1.05.2005

Tainted Love: Take my Tears...

It's a grey day in New York City. From my 4th floor window I can see the Leggo-shaped rooftops with their jagged perpindicularity of chimneys, fences, and everything else that sits atop these tired Brooklyn brownstones. A multi-drabbed horizon of uneven brick, some sagging, some painted with advertisements for the Laundry King, stretches away from me and the leafless tree in the lot across the street. Children's shrill voices calling each other bounce off the buildings signalling that school is out. And I know that today is the day. I will finish what I began so long ago, way back in October. The story starts here and moves in a backwards narrative. Some readers have anxiously waited. Some have demanded that I finish the story so they can sleep again. And today I say to them, "Ok."

That city down south beckoned, ok, not really. My best friend asked me to fly down there to join her for a concert, the Moz show. At this point I had already seen the concert 4 times this year. Some of you may remember from such posts as "That joke isn't funny" and "I lost my new Moz boyfriend" not to be confused with "A love letter to Morrissey". Four times this year. So I had no good reason to drop some cash on a plane ticket to see him again. Except. Except he was playing the Tabernacle and the cheaper tickets were open admission, standing room on the floor. We could get up close this time. So close. Those groupies wouldn't know what hit em by the time me and my friend made our way through to the front. We were punks once. We knew our way around a pit. These sappy little Mozzers didn't stand a chance. Ha! So I went.

She met me at the airport then drove us downtown. She was so excited. I wasn't so excited anymore because the depression had too great a hold on me. I knew I didn't have the capacity to enjoy anything. But she wanted to see the show with me so I mustered all the will I could just to get myself to JFK. I had nothing left over for excitement. In fact, I missed my flight because I slept too late, she had to talk me into catching another one. So I barely made it at all.

The dusky polluted light came from the western sky. I hadn't seen that much sky in awhile. Maybe it was 6:30 when we arrived. We had a good place in line, just half-way up the block. Stragglers were slow in coming which surprised us. Steff watched the people around us, commenting on the good looking men. I didn't care about them but I looked when she directed my attention. She found a new one. "ohhheewww. He's cute! You've got to look at this one. Yum!"

I glanced over my shoulder at the tall lanky guy with the dark buzzed hair and glasses walking to the line. Something in me cringed. He was cute, but. "He looks too much like George. I can't look at him." Steff sounded impressed, "Really? Wow. Well, I get it. That really sucks for you. I'm sorry." I looked back over my shoulder again, "Yep. Looks a lot like him." I shivered. She asked, "Is it him?" What? "Oh. No. George has red hair and he's not that skinny. And he doesn't wear glasses like that." It couldn't be him. She nodded. "Ok. Did you see the nasty girl he is with? How did she get that?"

I had seen her. I said, "It looks like she might be his little sister. He's not acting like he's with her." She disagreed, "No, can't be. She's been hanging onto his arm. Sisters don't do that." True. The tall boy had moved to the edge of the sidewalk and sat on the wall. The girl was still standing, keeping their place in line. She was one of those girls we hate. All little and mousy, with no style and greasy hair. Bland. Lightish straightish brownish shoulder-length hair. Khaki colored pants and a thrift-store orange sweater over a clashing t-shirt. Not clashing in a cool way. She wore round wire-rim glasses and no make-up. She probably wore patchouli oil.

Steff asked again, "She is so ugly. How did she get that?" This time I answered. "The same way they all do. She played the helpless feeble fragile little girl routine. The 'oh please save me, I'm just a drowning kitten in the rain, you big strong fine man you.' And when that fails they play dirty." Directly proportional to their level of attractiveness comes the cunning. The girls who 'forgot' to take the pill, or tell any lying story or manipulative ploy because they don't want to be alone. We both got angry. I thought about George. And how some girl convinced him to live with her as a roommate and a few months later got him to marry her. Some wench like that one over there. These weren't kind thoughts, definitely not Christian thoughts. I was unhappy and here was this sniveling mouse standing behind me with a man who looked like the one I had lost.

My friend said she needed to go to the facilities and left me for a few minutes. I sat down on the wall and continued to wait. The boy was still sitting on the wall a few feet from me. Now that I faced the street, I could clearly see the girl. She looked at me. So I looked at her. She stared. I turned away and felt ashamed for my mean thoughts. She must have seen us looking at them. But I had only glanced a couple times. It was Steff who had stared unabashedly. And now Steff was gone. I looked at her again. She glared at me and scowled. What? What was up with that? It was totally uncalled for. Yet she continued. I couldn't figure out what her problem was unless . . . Was that her? If that is George then he would've recognized me and told her who I was. Being the last girlfriend before her and the one she had to take him away from meant she could only hate me. This girl here, on this sidewalk, hated me. And she wanted me to know it. She lifted her left hand up to touch her hair and I saw a small wedding ring. Gulp. They're married? --

It started getting darker. The girl shivered and said something to the boy. He stood up reluctantly and went to her. He said, "You're cold?" and put his arms around her and kissed the back of her head. On his outstretched arms I saw big black fresh tattoos. That wasn't him, George had no tattoos, but these were new. I hadn't seen him in a year and a half though. But this guy was too pale and pasty. He could dye his hair and get tattoos but he couldn't make his freckles go away. Unless he stayed out of the sun. No. That was not George. His face was different. Ok, that was settled.

My friend returned and I told her what happened, with the staring and the ring. She said the girl must have seen us looking at her. Sure. I could tell she didn't believe it either. Shortly after this the doors opened and we walked forward to wait for the security frisk. Duly handled, we went inside and then through to the floor. We rushed to get as close as we could. We were 2 people away from the stage barrier. Steff started chatting with the women in front of us and the drinking man next to us. I quietly processed the information at hand. The ring, the hateful stare, what if it is George? Why didn't I recognize him? And since when does he like Morrissey --Mr. Old skool punk ska boy with the steel toed boots? Unless he came for her.

I watched the doors. I wanted to see him when he came in. And there they were. They went towards the center. We were stage left. This guy was tall, so his head stood above everyone. He stood about 15-20 feet away from me. Then I saw his profile. My stomach dropped. That was his chin. That was him. I had a photo of him that was a profile shot of him lying on the beach, I took it while lying next to him on the blanket. I had kept that photo on my dresser for a year after I moved to New York. What the hell? How come I hadn't recognized him outside? What's happened to him? I got sick. He looked so unhappy.

Steff noticed. I told her. She said, "Are you sure?--Ok, I'll go kick his a**. If you want me to I will, you know." She hugged me. The drunk guy next to us patted me on the head. He said, "Hey, you look too serious. Knock it off." I said, "Excuse me but the love of my life is standing over there with his ugly wife that he left me for." He withdrew his hand and said nothing. Then Steff said, "I wish we could know for sure. I'm going to call his name. Look and see if he turns." So I got him in view and she belted out "HEY GEORGE!" He whipped his head around and saw us. I ducked down trying to hide. Steff didn't, but they had never met. Confirmation. George. I had to hold onto my friend because it felt like I was falling down. My eyes welled up. She told me I was shaking.

"I thought I was over this. I thought I was over him." The room swam and water slowly broke from my eyes and rolled down my face. I didn't recognize him because he's so unhappy. He had lost so much weight. He looked awful! He didn't smile once. That's what was wrong with his face. When I knew him he never stopped smiling. Unless he was thinking. Steff said, "He knows he f*d up." What a stupid waste! We could have been happy. He threw it all away for nothing. She seduced him, they screwed, he felt guilty, she got him to marry her. She doesn't love him the right way. He told me he would never elope because it would break his mother's heart and it did. She must not have cared.

When the show started I tried to sober up. The opening act began, some hot Irish guy on an acoustic guitar. Usually I don't like that kind of thing but he was good. The irony of an Irish man singing about Ireland this night was not lost on me. He reminded me, vividly, of my summer romance. My pain became a multi-dimensional longing and regret for what I had lost. On two continents. This man's sexy mocked my misery. When he spoke with his Dublin accent I heard someone else. When he wailed about sadness I saw the western hills with their crumbling fences and another man's face with his tide-pool eyes. It made me laugh out loud-- I laughed for a long time in the middle of his set. Proof that God has a sense of humor. Here in this room I faced my last two heartbreaks. And added a new one.

~I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does~

Reading this, I realize how pathetic I sound. In an attempt to rescue my imaginary dignity, I make the following excuses for myself: at the time I was a woman in the depths of depression, who didn't even care that Morrissey was 3 feet in front of her, I was on the rag and hormonal, single, lonely, failing at work, failing at life and a 28 year old virgin. And there stood the one man whom I had loved. There stood what could be my last chance for marriage. And he was miserable too.

The show went on. I tried to enjoy it and concentrate on the performance. But I kept glancing at George. He kept looking towards us too. Lucky for me the music was appropriate to my mood so I could lose myself for moments in the drenching sounds; in the honeyed voice dripping words of my sorrow. The show wasn't as good as the others I'd seen this year. Moz didn't like the audience. He was kind of disgusting about it. When he took off his shirt he rubbed it all over his chest to wipe off the sweat, as usual. But then he stuck the shirt down his pants and wiped the sweat off his crotch, front and back. Then he threw the shirt to the crowd. Ew.

Oddly, when the shirt landed on the people, George lunged for it. Wha? I watched as he grabbed it and fought off the maddened fans. He was violent. The look on his face was frightening, pure fierce anger. I'd never seen him like that before. Some guy behind me said, "Did you see that guy's face?" My sadness for him deepened. What's happened to him? I remembered that summer night before I moved, after the Weezer concert when we couldn't get out of the parking lot--how he climbed on the roof of his car and started dancing. His car stereo was broken so we had to listen to his sorry boombox. I sat on the door to hold the boombox up for him to hear, while he danced. In all his glory he danced, for the whole world to see. That it did, some people cursed at us but most cheered. We laughed so much I thought my face would break. I never wanted to leave that parking lot. Now this. He was fighting with wimpy guys for possession of a ball-sweat soaked shirt belonging to a dirty middle-aged pop star. Oh, Icharus! How you've fallen!

Near the end of the show, we made eye contact. Up to that point he had avoided my gaze. I don't know how it happened but but our eyes met and locked onto each other's. All I could see were his big blues and I forgot everything else. Unaware of myself, I automatically smiled at him and mouthed the word, "Hi." He frowned and turned away. That was all. We had an accidental and inappropriate moment.

The show ended. Steff and I went outside. We waited on the front steps watching people exit. She was looking for another friend and I hoped to see George so I could at least say hello properly. We didn't see them. In the car back to her place we talked over what happened. I cried, but not for myself. It broke my heart to see him like that. He wasn't in love with her. He didn't look at her the right way. Steff suggested he got into that shirt fight as a way to let off the frustration of seeing me again. He had to face his mistake that night too. And he was the one worse off for it. If their marriage lasted it wouldn't be pretty. He wasn't in love and she loved him selfishly. It was so sad.

I guess I needed closure. I got it. All I had in the way of closure before that night was the rumor of his marriage and 6 months later a phone call from him telling me 'they' were going to see a band that made him think of me because he knew I liked them. After that I never heard from him again. I had thought I was over him. Obviously, I still had some feelings, but now I am really over it. My desire for him turned to pity and disgust. This was his choice after all. And a very stupid one at that. I'll do better. I prayed for his and their happiness and really meant it this time.

Epilogue:
Read Campbell's myth made real

34 comments:

Anonymous said...

That poor, sad man. Well, he's reaping what he's sown. TS for him. 

Message from Sister T

Anonymous said...

What does TS mean? Sorry I'm not cool enough to know. 

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

I'd imagine it means Tough Sh*t.

That's really sad JL. I'm sorry you had to go through that.. and at a Moz concert to boot. I guess you couldn't have asked for a better setting for something like that.

 

Message from Varant

Anonymous said...

The best thing about life is that we can be extremely happy one moment, be grief-sticken the next and yet continue to move on. He got what he deserve. And I'm sure you deserve better. Love just is. 

Message from ilongga70

Anonymous said...

That's so sad...poor pathetic George. As I read your post, so many of those same emotions after seeing an ex flooded back to me. There aren't many feelings that are worse than when you see someone you loved. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger though right? He did get what he deserved...and you deserve better-  

Message from SingleInSaltLake

Anonymous said...

That has some punch, what a way to have it resolve.



 

Message from Stephen M (Ethesis)

Anonymous said...

JL: Sad, sad. Undoubtedly, seeing you that night reminded him of how unhappy his life is. I've seen the same thing before, how when someone is so unhappy it seems like the "lights are out" and no one is home, and you can't even recognize the person.

He's shown an abundance of poor judgement, however, and you deserve better, far better.  

Message from EastCoastEddie

Anonymous said...

Wow, my heart breaks for the both of you!

It's always amazing to me how much our choices can change our whole world and what our lives could have been ( I know this is how choices work, but, sometimes, when you're in the midst of things, they don't seem to be as long-lasting).

I don't know, I'm feeling pretty meloncholy today. Forgive my ramblings. 

Message from Lizzy

Anonymous said...

You stand and deliver a touch of class you are true grit 5 stars and rising,shine on.Best regards,Danny Haszard Bangor Maine USA




 

Message from Danny Haszard

Anonymous said...

How heartbreaking. I'm so sorry that you have had to see him after what happened but as you said the closure was problably needed in the long run.

Thank you for sharing something so deeply personal. You write so beautifully. But then you know that. :) 

Message from sleepingmommy

Anonymous said...

The concert of a favorite artist, unexpectedly seeing an ex- with his SO, finding out the SO is homely at best, ugly at worst. Hmmm.... it all sounds so familiar... where have I heard that one before??? I'm afraid I didn't handle it so well, though. I dumped a drink down his shirt. I'm getting fiery in my middle-age.

Glad to finally put this story to bed. It's a classic, JL. Thank you very much. 

Message from Kwirki Girl

Anonymous said...

That reminds me when I was on a trip to California and I saw the Governor of California with his entourage on the plane. I knew I had seen him many times on TV but I couldn't figure out who it was. Then someone next to me said that's Pete Wilson, and I immediately recognized him also. Then the next weekend, I was at the grocery store in Sacramento and this guy that looked very familiar was a couple of people in front of me in line and I thought to myself "Who is that". The guy in front of me in the line said that's Pete Wilson. He was buying some treats there.  

Message from Anonymous

Anonymous said...

Great post, JL. Sorry for the pain, but I really liked the resolution at the end. 

Message from Kevin Barney

Anonymous said...

Wow... timing, intensity, closure. I can only imagine... 

Message from dJake

Anonymous said...

JL...It will only get better for you...In the Lords time you will find the right one! True closure will come when you don't feel any feeling for him...not even pity! When you can look at him and say that you love him because he is a child of our Heavenly Father...facing him is a good start...now you just need to let your emotions out! 

Message from SleeplessINPDX

Anonymous said...

Good morning dear readers, er afternoon.

As many of you stated, he is paying the price for his poor choices and actions. I just wish it didn't have to be so bad. He was stupid. She was older and manipulative and knew she'd never do better. I hate that she played on his sense of responsibility and honor. I suspect he'll tough it out with her as long as she stays with him, that's the kind of guy he was when I knew him.
Most of you have pointed out that I can do better, and thank you for that. :-) I can see now that I need someone stronger and smarter than he was. Now that I've kind of given up on dating mormons things are looking more hopeful for me.

Varant, You're right that it had to happen at a Moz show just to complete the poetry of it all. I really did start laughing during the show. It was so unbelievably appropriate and melodramatic. I don't think a playwriter could have written a better scene. The dues ex machina being Morrissey who saved me from death by heartache by making my misery vocal and beautiful. If it had been anyone else performing, I think I would have had to leave the concert.

Lizzy, melancholy isn't always bad, it's like the dark shading in a painting which renders life more real and makes the bright spots more dimensional and whole. Embrace your inner darkness!

Thank you for saying so SleepingMommy and Eddie, Kevin, Kwirki and everyone else for the compliments. I am proud of this post, it was my Wednesday and Thursday project, (I'm still tweeking slightly.) Writing it was my reward for finishing ALL my grading. So why am I in grad school again?....oh yeah, I used to work this hard on that stuff. And I couldn't ask for better work hours.  

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

EEK! please excuse my misspelling of Deus ex Machina. I know it's not spelled 'dues' 

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

looks like I fell victim to another disappearing blg post- I came back to see if there were any more comments after mine, and poof it was gone.

I hope things don't suck too terribly 

Message from Mike

Anonymous said...

"dues" I thought that was an intentional play on the term "paying your dues" tossed into the discussion.

Still, nicely done. 

Message from Stephen M (Ethesis)

Anonymous said...

Mike,
things don't suck I'm just an insecure freakshow. I've been alone in my room all week with nothing but my own thoughts and undergraduate writing. That's never good. And I haven't eaten today, with the meds I'm on that's hyper-not good.

Got a phone call from sis with a dose of better judgement. 

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

JL, what would you do without Jill? From reading this blog, I get the strong impression that your life would *really* suck eggs if she weren't around. So here's three cheers for sis! 

Message from Kevin Barney

Anonymous said...

"things don't suck I'm just an insecure freakshow."
well yeah- I've been reading the blog long enough to know that;) but really, aren't we all?

I was worried it may have been taken down because the person for whom it was intended saw and responded in a less than desirable manner. And that would have been potentially quite sucky. I'm glad that you talked to your sister- sounds like she's a good friend to have around. (even if around is part-way across the country.)
 

Message from Mike

Anonymous said...

Yay for Jill! Actually I called her and asked her to look at it. In like two seconds she said ixna. I really shouldn't be left alone for days like this. one little thought will start rattling around in my head until it grows like a cancer and then if I forget to eat except for the diet coke and donuts and I don't talk to anyone or leave the house for 3 days. . . that little thought or fear grows into some huge distortion until I freak out. Then I calm down and become closer to normal. I'm going to die alone.
 

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

jl,
Beautiful post. It never ceases to amaze Me how the universe can conspire to bring about events that may be neccessary to growth and healing. The word synchronicity - one I"ve always loved - strikes me as covering this one - perhaps even the new title you search for. Of course my other optimistic title would be "My Rebirth" As I am told, birth is always painful, yet yields a brand new life full of potential. Hang in there - you have real talents 

Message from Russel in Retrograde

Anonymous said...

Thanks Russel,
Come to think of it I did come out of the dark concert venue soaked in sweat and tears so it really was like a birth.At the time it felt like death to the last vestiges of my youth. You're right though what were the chances? If they had been further behind us in line I never would've known he was there. Thank you for the talents compliment--if only I could earn a living this way. :-)

Mike,
check the comments on the newer post.  

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

Unbelievable. You rip on/mistreat the girl who has done nothing to you and then get weepy when she lashes back? You are pathetic. 

Message from Mimi

Anonymous said...

mimi,
Yes. I admitted that in the post. Called myself pathetic. You must have missed that line.
Though the girl didn't make me weepy. I was surprised she was giving me dirty looks when I was very careful not to stare at her and to keep my contempt to myself. That's the southern way to do things, keep your ugly thoughts hidden.  

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

What a strange diss from mimi. I always think you're very well-behaved.

I forgot to mention earlier how encouraging this post was for me. Nearing its end, I began conjuring images of how my heartbreaker will look in a few years -- aged from smoking and drinking, probably a full-blown alcoholic, and miserable. I'm not wishing for it. That's just the road he's on. While the thought comforts me with seeing how much better off I am, I'm sure I would feel the same sadness you did. It is such a waste. 

Message from Kwirki Girl

Anonymous said...

Finally, I can sleep at night.

Poor baby, both of you. But mostly him. Nothing like being married to a greasy-hair girl to make life fun fun fun.  

Message from Lisa

Anonymous said...

Lisa,
I almost emailed you after I posted this, I guess I should have. Sorry to keep you waiting. :-)

Kwirki,
Yeah it surprised me. She didn't read very carefully I think and maybe she took personal offense at my description of the girl. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with people like that, it's just a personal prejudice I have because men who are afraid to date me because I'm too independent or whatever always end up with girls like that. And that girl didn't make me cry. Writing this post was really good for me. I didn't understand until I wrote this but I actually matured during that 4 hours. I started out feeling sad for myself and angry and spiteful and jealous. By the end of the night I was just sad for him and what he has lost. My own loss was nothing in comparison.  

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

"At the time it felt like death to the last vestiges of my youth."

you ever read any Joseph Campbell? He talks allot about cultural myths that deal with the need to die inorder to be reborn. So yeah it would make sense that this birth of a new jl would involve the death of the vestiges of your youth. Go girl! 

Message from Russel in Retrograde

Anonymous said...

That fight for the sweaty shirt reminds me of church basketball. 

Message from Anonymous

Anonymous said...

Russel,
I haven't bothered to read Campbell but I've seen the Moyers interview on PBS several times. We studied his theory of 'The Myth' so I learned the pattern he discovered. You're right, my tale fits perfectly with the universal human myth as described by Campbell. I'm writing it up for my next post detailing the various stages. I'm just amazed--how often is the allegorical myth of maturation made literal and real in life? It's supposed to work the other way around. This is exciting.

Thank you Russel. Look for my next post about it.  

Message from JL

Anonymous said...

Its funny, the two ex's that truly broke my heart ended up just as unhappy. My ex husband who broke my heart more then anyone I think ever has is a very alone man. His defenses are so high I doubt anyone will ever get through to him. He has the potential to be such a wonderful man, but he so angry and bitter it would be nearly impossible for anyone to ever see. It took forever to get over him and even though I am over him...I am still sad about him sometimes. I commend you for not being bitter towards him...it takes alot more work to feel bad for him and wish him well then to be angry and hope his life continues to go down the toilet.

Thanks so much for sharing this. 

Message from EJ