Sunday, March 05, 2006

THE GREAT UNKNOWN

In order to force away my Sunday morning hangover, I went for a three-hour walk in the unexpected sunshine of Central London. The most comforting thing about my winter wandering is that I am completely disguised under layers of sweatshirts, a coat, navy scarf, thick blue wool beanie, and massive blue-lensed Aviator sunglasses. I'm a ghost swerving in and out of slower pedestrians as I quickly wrap around the Thames' wondrous bridges. I'm a quick little unstoppable blur of blue, today with Kayne West's Late Registration and the Arctic Monkeys blaring through my iPod headphones.

I have grown to love London even more than I ever expected. It wasn't always this way. With New York, it was a gradual admiration for the city that grew on me the longer I lived there. With London, though, it was different. This vicious bitch I now proudly call home has tricked and taunted me over and over, but now, all of a sudden, London and I have reached a sort of calm. A mutual understanding. A supportive agreement that enables me to feel completely comfortable and 'at home' no matter if I'm shooting through mobs of perky tourists and families in Covent Garden or staggering home alone at 4am through Smithfields, returning the stares of blood-covered butchers at the meat markets. I hardly ever feel like That American anymore. The Yank. After over two years, I am no longer the American-Dallasite-New Yorker. I feel so much a part of this fantastically messy city.

I've got so many friends here now. I no longer feel like I'm 'borrowing' my friends' closest mates when I go out with them. I don't pretend for my acquaintances in hopes that people will like me (when have I ever consciously given a flying fuck about that)? I am not one of those people who can and will hang out with anyone just to have another body around. I have to geniunely, really like people's company to spend time with them. Trust me: I would much rather be lonely alone rather than lonely with other people. But now I never feel lonely here!

I don't want to leave London. And I'm not saying that I'll have to - yet - especially since I don't even know where I'll live in approximately four months time. Right now, at least today, the thought of returning to New York feels like a step backwards.

Awesome told me yesterday, "My new hospital (in San Francisco) loves me. I feel like they're prepping to keep me on as permanent staff." Meanwhile, I sat there thinking, Really? That's great, baby. But. Um. My university in London loves me. They'd probably hire me full-time. And I'm really happy here. My real name is now all over the internet, associated with conferences, publications, premieres, awards shows, etc., and I've really started making a name for myself here. Now that we've both left New York - which we both said was 'temporary' - this is not supposed to be happening to us yet. Not at 27. Couples who are 40 are supposed to be struggling with promising career moves and juggling their relationship and professional life so intricately that it doesn't end up a mess. But not us. Not this. Not yet. It's too soon for that. Right? Is one of us supposed to become a supportive housewife or trophy husband? Cuz that's sure as hell not going to happen. I won't do it, and I wouldn't respect Awesome if he did.

But. We. Need. To. Be. Together. Soon, damnit! And we both know it. We know it's been far too fucking long thus far. And we can't wait. But what is supposed to happen? I hate not being in control of my future. After all this time, although we're now eight (8) time zones away, Awesome's and my trust for each other has surprisingly grown, yet we still tend to grill each other like over-protective parents. Last night Awesome called my mobile while I was out with my two (2) straight boyfriends in Shoreditch, and demanded, "Who are you with!?"
"Edwin and Pete."
"WHO ARE THEY!?"
"They're straight."
"Oh. Okay."
"You've met them. More than once. Calm down."
"Oh yeah. Okay sorry."

Lucky for Awesome, though, I hang out with heterosekshuls 95% of the time, so he rarely has anything to worry about. I abhore gay bars. Awesome, on the other hand, goes through phases where he loves all things gay, for which of course I don't condemn him. But when my lapses of trust naturally occur, the conversation is typically like this:
"Who are you with?"
"Oh, some of my fellow nurses from the unit."
"Women?"
"No. They're guys."
Upon which he hears me groan and/or sigh loudly, and say, "Oh."
"Don't worry," he'll say. "Neither of them are attractive whatsoever."
Silence from me.
"One of them is really really fat."
Silence from me.
"The other one is completely repulsive. Ugliest person I've ever met. They're not even fun, really. I'm sort of miserable."
"Where are they?"
"Sitting right across from me."
"Can they hear you?"
"Oh. Yeah. Woops."
"Well, that's nice of you."

So. This is why we must be together soon. I mean, like, living together as adults, and this fucking childish, fairy-tale long-distance bullshit must conclude. In addition to the distance driving us crazy and occasionally making us depressed, we are now affecting the psyches of innocent people by antagonizing their physical features and, in my case, being so cutthroatedly ambitious and workaholic that I stomp over people like they're 19th Century servants. This said, though - I am still laptopless, which - horror! - prevented me from working all weekend. Instead, I have therapeutically been intoxicated nonstop for the past 50+ hours, and playing worry-free with friends whom I've not seen in a while. So why the fuck am I being so neurotic now?

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
The busy have no time for tears. - Lord Byron