I have this fantasy. I see an attractive man out some place. We see each other. He smiles at me. I smile back. Instinctively we walk towards one another entranced in a gaze of desire. Standing opposite, we share the most passionate kiss either of us has ever experienced. No words. No words. Just the warmth of breath and longing. I make love to this man. This perfect stranger. Engaged. Entangled. Enraptured.
Almost a year past before I heard the name Glenn Anderson again.
It's interesting what details stay fixed in the mind about someone after meeting them once; words they say, physical traits, things they do, things they don't do. If two women on two separate occasion go out on a date with the same man, repeating the exact same date, there's a fifty percent chance these women will return from their dates with entirely different measurements of the man. Attraction is born in the heart of that which she likes, conflicted by judgment in the mind of that which she does not.
My girlfriend told me about her date with Glenn Anderson.
I listened to my girlfriend carefully, hearing the details of where Glenn took her to dinner, how Glenn acted towards her, how he ordered his meal, his chicken Caesar salad; in fact, everything leading up to Glenn showing my girlfriend his directorial DVD, including the print on the wall, the wine, the tour of his house, was the exact same date I had with him; the only exception being her perception of how the date went.
I found myself intrigued.
"When he showed me the room he wants to turn into a baby room, he mentioned meeting a girl once he thought he could have kids with, and I swear he was talking about you." my girlfriend said. "He described you perfectly."
I let my girlfriend know Glenn and I only went out on the one date - almost a year ago. Glenn must have meant someone else.
"Did he tell you about the print hanging on his wall?" I asked.
"Print?" my girlfriend asked.
"The huge photo hanging on his wall of paint splashes." I explained.
"Oh that," she said. "A friend of his is a painter, some girl, and she was painting that thing for Glenn's house, but then something happened to the painting, I don't remember, but she took pictures of it I guess."
My girlfriend isn't into art. She most likely didn't notice the Rodin, or the craftsmanship of his furniture.
"I love the cute little steps in his house." my girlfriend said.
Right. The same cute little steps I nearly broke my big toe on.
"Did you tell him we're friends?" I asked her.
"I did." she said.
"How did he react?" I asked.
"Weird. But he's kind of a weird guy right?"
"Are you going to see him again?" I asked her.
"If he calls me, sure why not? I mean, that's okay right?" my girlfriend asked.
I knew my girlfriend well enough to know she does what she wants regardless, as most everyone does. I've long ago come to terms, life is a series of things you can either accept, or things you cannot, and to pick your battles wisely.
The next few days that followed I found myself thinking about Glenn Anderson. In total I reflected on our date for several hours. I compared Glenn to the directors I met when I was a teenage girl, Glenn was far more interesting. There were depths to Glenn's personality, like the landings in his house. There were bold yet struggling preciseness in the choices he made, like the print hanging on his wall. And there was a method to his madness, like his patterned routines.
I ransacked my apartment looking for Glenn Anderson's business card.
And,
There we were,
Once more,
Glenn Anderson and I,
Back at the same restaurant,
Glenn ordered his half Caesar salad with chicken, croutons and parmesan cheese in two separate containers on the side, lettuce and chicken tossed with dressing, fresh ground black pepper on top of the salad after it was brought to him.
Two bottles of wine - and we were back at Glenn's house.
I stepped into Glenn Anderson's front room with a clear and open mind. However my natural inclination to quickly assess my surroundings, I was going to force myself this time to symbolically askew my awareness in a different direction, no matter how random.
But when we got to that part of the evening where Glenn Anderson wanted to show me his directorial DVD once more, nature did, what nature does, and intervened.
I politely reminded Glenn I saw the DVD last time I was at his place.
"Oh." was all Glenn said.
I was determined to make the outcome of this night different between Glenn and I.
"It shouldn't be this hard." I said out loud but not intending to.
"What shouldn't be this hard?" Glenn Anderson repeated.
"This. Us. You. Me." I said.
Glenn thought for a moment, sighed, and then asked, "Why did you call me? You told me months ago we couldn't see each other again?"
You try condensing everything I've just written, down into a simple answer.
"Second chance?" I questioned.
"Seems you don't like me much." Glenn said pointing his finger at me.
"Seems you don't like me much." I replied.
I blame the wine. Any time you find yourself at the crossroads with a potential lover, always blame the wine. In a moment of absolute false wisdom, though I do not recall now how I got there, I thought perhaps if we verbally undo the things Glenn Anderson and I didn't like about one another, all that would be left are the things that we do like about one another. Again, I blame the wine.
"You go first." I offered.
Admiration can sometimes be found in the center of prejudice. It's just a matter of stripping away the quarrels of previous discontent.
"I hate your tattoos." Glenn Anderson said.
Fair enough. Girls with tattoos aren't for everyone. "I hate your house." I replied which wasn't entirely true. I didn't hate his house, the architecture just didn't make sense to me.
"I hate the way you pierce your lips shut when you want to say something but don't." Glenn Anderson said.
It's a nervous tick!
"I hate that you have a Rodin."
"You hate my Rodin?" Glenn asked.
"Not your Rodin. I hate that you have one. You. Never mind. Just go." I said.
"I hate that it took you 9 months to call me." Glenn said.
Actually it was 8 months but who's counting.
"I hate that you make it so complicated being together." I said.
[To be continued...]
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