Glenn Anderson stood silently in front of the colorful print hanging on his wall. It was suspended in a beautiful antique ornate frame. The frame was by and far more lavish than the print. The print itself was of a painting, primary colors, seemingly wanting to cross each other, haphazardly, perpendicular, and without any real sense of purpose or direction. It just looked... messy.
Something you hung on your wall out of polite obligation.
Dude, you have a Rodin!
What's worse, the print hung on the wall unevenly. I stood before the print with Glenn Anderson wondering how he didn't see that it needed to be straightened. The print hung prominently lower on the right side. Never leave your artwork hanging crooked in front of an artist, you'll drive them crazy. I wanted to give the print a few taps upward to straighten it out.
"Shall I open a bottle of wine?" Glenn asked.
I thought we were just going to look at your new directorial piece?
"Sure." I replied.
Glenn Anderson wanted me to ask about the print. It was a psychological tug-of-war. I didn't want to ask about the print. I wanted to ask him about the Rodin. But Glenn Anderson didn't want me to ask him about the Rodin. He wanted me to ask him about the print.
The reason I didn't ask Glenn Anderson about the print, was due to the fact I was annoyed he didn't seem to care about his Rodin. Sentiments are wonderful things. One's predilection for another makes life sweet. Be that as it may, regardless of what the print means to Glenn Anderson, when you can afford a Rodin, how can you just toss it aside?
I don't know what's worse; buying a Rodin simply because you can, or tossing it aside because it never mattered to begin with.
My friend Nick once told me a story about a shopkeeper in Italy who was using a Michelangelo painting as a door wedge totally unaware of what he had. While Nick was telling me this story I nearly had a heart attack.
The print hanging on the wall had more value to Glenn Anderson than the Rodin. Amazing. While endearments are never beyond the pale, Glenn's Rodin (at that time) I estimate was worth at least two million dollars. Glenn Anderson wasn't just some spoiled yuppie. He was also an artist, or rather a director of art. What little experience I had with directors, whatever my opinion was of directors at the time, I always respect people who succeed in their visionary craft, even if I dislike the material.
Glenn Anderson returned to the main front room with two glasses of red wine.
"Thank you." I said as he handed me one of the glasses.
"Salute." He said clinking his wine glass to mine.
"I like your home." I politely lied.
"Me too." He replied.
As we drank our wine I thought; this was the best conversation we had all evening.
"Want to show me your directorial piece?" I asked Glenn.
He carefully thought for a moment. I could see the struggle in his face and his desire to tell me about the print hanging on the wall. For whatever reason Glenn needed me to invite that topic into the open. Glenn wanted me to want to know about the print. Like the girl who wants her boyfriend to want to do the dishes. I want you to want me.
Glenn and I stood but a few inches apart from one another. Drinking our wine. Being nonchalant. Coy. Roguish. Minutes past. Then suddenly Glenn grabbed my hand and lead me to the couch. He took me by complete surprise. I never would have guessed Glenn Anderson to take a such bold initiative.
Glenn already had his directorial DVD cued into the player. I sat down on the sofa. Glenn sat down next to me holding his glass of wine upon my leg. He clicked on the TV and started the DVD player. I was excited. This directorial was his work. His project. I was about to witness a very personal side of Glenn Anderson at his most passionate.
And even though Glenn Anderson and I were not the least bit fittingly compatible, I was beginning to have faith there might still be a chance for an intimate romantic connection.
I watched the DVD with Glenn;
And,
It was not at all what I supposed it to be. Instead of his own creation, it was a 20 minute compilation of commercials Glenn had directed. Commercials I had seen on television many times: sleek expensive car commercials, upscale hotel ad campaigns, and exclusive salon hair products. In between each clip the credits rolled during behind the camera shots of Glenn, the actors, and the crew.
I don't know what I thought Glenn was going to show me. I guessed, I had hoped, it was going to be something independent, something entirely his own, something driven by the pounding of his heart.
These commercials were all things a director does for money, not because he aches to.
Or,
Maybe at the time,
I was the one who needed to see Glenn Anderson in that artistic light. Maybe it was my own selfish need to have Glenn Anderson bear his soul to me.
I smiled at Glenn.
"That was... wonderful." I lied. "I've seen these commercials on TV. I love them." I lied some more.
Glenn Anderson seemed pleased.
"Come here." Glenn instructed holding out his hand, "Let me show you the house."
I placed my hand in his and we stood up together. Glenn lead me to one of the small 3-step landings where I tripped on one of the steps. I caught myself before any wine splashed out of the glass. I stubbed my big toe.
We walked down a small corridor as Glenn pointed out the closets and a few personal photos hanging on the wall. Seemed odd to me he would hang personal photos in a darkened hallway where no one would see them unless they were getting bath towels.
We reached another 3-step landing where once again I tripped going up the tiny steps. Once again stubbing my big toe. This time a little wine splashed out of my glass.
"Don't worry about it." Glenn said casually.
Glenn took me for a tour around his house. The kitchen. The formal dining room. The informal dining room. His office. The Den. The back sitting room. The bathrooms. The bedrooms.
"What's this room for?" I asked. The room was empty. Completely bare.
"Well, honestly, I'd like to turn this into a baby room," he said looking at me thoughtfully, "hopefully sooner than later."
I felt like I just had the wind knocked out of me. Didn't we cover this already? I thought I was going to pass out.
My dad once told me; A king can own all the property in the land but he will always want the one thing not on his property. Dad's words never felt more truer than at that moment with Glenn Anderson. I wanted Glenn Anderson's soul. He wanted a baby. In retrospect I suppose that's a fair exchange. But not today. And not with me. Ever.
I simplified my date with Glenn Anderson as being a conflict with our age difference. Stands to reason a man of his age wanting a family, just usually not on the first date. Although not uncommon. I once went out on (what was supposed to be) a dinner date with a man, someone I had just met, who wouldn't even have dinner with me after he asked if I wanted children and I replied no. "I want a woman who wants kids." Was all he said, then paid for our drinks and left the restaurant. I was shocked. But in time I got used to it.
"It's getting late." I said.
"You never think about settling down?" Glenn Anderson asked me.
"Not on the first date." I joked. Glenn Anderson didn't think it was funny.
Clearly disappointed, Glenn Anderson guided me back down towards the front room of his house. I stumbled a few times going down the landings. Glenn Anderson didn't seem to notice.
I felt it best Glenn Anderson drove me back to the restaurant where we met, rather than drive me home. He didn't disagree.
During the drive back I inquired, "Tell me about the print on your wall."
"A friend gave it to me." Was all Glenn Anderson said.
Once we were back at the restaurant where our night began, I politely thanked Glenn for a nice evening. He didn't say anything. Instead Glenn Anderson just drove away.
Glenn called me a few times. I returned his call once. I told him I couldn't see him again. He pursued a few more times before giving up.
I thought that was the end of Glenn Anderson.
But then,
Around 8 months later a girlfriend of mine told me the most interesting story about a certain director she had met and gone on a date with...
[To be continued...]
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