Stories to Tell (Two for One)
“The Appropriate Time”
Newspaper format style.
Who: My lady friend and I
What: It’s "over"
When: Thursday night , May 27, 2010
Where: My apartment
How: Read on
There’s a great movie and it’s called “500 Days of Summer.” I love it. I thought it was super impressive and insightful. Well written, well told, well shot, well acted. Well…great. I highly recommend it. There is one of my all-time favorite scenes where the male character is meeting the female character for what he hopes will be a date that will reunite them. On one half of the screen is his expected versions and on the other half of the screen is the reality that took place. It’s amazing.
I’m sure we’ve all been there – when you’re looking forward to something, maybe it’s a date, and you’re excited to see the other person, you get everything ready, you have this expectation that it’s going to go splendidly and then once it starts you realize you’re in for something else.
It’s happened to me several times.
Let me explain a few.
Time number one:
The first was for my prom. I went to an all boys high school and didn’t know many girls. I had met a beautiful girl from Kansas City when I was in Paraguay the summer before my senior year. I was student body VP and had to plan the prom, and although I didn’t want to go, I was forced to go. Luckily, my friend from Kansas City agreed to join me. I was excited. I had a crush on her, but she had a boyfriend (typical). Two weeks before she’s due out to Boston she tells me on the phone that they’ve broken up.
My boys all tell me this is a GREAT sign and that I am in. They broke up because of me.
After days of hearing this from everyone, I buy in, and get excited. I like her. The night before she comes out we’re talking on the phone and she tells me that they just got back together. He’s no fool. I’m bummed.
When she does come out, she’s not nearly as warm and friendly as she was in Paraguay. She’s distant and cold and seems nervous and out of place. My brother doesn’t like her at all. He calls her to this day “The Ice Princess.” I was disappointed and thought she was off her game, but I understood, and I never held it against her. Things happen. I’m still friends with her to this day.
The expectation certainly deviated from the reality.
Time number two:
I dated a girl in college off and on for five years. Towards the end of college we broke up while we were still living together. We were fighting a lot. I wanted to move to LA after graduation. She did not. She was originally from LA and didn’t want to go back. We split up.
Like most breakups, it was not clean. We still loved each other and still had a strong physical attraction.
A few months out of school I was trying to convince her to get back together. She was hestitant. Thought it was a bad idea. But, that didn’t stop us from still visiting and hooking up.
I go away to San Diego for a vacation before I start my first job. While in SD she invites me out to Martha’s Vineyard where she’s staying for the time being the weekend after I get back. I agree. I’m excited. “She’s coming around,” I think to myself.
I get home. I had just bought a car. My first ever. I decide to take a drive. Before you know it, I’m on the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. It’s a week early, but whatever, I’ll surprise her. It will be awesome. I’m so excited about my car and the job and I figure we’ll hang out for a day or two and then I’ll go home.
I get myself to her house via a cab and then walk up the long driveway. Her dogs start barking and she opens the door. The excitement I’m expecting on her face isn’t quite there. Shocked, yes, but there is some dread on her face. She tells me to come in coldly.
I’m confused.
Sitting around the kitchen counter she informs me that she’s not alone. She has a guest. It’s a guy. It’s a guy I don’t like and never have.
He pulls up shortly after I arrive. He comes in. He tries to shake my hand. I look at it, and say, “I’m all set.”
She then drives me to the ferry.
I have never been so confused / embarrassed / hurt in my whole life. I’m shattered. The ferry ride and car ride are an existential blur.
I go home and pick up the guitar, which I hadn’t played in a year. I write a song called “Pieces” and have never put it down since. That was seven years ago.
I've never been back to Martha's Vineyard.
The worst part about it is that I had to deal with this while I was starting my first consulting job. It was not cool.
The expectation certainly deviated from the reality.
Time number three:
Thursday night.
Many of you know I have a lady friend who I’ve met since I moved to LA.
We’ve hung out several times and always have a fun time. We talk on the phone for long periods of time. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a month because of conflicting schedules and priorities.
She texted me on Friday (almost a week before the incident) to say let’s hang out next week. I was down.
We decide on Thursday for various reasons.
I’m down.
Thursday comes around and I’m excited.
She agrees to come over. I’ll make a quick dinner, and we’ll hang out low key.
The last time I saw her was on a beautiful spring day and we had taken a walk around my neighborhood and talked. We kissed goodbye and she got in her car and left.
I’m wodering if we’re going to pick up where we left off and give a hello kiss. I hope so. I haven’t had a hello kiss in ages. I almost can’t remember what is like or how to do it. I think I’m prepared though.
It was also her birthday recently so I had a birthday present for her. I had made her tickets to be cashed in at any point so that we could go to a concert / show / event of her choice, bought her a card, and some flowers. I mean why not. Girls love flowers.
I want to figure out where this is going. I’ve had a month to think about it, and I have no idea what’s going on. I'm not trying to move to fast or anything, but I just want to know what to prepare myself for. There is a part of me that thinks there is a future and there is a part of me that thinks something else is going on, and that she’s pulling away. Sometimes I think I’m in a movie called “She’s Not That Into You,” and that maybe she’s emotionally not available, but there’s always the phone calls that are fun and long and confusing.
I’m prepared to figure out how it will go.
We agree to meet at eight and have dinner.
At 7:45pm I get a text and phone call confused as to what time we said – 8 or 9pm. (At first we had said either or, but I suggested 8pm when I realized I’d be hungry after swimming).
This is unlike her. Normally she’s on time and super punctual. Oh well. No big deal. I’m not that hungry after all.
She calls to tell me she’s here and is walking up the stairs.
I go to the door wondering what will happen when I open it.
I open the door.
It’s cold.
I get a hug.
It’s like we don’t know each other.
Uh, oh. Here we go…
She’s tired. She seems like she’s dragged herself across town and just wants to be home. She’s not excited to see me at all.
Uh, oh. Here we go…
She puts her purse down and pulls out a cigarette. She wants one already? This is normal. J We have habit of hanging on my front stoop while she smokes and we talk and catch up. I put on my shoes and jacket and we head out.
It’s cold outside. For real.
We chit chat about nothing memorable. She tells me she’s tired. Had a late night last night and the night before that as well.
We go back upstairs to my apartment.
We enter the kitchen, she sits at the table where she normally sits while I cook. I start cooking. I can’t help but feel that something’s off.
The conversation is taking serious work. I look over at her and she’s texting away. Last time we were hanging out and she was texting while I cooked she made it a point to apologize and I just laughed. This time there’s no apology – just more texting.
It gets to the point I can’t take it. I finally speak up. “Is something wrong? Are you OK? It seems like you’re not yourself,” I say.
She responds, “No, it’s just that I’m tired.”
I don’t press the issue. She does look tired.
She actually still has her jacket on. Maybe she’s just cold.
I make dinner. I pour myself a glass of wine. This isn’t what I was hoping for.
She’s not drinking.
That’s fine. I am. I need to relax and take the edge off.
We eat dinner. It’s good. We talk. It’s good. She seems to be loosening up. I’m optimistic. She asks if she can have a glass of wine. She’s warming up.
I pour her a glass.
She then wants to go smoke another cigarette.
We go outside.
We talk. I try. It’s hard. Sometimes I think to myself “Why is this such a struggle?” I’ve got nothing to say to her.
We talk.
We talk.
Silence.
She sighs.
I say, “It’s going to be okay.” I don't know where this came from.
She says, “I was waiting for the appropriate time to say this.”
Uh, oh. Here we go…I guess I was right.
I brace for impact. I can see the metaphysical car bearing down on me, but I can’t get out of the way. It’s going to hit me and it’s going to hurt.
What’s it going to be? She must have gotten back together with her ex. I thought this was coming. Fuck.
She says, “We can’t be 'kissy feely' anymore. I can’t do that. I can’t date anyone. I don’t have time. I don’t have time for anything but my acting. Blah, blah, blah, blah."
I've given this speech before. This is my first time hearing come back to me.
She continues, "And, I’m still in love with my ex-roommate.”
Now we're talking. What?
“Who’s that?" I ask.
She tells me.
I think, really? I met him. He's getting divorced and has a kid. Lots of baggage. He did seem nice. I don't think he was too found of me. And let's be honest, he's no Groundswell.
I had ruled him out as a problem a long time ago. She actually had told me she liked him at one point but nothing could come of it because they we roommates (more like housemates), and that her dream guy wasn't a divorcee with a kid.
I’m stunned. Where did this come from?
I’m not surprised about her being emotionally unavailable. I had a good feeling that was the case. I was just hoping I was wrong.
I was more surprised by whom. Haha. I’ll never figure girls out. I've stopped trying.
We have a long talk. She says that this doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want to talk or doesn’t want to still hang out.
We just can’t hook up, date, etc.
It wouldn’t be fair to me or to her. Sounds mature.
I would’ve been down to be friends with benefits. I can be either character from “500 Days of Summer,” but I can understand where she is coming from. We’ve all been there.
We both agree that she probably “pines for him” because she can’t have him. We’ve all been there. It's a matter of self-preservation.
I tell her I'm not going to psychoanalyze her, but I just did.
She tells me, “I just want you to know that it’s not you, it’s me.”
I laugh and say, "I wish you watched 'Seinfeld,'” and then impersonate George saying “It’s not you, it’s me? I invented it’s not you it’s me. You can’t tell me that it’s not me. It’s me.”
She doesn’t quite get it having never seen it before.
I can’t say that I disagree with her. I’m a catch.
She has issues. She told me that from day one. I mean we all have issues. She elaborates on them again.
I listen.
I think about the girl I had met at my buddy’s bday who was gorgeous and was wishing I had been more assertive and had gotten her number. She was hot.
Oh, well.
We talk.
My neighbors are having guest over and one of them walks out the door - she's a beautiful Argentinian girl, but I've heard about her before, and know she's married. Her husband just arrived. Seems nice. Not as good of a catch as Groundswell. Typical. ;)
I joke about her probably not wanting the birthday present. She says no. Presents equal affection and she’s not good with affection – part of her intimacy issues.
I decide she’s getting it anyways. If we’re going to be friends this will be a perfect excuse to still get together.
I’ll hold off on giving her the flowers though. That seems like a bad idea.
We go back into my apartment to get her wine so she can have it while she smokes her another cigarette.
I ask her if she wants to her the latest song I recorded (the next story I’ll tell). She says yes so we go into my room.
I have her listen to the song, and she likes it. Says it’s very heartfelt. Loves Zolani's voice.
We then listen to “Mrs. Robinson” on vinyl so she can hear my new stereo system.
This is totally not going how I thought it would.
I give her the present. She tells me that it’s definitely the most creative present she’s gotten.
The flowers sit in my closet on the shelf. She has no idea.
We go out and she smokes another cigarette, and then it’s time to leave.
I walk her to her car, give her a hug, and tell her to make sure to cash those tickets in.
She says she will.
I turn and walk back to my house. I’m disappointed. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see her again. I walk into my apartment dumbfounded. I go to bed immediately.
I sleep like shit. At one point, I wake up in a cold sweat. Disgusting.
I’m up every three hours.
I wake up at 8am and I can’t believe I have to work. I just get right to it. I want this day to be over as fast as possible.
Work is slow. I can’t seem to shake the feeling of disappointment. Endings just suck especially because girls I like are few and far between.
We weren’t even that emotionally invested, but it still sucks when timing is so off.
When work is done, I make some phone calls to family and friends to talk and help work through the disappointment.
They are all great and supportive and give me the standard advice of many fish in the sea, other train’s coming, girls who just want to fuck, etc.
My favorite comes from a text from my friend MM, and I quote “Out with the dumb-asses and in with the hot-asses.” I think that’s just brilliant. (Not to suggest my lady friend is a dumbass, on the contrary, she's very intelligent. Just confused.)
Friday was a long night until I met up with my neighbors downstairs and chill, but that didn’t start until 11PM. It was lonely before that.
I couldn’t stand being in my apartment so I forced myself out for a drink. I was happy I did.
Saturday morning I was having the most amazing dream and then right when it was about to go to ridiculousness I wake up to her face. Literally her face pops into my head and I snap awake. It's like a ghost. This is not cool.
I need to move on.
That dream was too good. Motherfucker.
I woke up and thought about what to do with the flowers. They were a beautiful set of four roses I picked out. I thought about throwing them away, but standing over the trash I realized they were too pretty to be wasted. So I decided to keep them.
My roommate and I now have them on the kitchen table. (See picture.)
When my roommate saw them, she said “She has no idea what’s she’s missing.”
I couldn’t agree more.
Saturday was a great day spent swimming, buying records, hanging with my neighbors and then my friend Jordan came into Venice and we went out drinking. It was like being back in South Africa again. I was glad he made it out.
Today was a good day as well. I worked. I’m getting over being disappointed.
I think and hope that we’ll still be friends. I’d like to. She’s mad cool.
You gotta respect that she came and told me in person. In this digital age, it would have been so easy for her to just disappear and send me a text or do it over the phone or via email.
I’m sure she was dreading having to say that. It couldn’t have been easy for her.
I was dreading hearing it and I kind of knew it was coming. Like I told her. I'm not shocked by this. I'm just disappointed.
I don’t know what happened in that month we didn’t see each other. Maybe her demons got to her. Maybe something else happened. Maybe the fish I cooked her wasn’t as good as she said. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
All I know is that it’s over. The lady friend I had disappeared somewhere after the last time I saw her and never came back. The girl who showed up in her place never even took off her jacket.
Morale of the story: Pursuing emotionally unavailable woman, although fun at first, soon starts to feel like you're chasing your own tail. Moving on...it just wasn't the appropriate time.
+++++++++++++++++++
"Bless Your Bones"
“This song is a special song to me for a lot of reasons, but, primarily, because I wrote it the day Aunt Helen passed away, about a very special woman we all love.
My mom and I were sitting in her living room in silence and I had my guitar in hand. I started to play a melody on it and I recognized it as being pretty, so I played it again. After a few repetitions, my mom picked up on it, and chimed in, “You should write a song for Aunt Helen and call it ‘Bless Your Bones.’”
I was more than up to the task. This was a perfect idea.
If there was one saying that I will always remember Aunt Helen for it’s for these three words. I had never heard anyone before or anyone since say them like she did – with so much feeling and so much southern charm. It makes me smile just thinking about it.
My mom and I used to laugh about how Aunt Helen made no bones that I was the favorite. She’d call my mom and my mom would give her updates on my siblings and they could be about to cure cancer and homelessness and Aunt Helen only had the slightest interest. When it came time to talk about me, my mom could say anything – “Well, Matthew’s in NYC in the middle of a three-month bender. He’s got no job. No future. No hope. No real plan. He lost his cell phone again last night,” and Aunt Helen’s response would be unwavering and full of love: Bless his bones.
It’s with this joy in her voice that I sat down in the room by myself to work what was a two chord riff into the song that you’re about to hear. It came out in a blur. I barely remember if it was written in one sitting or over six months. I think it was a little of both. I know it wasn’t so much me who wrote it as much as I was just a conduit for an emotion to be expressed. One that we can all relate to. One that we can all feel.
We will forever be connected with this song, and I hope every time you hear it you think of her. I know I will.
Neither myself or Aunt Helen are with you today physically, but I can assure you that we are both there in spirit.
We are both there in song.
Without further ado, “Bless Your Bones.””
-Groundswell’s letter to his mom so she can introduce “Bless Your Bones” at the memorial service.
I had spent two weeks record the song. I had pulled all the strings I could. I had Zolani from Freshlyground sing it (a surprise to my family), I had an amazing guitarist and better friend play lead guitar, I had a great friend play cello, and I played guitar, recorded everything but the vocals, mixed it, agonized over it, and for the majority of the process was delirious with a fever.
Needless to say, I loved it.
One of the best recording experiences of my life.
It awoke the music producer in me again. All I want to do is produce and write music now.
The cellist liked the song so much that he asked me to produce his demo. Done and done.
I’m ready to get out there and tell people I can do it. I just need to find the right people and the right time.
Music is back and Groudswell is ready to produce it.
To hear “Bless Your Bones,” you can download it hear until June 4, 2010: http://www.yousendit.com/download/dXFYZm1WaTFKV1B2Wmc9PQ
I got this note from the daughter of the lady I wrote “Bless Your Bones” about:
Dearest Groundswell:
I've put off writing you because, frankly, I have NO idea what to say. "Bless Your Bones" is and was the most incredible gesture I think I could ever imagine. That you would do this for my mom is so beyond anything I can wrap my head around that I've truly been rendered nearly speechless. I am so indebted to you, Zolani, Jay and Najeeb that I don't quite know what to do or say. I would NEVER, EVER have thought I would or could describe my mother's memorial service as "uplifting" or "joyous" . . . but in fact that's just what it was. Your lovely song, the words, the music, Zolani's incredible voice, the quality of the sound, the energy and love it conveyed turned an otherwise very somber and sad occasion, and what I was anticipating would be a VERY difficult day, into an absolutely beautiful and perfect experience. I am astounded, I am overwhelmed and I am above all honored with your incredibly touching gesture. On behalf of my sweet mother, who loved you so very much and who I know is smiling down from heaven at all of us, thank you.
With much love to you and your incredible collection of friends and collaborators,
[None of your business]
That’s it from LA.
Go Celtics!!!
Beat LA!!!
Love,
