Tuesday, July 31, 2012

In which our heroine has a successful blind date

Okay, it wasn't really a blind date, but it was significantly visually impaired. It wasn't your typical date, because it was not with a person, not even a precious feline at the shelter, no it was with a neighborhood. 

We had been eyeing each other, me more warily perhaps, as I traveled north to "visit" but really all I did was circle the same blocks for parking before my class. Taking sidelong glances I considered, vaguely and without any really commitment or desire, what it would be like to live here. But I was still terribly attached and unwilling to let go of the other habitat despite the lack of any long term future being available.This was a relationship where one partner is just there, and I was the partner who was experiencing unrequited love - fully aware that there would be no ring and yet could not imagine being anywhere else.

Finally, however the time had come to make a break. So with the hope of some New Relationship Energy (NRE), I began checking out potential mates. Scoping out craigslists and then doing background checks on potential mates via google streetview, I slowly weeded out the deadbeats, the high maintenance glamours pusses, and the poseurs. Then came time for the coffee dates, and there were quite a number. Because of the time and travel involved I double, triple and quadrupled booked the suitors back to back, knowing it was likely none of them would take too much time. The first day of meet ups landed me two horrid matches and one that seemed good, but I didn't want to settle; I mean I had only begun to look.

The next day of showings I got stood up, which was mightily disappointing because the block felt right - a church across the street and another three doors down, it reminded me of an early love, Cobble Hill. You know how powerful those old loves can be, sometimes you don't even recognize the similarities before you are unreasonably smitten. The other beaus did not compare that day. Finally a few days later I returned and the next to last abode was meh, and I was talking myself into it; you know the speech: well I could work with the potential, I recognize the things that will make me crazy in a few months, but I don't want to be alone. But then! I returned to site of heartache, the one that I thought got away, that I foolishly was sure that day was the one. The moment I crossed the threshold of the front door I was hooked. Yet I held my breath, there were flights to climb before I could know, perhaps this swain was all surface and no heart. 

Sometimes we know our fate the minute we meet our next mate, this was one of those times. Despite the crossed wires of days earlier, I knew deep in my heart that this, this was my new home. We declared our mutual affection by way of handing over a deposit so no other suitors could be lured by it's charms.

I was giddy, positively gleeful; a sense of relief washed over me knowing my unrequited adoration could be let go of. And yet, I was also sad, mourning the sweet embrace without commitment. In the time The Cabin and I had been together I had learned a lot of love without attachment, about being alone within it's confines. The process of actually separating was harder than I expected, and at the same time exactly as painful as I expected. 

My first night The Studio was comical to say the least. There was four pieces of furniture and some boxes and it was hotter than hell on the third floor of a south facing apartment but I picked up some Thai food, and a bottle of Moscato. I took a cool bath before commencing the wine bottle opening - what a debacle, I felt like the fifth awkward wheel of the girls on Sex and the City. If it had been such a program, I would have knocked on my neighbor’s door - who course would be gorgeous and we would wind up in bed. But no, it was just me struggling with a towel, a cheap 99cent corkscrew, sweating on my freshly bathed skin. But still it was a successful first date - the wine store attendant was friendly, the wine was spectacular, and the pad thai was delightful. I returned to The Cabin for the ongoing process of moving on.

About a week later our next involved a search for food and air conditioning as the July heat wave continued and I found myself at the Daily Grind, enjoying iced coffee and a salad. Upon readying to pay my bill and exit, I struck up a conversation with my server. A delightful chat and learned about First Fridays - what a charming thing! I proceeded to wander up and down Lark Street and stopping at Elisse Halloran's shop - I saw many possible birthday presents to buy myself in a few months. As it turned out Elisse was in the shop and we chatted quite amicably and I met her adorable dog JoJo. At this point I was seriously crushing on my new locale. 

It is now a week or so later, and I haven't been up here much, though as of yesterday I am feeling like I live here which, given that we (The Studio and I) have only spent the night together four times thus far, is quite remarkable. Granted I am still the babe with commitment issues but I am really digging my NRE right now.