The Return of Francois Dubois

After a long week away, Olivier, a.k.a. Francois Dubois, returned. He was in Japan, for the IndyCar race there. (His team started P2 and finished P5, which, considering what a rough year they've had, was somewhat of a victory.) He got back on Monday, a little after lunchtime, and was utterly wiped out from the flight.

He brought Heidi and me some lovely gifts—a Japanese fan for me, a kitty figurine and a T-shirt for Heidi, and some chocolate-covered almonds for us to share. (Those went quick.) After doling them out, he basically passed out from exhaustion.

It's lovely having him back. I missed him! And now we can plan our upcoming trips in earnest: Miami and the Florida Keys in October, California to visit Didier and Amber in November, France in December/January. I can't wait. It's wonderful to have so much exciting travel to look forward to!

A Reunion

Last night I enjoyed a lovely dinner with some very old friends--people I hadn't seen in almost a decade, since before Heidi was born, let alone conceived. It was wonderful to catch up.

They live in Boston, which I am visiting on business. For one ill-fated semester in college, I lived here, attending Boston College and skiing for the ski team there. It was a disaster--everyone hated me (or at least I thought they did). My only refuge was at the home of these friends, Pepper and Stephanie, who took me in far more often than they probably would have liked. Pepper's mother had been recently divorced, and she had moved in with Pepper and Stephanie and their toddler daughter, Laura, as had two of Pepper's younger brothers, one of whom was about my age. The house was plenty full without me. But they never made me feel anything less than completely welcome. They were my family during a time when I desperately needed one.

We are all older now, obviously, and it is interesting the ways in which I have "caught up" with them. When I was in college, they were in their late 20s or early 30s, doctors both, with a young daughter and a large house. Now we seem closer in age.

In any case, it is strange to be back in Boston. It is a lovely city. I flew in yesterday morning, and as we descended we hovered briefly over the BC campus, and I clearly saw the football stadium and from there was able to pick out my old dorm. I did the math and realized it had been 18 years since I lived here, a lifetime ago, and suddenly felt very old--but also very glad that I was no longer that girl, sad and miserable.

Health Care Debate

So I work with this one author, who I actually quite like, but who happens to be a fairly hard-core Republican. I hadn't talked to him for a few months, but we just got paired up for a book, so today we got back in touch. We often talk politics and give each other all kinds of shit, so naturally he took a shot at me over the whole health-care debate. I was so pleased with my response that I decided to share it:

Yes, well, God forbid poor people should have access to reasonably priced health care. That would be an absolute travesty. I much prefer we just let them all suffer/go broke/die; it’s the Christian thing to do. Besides, what could possibly be more important than insurance companies’ profits? Take me, for example. I’d much rather continue to pay $300 per month for a plan that covers virtually nothing and from which I can be cut simply for catching the sniffles than have access to a public plan that would ensure that, in the event I or my daughter become ill or injured, we receive the care we need without losing our home and our dignity in the process. I mean, it’s obviously far more important that top insurance-company executives continue to be able to spend their summers on Nantucket. But in the event Obama’s plan does go through, I’d like to apply to serve on the government’s death panel. Obviously, the government won’t be able to run a death panel anywhere NEAR as efficiently as the private sector does now, but I still have some people I’d like to assess….

And, in a nutshell, this is exactly what I think about it: I simply cannot conceive of an argument--other than "Gee, won't this cost an awful lot?" which is, of course, a legitimate concern--against offering a public option. Okay, yes, it could make life hard for insurance companies, but honestly? The way they've conducted themselves? Fuck 'em. You want to stay relevant? Adapt. Provide better service, more care, rewards for good health practices, whatever. But don't ask me to feel sorry for an industry that routinely denies care and/or seeks ways to cut "risky" customers from its rolls. I've long believed that insurance companies are evil, and I'll continue to believe that until they are forced to act otherwise.

As for the cost issue, well, yeah, I guess it will. Maybe our taxes will rise. But they certainly won't rise at the same rate as our insurance premiums. And if one opts for the public option and can then drop one's current private coverage, wouldn't it all come out in the wash anyway? And even if it doesn't, I'd be willing take a hit if it meant there was no way I could denied care or dropped in the event I became sick or injured. I'd consider that a "peace of mind" tax.

Ultimately, I don't believe any company should profit over my health, good or bad. No decision about what treatment I or my daughter receives--if any--should be in any way tied to whether someone somewhere receives his or her annual bonus. The whole private system is creepy. If that makes me a Socialist, then so be it. I've been called worse things.

On the topic of the whole "Socialist" thing: I mean, it's not like Capitalism has proven to be so great. (Exhibit A: The Economy.) Why is it, exactly, that we can't take the good parts of various economic systems and mash them together? Is that breaking some sort of rule I don't know about? I'm pretty sure not, since don't we already do that in other areas anyway? I mean, what are farm subsidies? What are trade agreements? Aren't those tools to dull some of the harder edges of capitalism?

A Vindication of Love

So I'm reading this book called "A Vindication of Love" by Cristina Nehring and it's about how these days, everybody's all panties-in-a-bunch-y about love--or, put another way, "at the dawn of the 21st century, political correctness, cynicism, pragmatism, [etc.] have reduced romantic love to a discredited myth." And I do think I agree with that premise. Even I have, in my own mind, reduced my whole year of craziness with S to just that: craziness. And anytime I've ever tried to talk about it with friends, I see them look at me with some degree of pity, their obvious stance being that I had deluded myself somehow, that what I think was "love" was anything but. So in a way, reading this book is making me feel a little better about all that, like maybe what I experienced was something transcendent instead of just insane. Like maybe the fact that my feelings for S have faded, that I've moved on and even found love with someone else (someone who, let's be honest, is far more suitable, at least insofar as he is not currently married to someone else), doesn't mean those feelings I had for S were anything less than love.

In any case, the real reason I'm writing is because there was one quote in the book that I particularly liked, by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

"It never troubles the sun that some of his rays fall wide and vain into ungrateful space, and only a small part on the reflecting planet. Let your greatness educate the cold and crude companion. If he is unequal, he will presently pass away; but thou, thou art enlarged by thy own shining."

I think I love this so much because it reminds me of that Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins lyric: "You are what you love, not what loves you back." And I think I love that lyric so much because it reminds me, again, that what matters is what I put out, not what I pull in.

One Year

I had put this blog aside for a time, but for a while now I've felt like I wanted to begin again, and what better day than today, one year to the day since my last post? It's just too nice of a coincidence. Added to that, I ran into Dr. Dottie, my therapist, who I hadn't seen since last July. I used to read my blog posts to her during my sessions, and seeing her today made me think maybe the universe was speaking to me, telling me to get back to writing for writing's sake, so I decided to just listen already.

So. No doubt you're all--all none of you--dying to know what's happened to me in the last year. The truth is, some things are the same. Still working as a freelance writer and editor. Still hanging out with my BFF K. Still enjoying my gorgeous daughter, who's creeping up like a ninja on her ninth birthday. Still trying to get my dog to quit trying to kill the mailman. Still sitting at my cafe and working most days. Some things, though, are different. For one, I fell in love. With someone who is kind and sweet, and who fell in love with me, too. It's been more than lovely.

Details: O. is French. He's too young for me (30). He is my next-door neighbor. He works for an Indy Car team as an engineer. He loves to cook. He's handy around the house. He cleans my gutters for me--without my even asking. He wants to have sex with me constantly and I am more than happy to oblige. He's stubborn and somewhat of a malcontent, but in a charming way. In all the time we've been together, we have never once had a fight (although he has accidentally made me cry a time or two--but nobody's perfect).

He's lived next door to me the whole time I've lived here (for those of you who don't remember, I moved out of my husband's house in April of 2007), and we had always been friendly--impersonal chats over the backyard fence, etc. For some reason, last November, I fretted that he might not have anywhere to spend Thanksgiving (it hadn't occurred to me that as he is French, he probably didn't much care). So I left a note for him in his mailbox telling him that if he didn't have any plans, he was more than welcome to spend the day with my family (naturally, I warned him that there are a lot of us and we are loud). A few days later he stopped by to tell me that he did have other plans, but would I like to come over for dinner some night?

So the night before Thanksgiving, I went over to his place, and we chatted for a while, and then he served me a lovely dinner (pork roast and potatoes), and we shot some pool in his basement, and generally goofed around. But I didn't think a lot about whether he was interested. As I mentioned, he's younger than I am, and I sort of figured I was just the sad old lady next door or whatever. The next day I saw him outside; he said he had a great time hanging out, and we should do it again. So we decided I'd cook dinner for him a few days later at my house. In the interim, H. and I watched the Colts game at his house one afternoon.

It went like that for a couple of weeks--we watched some games together, we traded off meals. We also started emailing each other a bit. At some point I revealed that I spoke a bit of French, and he was impressed. One afternoon, he sent me an email that said he'd have to be careful; my French was so good, he could get into real trouble if he said something naughty. So I wrote back that he shouldn't worry; if he talked fast, there was no way I'd be able to understand him. So he wrote back, "Alors, je parlerai lentement"--"Then I will speak slowly." And I was all "Omigod! He's hitting on me! Holy fuck!" And my pelvis did that thing where it gets all soupy, and my heart started pounding, and my palms sweated a bit.

After that, it was just a matter of time before one of us (him) got the balls to kiss the other (me). And since then, it's been on.

Obviously, I don't know where it's all going. There's a certain girl in Montreal who, it seems to me, still has a bit of a hold on him, although he swears up and down that it's over--he's with me now, and he's happy that way. And there are some immigration issues--i.e., he doesn't have a green card, so if he loses his job, he's got 30 days to get a new job (in the same field) or else he'll be deported. And he's generally got a restless spirit; I don't know whether he'd want to stay here for the long haul. But I love him, and I like him, and so I try to avoid getting bogged down in all that; I try to stay in the here and now and just enjoy it.

So far I'm managing it.

For the most part.

Five Strengths

So yesterday I wrote that I couldn't play to my strengths because I couldn't figure out what the hell they are. Which made it all the more amazing when, during a chance encounter and out of the blue, a friend suggested I visit this Web site that had a questionnaire about determining one's strengths (http://www.authentichappiness.com).

So I did. And here's what it told me:

• Your Top Strength: Appreciation of beauty and excellence. You notice and appreciate beauty, excellence, and/or skilled performance in all domains of life, from nature to art to mathematics to science to everyday experience.
• Your Second Strength: Forgiveness and mercy. You forgive those who have done you wrong. You always give people a second chance. Your guiding principle is mercy and not revenge.
• Your Third Strength: Curiosity and interest in the world. You are curious about everything. You are always asking questions, and you find all subjects and topics fascinating. You like exploration and discovery.
• Your Fourth Strength: Bravery and valor. You are a courageous person who does not shrink from threat, challenge, difficulty, or pain. You speak up for what is right even if there is opposition. You act on your convictions.
• Your Fifth Strength: Humor and playfulness. You like to laugh and tease. Bringing smiles to other people is important to you. You try to see the light side of all situations.

And I guess I'd say all this sounds about right. So the question becomes, how do I harness these in such a way that I can move away from wanting to just fucking die every day?

That's It, Then.

This morning E. and I called it, this time, I assume, for good. Things have been off for a while, and eventually I sort of couldn't take it anymore, so I sent him this email on Friday:

I’m feeling sad because I'm getting a pretty strong vibe that you're not into this whole thing, meaning "us," or whatever it's called. A while back, I made the mistake of reading this book called "He's Just Not That Into You," and I am sorry to report that you are displaying rather a large number of the behaviors noted therein.

I know that you're going through a lot, and it's all extremely difficult and confusing, and I want to be helpful; I'm trying to be helpful. And for a while, it seemed like you were less confused. It seemed like you were turning toward me somehow. But something's shifted; I can feel you receding. And maybe it's cyclical, maybe you'll come back around. I don't know.

The thing is, again, I'm not asking you to make some big promise about some nebulous future; I'm just as unsure about whether I'd want that with you as you are about whether you'd want it with me. You mentioned the other day that you weren't sure you ever wanted to be married again; I can assure you, that's not what I'm asking of you here. I'm just asking to be permitted to feel like I'm a priority now--not the only priority, and not the highest priority, but important nonetheless. Because for the last few weeks, I have not felt that way. I don't hear from you much, and I don't get the sense that you're terribly interested in making plans to see me, and I don't feel like when we are together I can quite get your attention; I don't feel quite like you're listening. And I’m back to feeling a little bit like I could be just anyone here, like you're not particularly interested in me, personally. And naturally all this is making me feel very bad.

And maybe part of this is me--my natural inclination to believe the worst in a situation like this, my inability to believe that someone could ever feel anything for me at all. I concede that I'm extremely insecure in this department.

But maybe it's not.

So I guess, here it is, me officially asking: If you are not that into this--and by "into this," I mean "interested in me," "happy in my company," "at least a little bit sad when we're apart," "possibly slightly curious to see where all this might lead," etc., but not "committing myself to a lifetime in this person's company"--can you please let me know, so I can stop feeling shitty about things and try to move on? And if you are into this, can you please maybe try to act in such a way that I can feel like I'm a little bit special here, like I'm a priority?

He fobbed me off all weekend--busy with kids, Fathers Day, etc.--which basically gave me my answer, but today he came over to have The Talk, in which he basically said that he was really really really sorry but that he couldn't give me what I needed and that he hadn't realized how screwed up his kids were going to be about all this (I'd met them at a cookout, introduced as "a friend," but they were onto us, and were sort of awful to me), and that being with me had allowed him to forget, for a while, all that he's feeling about his divorce, but that it's all still there, underneath, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep from hurting me, over and over again, each time it bubbled up. And I let him talk, let him say his bit. I didn't cry, just looked past him, out the window at the Japanese maple in my front yard, and when he finally finished talking I told him that I knew as much, that I'd known as much from the start, but that I'd hoped he'd come around, that I was a jackass for having started in with him in the first place. And then I got up and gathered the various things he's given me over the last two and a half months--a painting, a sculpture--but he wouldn't take them back. And he gave me a hug, and he asked me if he could call me, and I asked him why he'd even want to, and he said to talk, and I just sort of shrugged, a classic "Whatever" gesture, and he was gone.

And I'm really sad. Really really really sad. I can see, obviously, that it’s probably the right thing for both of us to split up. He frankly doesn’t really have any business dating anyone at all; and as for me, I can’t see how it’s good for me to be with someone who’s not prepared to have something real.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself in an attempt to just get through today. Because I can feel myself slipping again, slipping somewhere very painful and unpleasant, and I really really really really don't want to go.