You can file the following little anecdote under Welcome Distractions, poppets. Remember Prince Charming? Go ahead. Clickety-click, I'll wait.
Lovely, hmm? I remember that that particular story made our favourite girl squee at the possible romantic implications, and honestly, I admit to getting carried away with the 824 fairy tale endings I was able to concoct in the first three minutes. Plus, there�s nothing I love more than a story with weird time-gone-by elements. It�s second only to a good first-they-were-enemies-and-now-they�re-in-love story.
However, as these things go, the pink fuzzies fade after a while, real life encroaches and by the time we had exchanged a few emails, and made vague promises to meet up for a drink and some catch-up, a lot of time had passed, and it just never happened. I was busy with work and then he was busy with work, and then we both had social obligations, and eventually I had to leave for Iowa, and then he had to leave for Pakistan for a few months on business, and that brought us up to the autumn, where I have to confess to more or less forgetting about the entire thing.
Then, we lost Frankie.
I later learned that right around that time, some deadly earthquakes were happening somewhere, somehow... I was only dimly aware of what was occurring outside my own house, and really didn't realize how Pakistan had been ravaged until a newspaper found itself in front of my face. Poppets, I'm ashamed to say I could only muster enough energy to vaguely wonder if Tour-bus Frank was still there, and if he was safe, and then I promptly I forgot about him, and the 30,000 people that were stolen in a horrible moment. I had other things to cry about.
Two days ago, upon the advice of the doctor who attended Frankie that night, I went to my general practitioner to get requisitions for a Holter monitor, an echocardiogram, and a battery of blood tests.
Lately, poppets, your Mare hasn't been bothering too much with the things that used to be her non-negotiable necessities, and so I'm a little embarrassed to say that I was a bit of a mess when I entered the doctor's office waiting room on Tuesday afternoon. There wasn't a lot of makeup involved, and God knows, my hair is sporting some serious Medusa qualities of late, and I don't even remember what shoes I was wearing.
So I'm sitting there, not making much eye contact with the other patients, preferring to read the same page of my book four times over. Eventually though, that gets old, and my natural inclination to people-watch kicked in. (No, I do not have a staring problem, you just get that out of your mind right now.)
You know where this is going, right? You know that three chairs away from me, Tour-Bus Frank is sitting there, not recognizing me, not paying me much mind, and making me increasingly aware of the fact that I'm not wearing mascara.
So very strange. Back in '89, when went to Italy, we all had a laugh because we found out that Mary, Frank�s sister, and I went to the same doctor. I had no idea that Frank was a patient as well, or that 16 years later, after he�s moved across the city, he still is. And there he sat, not recognizing me. (Proof, in case you were wondering, that there is a God.)
He�s filled out a little, so he�s not so gangly, not all arms and legs and long of face. The cut of his jaw is stronger, and he fills his space cleanly. He�s got presence, and at 39, he�s looks about 35, so he�ll age well. My gaydar went off � not like a Las Vegas slot machine, mind you � but I did get a faint inkling. Of course, that could be nothing but wishful thinking on my part, as I�ve always had a weakness for boys who like boys.
After he was called into an examining room, I confirmed his name with one of the receptionists, and confirmed what I already knew. I thought of emailing him and saying, �I saw you today� but honestly, have you seen my hair lately?
The fact is I�m not really ready to make small talk with long-lost strangers, which is an unfamiliar state for me. Frankly, I�m relieved he didn�t recognize me, because lately, simple questions like �How are you?� are too difficult to answer, especially to people who don�t already know the response.
It�s just weird, you know? Things like this keep happening of late. Unexpected holidays fall into place without effort; near-strangers from the past keep popping up out of nowhere. Things I really want are cropping up and turning themselves my way � real estate opportunities, scheduling issues, professional coups. God, even my horoscope has been kind to me this week. I don�t know what it means, but I feel like I need to pull out that stupid Celestine Prophecies thing that had me all atwitter when I was twenty-two.
I don�t know what�s happening, but at this point, distraction can only be a good thing.
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