calls,
all the rally cries,
all the bottles of Shiraz,
all the efforts to being okay alone,
and all the courage mustered for an unpredictable chance.

When Friends Let Friends Listen to Joni

My best friend in the world is going through a tough time right now. She hasn’t really discussed it with me, which I know from years of experience means one thing: she’s ready to crack.

This girl is the savior who turned me on to Joni Mitchell 12 years ago, after we debated which was a better lay for James Taylor–Carly Simon or Joni Mitchell. At the time I vehemently argued that Carly was, until L. made me a Joni mix tape. A few rounds of Blue, Court and Spark, and For The Roses convinced me that not only was Joni likely a better lay, but also a better musician and songwriter. From that point on I was indebted to L.

Unfortunately, we still live miles and miles away from each other, so offering company, a bottle of Cabernet and/or excessive amounts of Belgian beer and cranking Joni (which usually turns into a classic rock trivia game involving Joni, Zeppelin, The Who, The Beatles, etc.) is a little out of the question. Normally I would have picked up the phone, but this time I opted for the most reliable source known: Joni. I emailed an mp3 of Lesson in Survival, a song that I always think of when things overall suck:

Lesson in Survival
Spinning out on turns
That gets you tough

There are times when I really feel like my friends are far better to me than I am to them; that I don’t do enough to show gratitude for their ears and hearts. I forget birthdays and anniversaries. I usually never have enough money to buy their kids the gifts I’d like to. Anything involving a greeting card takes me two weeks to send, by which time, the life event has passed. My internal debate/excuse is, “Well, I BOUGHT the card a month before the event. I just didn’t know what to write without sounding saccharine or fake for four weeks.” This excuse flies in my own brain, but doesn’t go over so well with friends who know that I have a degree in English and write for a hobby. My rebuttal is usually pretty simple: it’s HARD writing for or to people you care about!

And then there are other times and other friends who get it; who know how much I do care. This one got it and sent me the best email I’ve received in ages, “…how do you always know what’s going on in my head?”