A Binary Choice

I decided recently to delete my Yahoo email account. The account security for Yahoo is, well, shit. There's no SSL encryption for anything beyond initial sign in, and of the three email accounts I've had in my life, it's the only one that I've ever received spam FROM MYSELF from multiple times, even after changing the password. Not even Hotmail is that bad. I don't talk much about this, because I haven't talked about what started it really, but suffice to say it's a story for another time.

Deleting a years-old email account is a bit of a process. Not just in figuring out how to physically remove it (Yahoo makes the process itself unintuitive for what I feel are fairly obvious reasons), but in how and what to keep from it before you go. There's receipts, notes, registration information. Things you can't just delete, without possibly causing yourself a headache later. There's also something else, that is much more nostalgic than you'll probably initially realize: old correspondences. They're a funny thing. In the time that you write them, they're just another method of communicating with someone, and these days, an especially dated one. In a world where text messaging, Facebook and Twitter exist, it's generally much easier and faster to communicate through one of those methods. But those methods all have something in common that email writing does not: an emphasis on keeping things brief and to the point. Facebook and especially Twitter are great for making jokes, quick observations or sharing links quickly. What they aren't good for is being conversational. Or at least, what we view as conversational now. I think society is moving away from that kind of interpersonal communication. As the value of privacy is evaporating and changing, so too is the value of interpersonal secrecy and intimacy. We're sharing more of less of ourselves every day.

When you go back and read an email from a couple years ago (and everyone has one of these), you can find yourself taken aback by it. Long form communication tends to age like wine. It shares more about you and about the person you're corresponding with the more time goes on. Reading a lengthy email from say 2009 is not just a reminder of the frame of events of the time, it's also a codex of your personality from the era. I've mentioned before how time alters radically your perspective of your past behavior, how giving yourself that emotional distance and opportunity to grow sheds light on how you weren't grown, and weren't objective with yourself. You can look back on something you said and break down your intent, your execution, and all of the complex machinery of your personality. It's part of why writing a journal is, to me, extremely important. Every step forward merits a look back. I want to, need to understand myself, and through the exercise of expression, hope to be understood. I think it's the closest you can be to enlightenment, and our only real foothold on immortality.


Sunday, July 5th, 2009 was about the worst day of my life. I got a call from Alyssa sometime in the early to mid afternoon. She was crying. She told me that Travis' dad had passed away, finally succumbing to his long bout with cancer. I immediately felt like shit. I felt like shit because Ken was a great guy. I felt like shit because I didn't spend enough time to get to know him, that my link to his life was much smaller than it should have been. I felt like a piece of shit because I never visited him in the hospital. I could explain the reasons all day. My grandmother died of brain cancer when I was a small child. I don't know how to interact with sick people. I was a major social coward at the time. What matters is that I didn't, and I knew I didn't. For awhile I told people that I had planned to soon, even that day, but that wasn't true, and the latter part was even more selfishly to hype the story up, make it better fiction. I try not to do that, but I do sometimes, and it disgusts me.

I'm emotionally a stoic person. It's hard to make me cry. I take pains to make myself impenetrable in many emotionally charged moments. I've heard it's a very old school thing to do. I don't think it's weak to cry, but I feel like it's my job to have the strength not to around others. I don't look down on people who do, but I don't want to allow myself to falter in that way. Alyssa was a mess, so it seemed the only right thing to do was let everyone know in her stead. So down I went, through my phone, calling everyone who knew Travis or could be tangibly linked to pass them the information. I must have called 20 people.

I don't remember now if I called or texted my girlfriend of the time, Stephanie. I must have called her and gotten her machine, because I do vaguely remember sending her two texts. She had only met Travis a handful of times, and it was really more of a courtesy than anything. She didn't have to say anything. There wasn't anything to say. She couldn't have made Travis feel better. Regardless, I felt like she needed to know.

The version of this story that I've told has me calling my girlfriend last, with the perfectly lined up conversation that followed. Bam, bam, misery in a precise measure. The truth is life isn't that neat, and honestly no one expects it to be, but something can be lost in the retelling. Truthfully I don't remember how long it was after I called and texted Stephanie that she got back to me. Maybe I called her again or maybe she got me. When I picked up the phone, my intent was to tell her about Ken's passing. When she picked up the phone, her intent was to tell me that she wanted to break up with me. It didn't happen as dramatically as:


"My best friend's dad just died."
"I think we should see other people."


When she said the words, "I want to break up with you," they felt like they came out of left field. Of all the things I was ready to hear, that wasn't one of them. I probably felt the same way Courtney had felt years before when I similarly broke up abruptly. I was at a loss for rational words. I couldn't believe the insensitivity of what I was hearing. My friend's dad just fucking died! I remember emotion taking hold of my tongue. Specifically, anger. I couldn't stop saying, "Really?" and "Are you fucking kidding me? After what I just told you, are you fucking kidding me?" She had mentioned before that many of her previous boyfriends she had broken up with abruptly, but she wasn't going to do that to me. That got brought up and referenced heavily. It was the emotional equivalent of throwing pillows at her from the couch. Largely ineffectual, basically pathetic, and without an instant of me being on my feet.

What happened after that is mostly a blur to me. I remember talking with Alyssa. I remember Alyssa talking with Stephanie. I remember doing what I'm famous for: breaking something more by trying to frantically put it back together. I remember utter despair. I called Paulina, and said, "One of my best friend's dad just died."
"I'm sor-"
"And my girlfriend broke up with me when I told her."

And then I remember San Francisco, an entire bottle of Jameson, hitting the pillow at 4:08AM and a whole lot of running away from emotion.

I left for work at 7 that morning from Paulina and Eric's apartment. To say I was hung over would be inaccurate. It would be far more accurate to say I had unwittingly endured a prolonged braining from a sledgehammer somewhere between when I hit the pillow and when I woke up. The cab driver was Russian, distant. I was happy he didn't want to have a conversation. I way over-tipped him, got in my car, flicked on my GPS, and was on my way. Windows down, radio blasting, anything to keep myself focused. I drove straight as an arrow out of San Francisco.

First time I ever made it to work early. I left less than twenty minutes later.

The more I tried to put it back together, the more it fell apart. At the time, I couldn't understand. Part of me didn't want to. Part of me didn't have the space to even be able to. We both had problems, clear signposts that this moment had been coming. She had a bad knee, multiple surgeries bad, and wanted to play basketball. She said she had been pushed by her dad to play, hard. I didn't know much about her family. I knew it was bad. I knew she had a brother. I knew she lived with grandparents. I cared about her, and I thought that the best way to express that was to discourage her from playing basketball. I saw it as an illness. She had been pushed and pushed and pushed into doing this and that seemed to me to make it self-justifying. It was feeding a dysfunctional part of her. And her knee wasn't going to last forever. Should I have told her this? I am glad I did, but I don't think it was my place to become the antagonist, which is exactly what I made myself. I didn't stop to think, what else does she have? There were many tiny ways we weren't connected. I took on the role of Person Who Is Going To Tell You How It Is. Oblivious to the fact that no one likes that person, let alone loves him or her.

When it was obvious even to me that it was unsalvageable, things started to darken very quickly for me. I became more moody, more withdrawn. I didn't want to be around people. I didn't want to interact. I just wanted to hit the reset button. I didn't want to accept that I was as hurt as I was. I jumped back into dating, or at least tried. I went on a couple of awful dates, then went on one sorta nice one with a girl named Davida. She wasn't particularly attractive and she lived too far away in SF, but I unloaded some of my growing bile on her and she was cool about it. At that point, that was good enough for me. We decided to meet up at the Castro theater to see a movie. I've already told this story. I cracked trying to tell this story to Travis while we were getting food and ended up screaming, "fuck every girl I've ever dated and fuck me for being stupid enough to date them."

Early November 2009 rolls around, and a friend of mine came back into town, one I hadn't seen in quite a long time. I had asked her out about a year before in what was simultaneously the most embarrassing and adorable thing I'd ever tried. And it worked. We went out and were out for probably 8 hours, just talking and talking and talking. She was fucking amazing. I couldn't believe that I had managed it. But then she told me she was a polyamorist, and I decided I was better off staying on the friend level, because knowing myself, it would just drive me nuts.

A year later, I didn't give a shit. We went out to dinner and for the first time in months, I actually had a completely positive social interaction with a girl. I told her about all that transpired the past year and I felt better about it. It didn't come out as bitterly as it wanted to. Just talking to her made me feel better. I felt like I wasn't alone on a planet of hostile girls. I felt like she cared, because she did. We talked again, for hours, about everything from fiction writing to the golden rule, in any shop that would hold us until closing. Somewhere between 1 and 2 in the morning, we were sitting in my car, while I said, "Holy shit look at the time." She asked if she could kiss me.



On Sat, 11/14/09, Luz wrote:
Subject: My Saturday morning babel or what I'm really thinking
Date: Saturday, November 14, 2009, 10:58 AM

Hi Bryan,

So I'm going out on limb and going to share a bunch of stuff with you. For starters I'm very attracted to you. I think you are very smart, witty, funny, cute, and very good looking. Every time we've hung out I've so enjoyed our conversations. I appreciate that it's so easy to talk to you and that you are so open about what's going on with you. On that note I want to be open with you. As I said last night, I'm in an open relationship. It is a very big part of my life. My boyfriend, Dustin, is my partner, my friend, and my lover. The fact that our relationship is open is a cornerstone of our relationship. I share this with you because I want you to know that, while Dustin is significant to me, having experiences outside "the box" is equally important to me. Ok what I'm really getting at is I'm really excited to see you again and I'd so love to jump your bones, but that's not the only thing I'm interested in. I'm hoping we can have is a really great friendship. Friendship is the most important thing to me. What I heard from you last night was that you've been through a lot recently in your relationships (romantic and otherwise), that you've been hurt, and felt mistreated. Now you are trying to heal from that and change certain patterns. I want to support you in that. Do you have an idea of how I can do that? Another way to ask that is, Do you know what you want in regards to us? I appreciate honesty and I know that what is true today may not be true tomorrow, so changing your mind is perfectly acceptable. My greatest fear is that this letter with cause you to go way again, like the last one did. I share this fear not because I expect you to do anything about it but because voicing my fears makes them less scary. If all this is too much please just let me know. I'm sorry if I'm coming across as rushing things or pushing. I'm just not into beating around the bush. I feel that by sharing my feelings and desires I actually have less chance of getting hurt even though I'm opening up and being vulnerable. Ok that's my Saturday morning babel. If you want to talk about any of this in person, give me a call. I'm available to day until 4pm and then after 9pm. I'm pretty much booked all day tomorrow (babysitting), but could talk on the phone. I await your reply (I'm not going to hold my breath but I am going to check my e-mail every 10 min) :p

Hugs, Luz



On Sat, Nov 14, 2009 at 2:21 PM, Bryan wrote:

Haha, I appreciate your deep level of concern about possibly pushing me away with your interest. To be frank, I can't see how you could possibly do that. I similarly am as attracted to you as I ever was, I noticed that right away when I sat down that the only difference was you had more hair. As far as jumping my bones, what am I going to say, no or how dare you? My bones are all in favor of being jumped XD How that will affect the friendship, I couldn't really say because I've never had this kind of experience before. But I would theorize that, knowing myself, it really shouldn't change anything at all. I know intellectually speaking that it would be wrong to change my stance on what I require from you after that happens, as I said last night, my biggest fear in a relationship is being trapped by this person in such a way that I can't grow anymore. So to try and do that with someone else would be highly hypocritical. As far as conversation about any of this nature or just anything in general goes, you should know that I am basically Captain Honesty. I have no problem talking about any of these things in a straightforward manner, and I really appreciate it when other people do the same. So no worries, your babel (I find it funny that you say Babel instead of babble) is perfect perfect perfect. I don't find what you are saying to be pressuring or rushing in the least, my mind in the past few hours has been in the exact same place as yours, ("So I guess this is happening, wow!") Communication is without a doubt the most important thing, so I really appreciate that you are sharing all your thoughts and importantly, your fears here. And you have nothing to fear in this case. I will also be honest and say after last night's experience, that there is a very large part of me that thinks interacting with you like this really is the best thing for me. I legitimately respect you and am attracted to you, and I know that the feeling is mutual. That's more important to me than anything else in this field of my life right now. So fear not!



On Sat, 11/14/09, Luz wrote:
Subject: Re: My Saturday morning babel or what I'm really thinking
Date: Saturday, November 14, 2009, 2:36 PM

(Big grin) You rock! So when do you want to hang out again? I'm going to my grandfather's birthday party soon. I should be home around 9pm. We could hang out then. I do have to get up early tomorrow, though. I volunteer at a church daycare and tomorrow is my day. I'll be there from 10-12. Then I'm babysitting my friends kid from 5-11pm. So tomorrow is kind of full. If we can't hang out this weekend then let's try to find some time this week. Tue, Thur, or Fri evenings are best for me. Let me know what works for you.

Hugs, Luz

PS: I just finished reading Snow Crash for the third time. If you've read this you will understand the "Babel" reference. If you haven't you should. I think it's pretty great!



Sat, Nov 14, 2009 at 2:38 PM, Bryan wrote:

Oh I totally got the Babel thing, I just wasn't sure if you were doing it intentionally. I loved Snow Crash. Yeah, gimme a call after your party, I don't think I have any kind of plans today now that I think about it. :)



I received these emails two years ago. At the time, I thought that it was simply a case of God throwing me a bone for once. I read them now and I realize that I was at a crossroads in my life. There's very few times were such a thing as a "crossroads in your life" legitimately happens, and as in this case, at the time, you may not even recognize it. I had been hurt in just about every relationship I'd ever been in. Hurt by others, hurt by myself. By inexperience. By being a bad match. I was ready to give up. I was considering moving to San Francisco, quitting my job and drinking myself to death. I'd get a job as a bartender and just fuck girls. I was considering my buddy Rick's advice and just selling everything and moving to another state. I wanted desperately not to be myself anymore. I'd just be someone else, someone impenetrable, someone who'd drink and fuck with impunity. A dead end motherfucker. I had a choice: grow up, or grow worse. And through the unlikeliest of sources, I turned my back on the low road.

I look back on my breakup with Stephanie with a different view now. She was a young girl, all of 19. She wasn't trying to cut my heart out. Just trying to find her own way to comfort. Everyone fucks up, often when trying to do the right thing. It's important to remember that. Legitimate hatred is a rare thing. Today, she's probably just about my age when I started dating her. She's got a long way to go, as I did. As I do.



I'll always be grateful to Luz. She's the kind of friend you only get one of, if you're lucky. The kind that utterly defies explanation, and deviates from social norms with love. It's easy to say we'll be friends forever but there's no telling how the future will go. Maybe I'll die in a car accident tomorrow. Maybe Luz will move to Romania and change her name to Svetlana. Nothing changes the fact that she kicked me in the right direction when I most sorely needed it.

I'm with a girl now that I love to death, in a relationship that has been 10,000 more rewarding than any of the previous ones. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm with someone I'm meant to be with. I have never been happier in my entire life, and for not anywhere near as long. I've always felt like I was on the outside of something, that I wasn't where I needed to be emotionally. Finally, I don't feel that way anymore. For the first time in my adult life, I legitimately love someone I never would have met drinking whiskey in fucking Texas. Luz may not have introduced me to her, but I met her all the same due to the choices I made and the experiences I lived. There's no way to place a value on that. No adequate way to express the value of it. 'Thanks' is volumes away from enough. But I'll say it anyway. And include a picture of my sexy face: