*hugs*

Friday night I was standing at the service well waiting for my drinks when the bartender aimlessly asked me What's New? and I was all, Well, I started writing and posting to a blog this week.  We usually talk writing stuff because he also fancies himself a writer.  I thought he might be interested.  I also knew he had no way of knowing I started a blog because he's one of those alien creatures who doesn't believe in Facebook or any kind of social media.

He asked, What's it about?  I told him, I've been sitting on this for awhile and thinking about how to organize it and everything until finally I was like, Just start posting stories it will organize itself whatever I've been putting this off for far too long I'll try it and keep doing it and see what happens.

As I loaded up the last of my drinks onto my tray, I casually mentioned, It's had about 500 hits since Tuesday night and I have no idea what that means but it sounds good to me.  He sputtered, What?....why....do you have a lot of family...I mean, who would.....?  I walked away.  I had to get the drinks to my table.

But I smiled for the next few minutes, finishing his sentence in my head:  Who would want to read stories I write about myself?  Indeed.

When I returned to the bar, I spit out his question and he tried to back track but I told him I completely agreed and it baffles me too.  My only explanation:  I tell the truth.  And people like it.

Look, it's a mystery to me but over the past few years I've discovered the only thing people want to read are stories about our greatest fears, biggest messes, most outrageous embarrassments.  If I ever am invited to teach a writing class, I only have one piece of advice - you have to be totally willing to bend all the way over, spread your butt cheeks, and let everyone examine.  Then, and only then, will people be willing to read you.

Like this:

About a month ago, my ex wife's biological mother held her hand up in my face when I leaned in for a hug and told me, Oh I am not hugging you. 

Right in front of my son.

Now there's a few things you need to know about this situation.  Starting with how I've accepted a zillion creepy hugs from her that I never wanted in the first place.  I am not at all a hugger.  It's called Being Polite.  Second, this woman would not even be standing anywhere near me, my ex wife, or our children if it wasn't for me.  Period.  She would not be invited to see our kids perform in Fiddler on the Roof.  She would not have a place to stay in Columbus.  She would not even KNOW her own grandchildren.  If not for me.  My First Wife completely rejected her and kicked her out of her life for over 13 years.  I was the one who was all, Maybe we should try Forgiveness.  Third, this is made all the more outrageous when you consider how she actually follows some Hugging Guru around the country and hugging is some significant piece of her spirituality so I know when she says I'm not hugging you what she really means is Go to Hell.  Fourth, the reason she hates me now is because of the things I write on FB.  At the beginning of our divorce, she didn't do the normal thing of cutting me out of her life the way the other mother-in-law (the cool one, the step mother, the one who actually parented children well) who knows how to set normal boundaries did.  And even though I was always suspicious the only reason Bio Mom came into my house was to report back to Eva about me, I had nothing to hide.  Bio mom was all, I deeply love each and every one of you, you are all in my prayers blah blah blah.  Then one day she told me I needed to stop writing stuff on FB (but not the political stuff, she likes the political stuff) and I shrugged and said, If you don't like me on FB then you don't like me and I"m ok with that.  Not everybody has to like me.

Wait.  Did I mention she did this in front of my son.  Who was playing Temple Run and probably didn't even notice but I always think that and then he recites back everything that happened nine days ago while he was playing Temple Run so yes he probably did see his grandmother (who he worships) hold her hand up in his mother's face (who he loves) and deem her not worthy of hugging.

I can't even tell you how much my head has exploded all over the place since that day.  And just this morning she tried to call me.

I know what this is.  I've talked to god about it a lot.  The Mother Of All Life Lessons for me.

Resentment.

  I examine my motives and I think I have none or I think they are Good Motives and then something like this happens and my head explodes.  Like I had very loving, good reasons for talking Eva into meeting her mother for coffee after 13 years but now I'm like Woman, Have You No Gratitude?  I know, I know.  This is what passive/aggressive looks like up close and personal.  And when I'm sitting still and being rational, I get it.  You want to be loyal to your daughter.  Finally.  And since you were such an unbelievably shitty mother the whole time she was a child, I'm trying to dig deep and rescue my empathy and understanding while my head is exploding at how you're being such a shitty grandparent.

I have a difficult time comprehending how some people can so absolutely cut a person out of their lives.  If I have any connection whatsoever, even some ten minute conversation, I feel a profound attachment and will jump through any amount of hoops to keep the connection going.  It's just the way I am made.  I feel a profound attachment to that Twitter follower I got last week.  But I am starting to practice Blocking.  Is it spiritual growth?  Is it being mature?  Am I growing up?  Is it finally ok to say:  OMG, you are not a good person, you are Blocked.  From everything?  I don't know.  That feels so foreign to me because The Beatles sing We Can Work It Out on an endless loop in my brain.

One of my best friends is amused by my exploding head.  "You get upset about the weirdest things."  She's right.  Someone could steal all of my money and fuck my wife and I'd be all, I totally get why you did that.  But refuse to hug me when I didn't even want to hug you in the first place? and IT'S OVER.

Losing It

"Are you sure you're not going to lose it?" she said with the tone of someone who has it all together.  I hesitate as I reached for the piece of paper, thinking, Why, yes, of course I'm going to lose it and when I do, I can simply call the doctor and explain that I lost it.  I have complete faith in these plans because that’s how I roll:   Losing Things.  Most especially, important pieces of paper.  She hands over our son’s prescription to have his heart checked. Since I am adopted, my son and I have no real medical history, no parents or grandparents to give us clues about how strong our hearts are.  The doctor insists on extra testing to make sure the medication is not hurting his heart. I fold it and carefully place it in my brown leather wallet. Her brown leather wallet. The one she gave me as a hand-me-down in 1998. For the rest of the week, I replay the scene over in my mind except this time I actually say my sassy comeback: Let me just put it in this wallet that I haven't lost in the last FOURTEEN YEARS. *sticks out tongue*

However, a few weeks later, I am really glad I didn't have my sassy retort in the moment. Because my wallet is gone. I was couch shopping and I'm pretty sure it fell out of my pocket. (I have to LAY on the couches to decide if they will really work for me in the middle of the night.) I've made all the phone calls and now I'm going through a few stages of grief. Everything is, of course, replaceable, except the $50 Lowes card I bought on the last day Giant Eagle was giving .20 fuel perks on gift cards. But at least I used most of that to paint Georgia's room. Everything is replaceable except, of course, the wallet she gave me when she was still optimistic enough to try to help me get organized.

"Are you sure you're not going to lose it?" is a funny question for my First Wife to ask me.  Are we ever sure? And considering the history of my mental health and my super-cliched midlife crisis at the end of our marriage, there is a subtle play on the words "lose it." I didn't lose the prescription. I lost the wallet. I lost the girl.

Sometimes you don't realize how gutted you've been until you are in the clear.

Never make the same mistake twice.  Make it three times.  Be sure.--Josh Hara

On love at first sight #1

So THIS happened to me today.

The other day I fell in love at first sight.  It's happened a few times in my life.  And I know the feeling is so specific and so profound.  Like suddenly this person's face and presence magnifies above the entire room.  Like the way a movie camera spins around the couple.  And you know the only way this ends is heartbreak and devastation.

I used to think I knew what it meant:  I must pursue them and make them MINE.  But lately I'm trying to just notice feelings.  Just pay attention to them.  Let them be.  Part of the "wisdom to know the difference" (between changing the things I can or accepting the things I can't), part of that wisdom is knowing I don't have to act on each and every feeling.

God, that's so hard.

I fell in love with Bobby McCafferty on the first day of 2nd grade.  What did I, as a 7 year old, know about love?  Well, I watched a TON of General Hospital.  I had been watching since Bobbie Spencer was a hooker.  I knew Luke and Laura love.  If the person didn't love you, you MADE them love you.  And my big sister pursued boys with a fierceness of a toddler laying claim to her toys.  I picked up the other phone line to listen in on her (5th grade) talking to Jay Richardson (6th grade).  He was a cousin by marriage so this caused a minor soap opera scandal in our family.  I was a spy and voyeur at an early age.  So, I knew Love.

I think about that first day of 2nd grade and what I remember is how no one wanted to sit next to me.  We only had two classes in each grade which meant 50% of the kids from last year remembered I was a trouble maker at my desk so stay away.  The other 50% had been warned.  But he came running in last and took the only available seat.  Beside me. The obsession did not let up until he left for some Christian private school in junior high.

Poor Bobby McCafferty.  He had no idea what force of nature entered his life that day.  I fine-tuned my stalking abilities over the next 5 years.  How to arrange myself in the countdown in gym so we were on the same team.  How to keep other kids away from my bus seat so by the time he got on, his only option was beside me.  How I threatened to destroy any girl who casually mentioned they thought he was cute.  I called him relentlessly.  Just to talk.  In third grade.  I am a prolific writer today because I HAD to write about my feelings for him and pass him notes all day.  I am a fantastic roller skater because he was a great roller skater and I had to keep up.  My relationship with him mostly existed in my mind but sometimes we were "going together" and then summer would come.  I planned our first kiss at the skating rink in 6th grade and when he didn't show up that night (his mom couldn't drive him), I kissed Greg Ireland instead.  Out of spite.  When Bobby found out the next day, it was OVER.  For real this time. Heartbreak and devastation.

The 2nd time I fell in love at first sight, I was 21.  Again with the room spinning.  I even remember thinking, THIS is just how I felt on the first day of 2nd grade.  Lynette Molnar.  Someone introduced us very quickly in a dance club.  I shrugged.  I was an addict at this point and really good at stuffing my feelings down.  I walked away.  To another club.  But something compelled me back to look for her.  To TALK to her at least one more time.  I had been telling all my friends about how "I really don't want a relationship right now" and by the next day she was all I was talking about.  For the next six months, everywhere I went, I was looking for her until I finally ran into her.  I willed our affair.  It did not turn out the way I planned.  It was over quickly.  My will got in my way.  I never stopped thinking about her though.  More heartbreak and devastation.

That moment when every song lyric on the radio suddenly makes sense.  Especially:  If I can't have you, I don't want nobody, baby.

What is the love at first sight feeling?  Some people believe it's soul mate stuff.  Past life recognition.  When I saw her today, everything stopped.  I have big plans for the day:  feeding, driving, meeting, listening, writing, cleaning, playing outside.  This is not on my agenda.  But everything stopped.  All I needed was her profile and I knew.  And as soon as I knew, I took a deep breath and tried to do that Pema Chodra thing of noticing my feelings, paying attention, learning.  What happened to me on the first day of 2nd grade?

I looked around the room.  There were about 50 other people, what was it about this one person?  I considered mere physical attraction and started sizing up the others in the room and who I also found attractive but they were NOT making me feel this.  I noticed the pattern from Bobby to Lynette to the few others:  curly hair.  Is that really all it takes?  No, there are so many people in this world with curly hair.  Style.  There is a definite style about each person.  It's never the same, but they all have style.   And their style always belongs to them, never pretentious or planned. Which is weird because I have no style.  Are we just looking in the other person for something we don't have in ourselves?  But want?

I would like to tell you that I didn't act.  That I decided to sit still with my feelings.  But I am not there yet.  I just couldn't stay in my chair.  I became a third grader, angling my position in the room to be closer.  Judging by the room, I'm 75% certain she is crazy (like me).  From her perfectly painted toenails on this first day of warm, I'm 85% sure she is straight.  And I am 100% sure I do not need a girlfriend in my life right now.

"But I won't lose no sleep on that
'Cause I've got a plan"

Even though I already know how this story ends.

God I love FB #1

I am fascinated with how FB changes the nature of relationships, the definition of friendship, and how we create new pathways to create community.  Or family.  

Recently I had something strange happen: I got a “notification” for my Timeline that “needs review.”  A relative of my First Wife sent me a "request" to "add" myself to their "list of family members" on their FB page.  Like, last week. 2.5 years after divorce settlement.   I have to "approve this post" for my Timeline. Or I can click “dismiss” and it will go away.   And if I click "approve," then I have to choose from a list of titles for this relative.  

When the notification first appeared, I thought: Surely this is a glitch in The Matrix; the request MUST have been sent three years ago and only now somehow made it through.  

My next thought was more optimistic:  Maybe this person has been reading my writings about Loss and Regret and now wants to send me a message that I am still loved and accepted.  

This is Very Optimistic.  

I immediately called a friend, What the heck am I supposed to do?  Approve? Click Whatever-in-law? Send them a message asking WTH? Ignore it? Pretend I never saw it?  She told me before I do anything, I might want to write about it.

In Law.  I was once at a party at my inlaw’s house and there was this rabbi-type friend of the family who kept telling me I should call Sam and Gigi my Not-In-Laws.  Because my marriage is not recognized within the confines of the actual law.  He repeated his “joke.”  I guess since I didn't display the proper amount of amusement, he thought I didn’t get it.  I got it.  I was not amused.  I still fail to see how existing outside the boundaries of societal law is amusing in any context.  

Mother-in-law.  Father-in-law.  Sister-in-law.  Brother-in-law. Their love and their demonstrations of love for our little gay family made it easy to simply let go of the “in-law” part anyways. They were my mother, father, sister, brother. Does the distance in time and space during two point five years negate the relationship of family of eleven years?

When I was eleven, a wonderful, loving aunt divorced my father's brother.  Her departure and their custody battle erased her from my family.  She was ripped from the photo albums.  My mother instructed me to pretend I did not know her if I ran into her at the mall. (Shunning at the mall = worst revenge ever)  But FB brought her back to me and I don’t care what anyone says, she will always be my Aunt Patty.  The fact that I walked directly in her shoes as an adult magnifies my loss as a child.  Why did I have to let her go?  Why did I have to lose out on an extremely meaningful relationship throughout my teens?  I spent a lot of time so worried over my uncle and my cousin, I did not even recognize my own loss.  I bet I really could have leaned on my Aunt Patty during the years when I struggled with my self-acceptance.  She was a hippie who made a lot of mistakes and I don’t care what anybody says - we need those people in our lives.  But, “everything happens for a reason,” so I am grateful she is here today, inspiring me to (self) forgiveness and understanding. Still. I hate that separation rips everyone apart and not just the two stupid people getting the divorce.

Needs Review.  FB reminds me. I find I am just leaving the request there.  So I can visit it from time to time.  Keep it for myself.  I am an adopted child and people always ask me, Why don’t you try to find your biological mother, aren’t you curious?  The answer is obvious to me:  I cannot handle being rejected a second time.  If I click “approve” and the person on the other side of FB Land realizes their error and then erases the post, I’m pretty sure it will trigger all those adopted child, rejected child feelings.  So I keep it.  I know it’s not the real world but at least in some alternative, parallel Facebook Universe, she is still my Aunt Patty and I am still her niece.  And he is still my Father (not-in-law).

Fired #1

I got fired from my first job. Dairy Queen. It was the year the daughter-in-law took over. My next door neighbor. A former stay-at-home mom. She invited me to work weekends during the day. She said I could ride with her. We set up together and then she left for a few hours. I don't know where she went. Occasionally some guy waited for her on the bench in the back. They sat together outside for a few hours while I ran the place. Sometimes they left. She told me I could eat whatever I wanted. At first, it was exciting to eat my favorite items: The Peanut Buster Parfait or a vanilla chocolate twist covered with crunchies. But that got boring. I tried some of the stuff I never bought at Dairy Queen. Like the Dilly Bars or the malts. I had never in my life had malt. It was weird. By the middle of the summer, I moved onto serious experimentation. What happens when you make a chocolate milkshake but use half soda water? (Not good) And more experimentation with malt. (More not good) This was the year they introduced The Blizzard, so you can imagine my free-for-all. It rained a lot that summer so I had plenty of quiet moments to have fun with ice cream and candy. Then one day the mother-in-law showed up. Told me my services were no longer needed. Told me every time she dropped by, she noticed I was always eating something. This was true. I had no defense. I literally got fired from Dairy Queen for eating too much. A few days later, the daughter-in-law called me and said I could have my job back. When we drove in together, she explained that SHE was supposed to be in charge this summer and the-mother-in-law had no right to fire me, that they discussed it, and that part of the agreement of her taking over the family business was she got to have some free time for herself. (I don't remember who was taking care of the baby at this point.) She asked me to keep a look out for the mother-in-law and call her if she appeared. Oh, and maybe try not eating anything when I saw her pull up. It quit raining all the time so I got really busy and didn't have so much time to experiment anymore. A few years later, when I was at college, my mom called to tell me the next door neighbors are getting a divorce and that the wife just up and left for another man and what a huge surprise it was to everyone. I wasn't surprised.