I Spy With My Little Eye

A while ago I entered a short story contest held by the metropolitan transit authority of bcn. I became a finalist. In order to win the contest you had to attend the award ceremony. I was going to, I RSVP'd as asked, and then... I had the wrong date. The wrong date late. And 'thus I missed my chance.

The story was written in Catalan and Spanish and the post below is my attempt to its English translation. Much like bilingual actors who cannot dub themselves, I feel I don't do my stories justice when I try to translate them into a different language. Here it is anyway.

As time went by and fights piled up, the subway became their way of making up. The first one to pick up the phone would suggest a stop. If it was her, he could guess her mood by the subway line she chose. L3, green, optimistic. L5, blue, no doubt she was sad. He chose by geographical proximity. Always the practical one.

On their first date, they were supposed to meet at a restaurant but bumped into each other on the subway. His stop, Sagrera, hers, Glòries. L1. Same train car. Kismet.

On their way home, she got the I spy ball rolling. "I spy with my little eye someone… I like to imagine what other people’s lives are like,” she said. He followed suit. He wanted her to like him.

I spy with my little eye… – she started again. A girl whose just been broken up with –and motioned with her head to the 20-something year old woman crying quietly a few seats across from them. Short skirt, fishnets, stilettos. Her tears were punctuated by her struggling to avoid a mascara disaster with a flimsy tissue. "He’s told her, I love you, but I am not in love with you,” and she stared at him. The challenge was on.

I spy with my little eye... –he said. A girl with bad allergies. It’s spring, there's pollen, pollution... Too long wearing her contacts, nothing new.

She looked at him intensely. Gave him a severe gaze. Suddenly, a smile and a kiss. Their first..

Allergies. No doubt –she agreed and squeezed his hand.

Fast forward four years.

I spy with my little eye… A man on his way to a date. Anniversary celebration –she offered.

She was referring to a middle age man. Sharply dressed. Carrying a big bouquet. Roses and peonies ...?

I spy with my little eye… A man on his way to the hospital. He’s going to visit his mother. Hip replacement surgery.

"Next stop: Hospital Clínic," announced the subway voice. The man stepped off.

She stared at him. He shrugged his shoulders. Later that night, he bought her a rose from a street vendor on their way to the restaurant.

Over 2 years living together, the last one a rollercoaster. She wanted to marry, he didn’t want to fix what was not broken. She wanted children, "I’m getting older." "Now it’s not the right time," his catchphrase. "Do you know when it’s not the right time? -she replied each time- When you want to but can’t."

Their last argument had been a few months ago and she no longer looked at him with nagging eyes after crossing paths with babies on strollers or youtube links with yet another baby being cute. Yes, sometimes she seemed distant but it wasn’t because of him. "It's work. It keeps piling up."

When he landed back in Barcelona after five days in Paris for business, he picked her up at her office. Had missed her much. The day he had dinner with Pierre’s family, he had imagined himself the father of that 10-month old girl who laughed hysterically when thrown in the air just to be caught a few seconds later. "I think it’s time," and that realization excited him. Now that he knew, he could not wait to share it with her.

He would take her to their favourite restaurant. They would jump on the 4 train, yellow line. “It makes me long for summer... This train rides all the way down to the beach," she had told him once with a wink and a smirk on her face.

He kissed her when he saw her. Kissed her again on the platform. On the train. Long, hard. His kisses tasted like beginnings. Hers were as hungry.

I spy with my little eye… -he said. A couple in love. Tonight he is going to ask her to marry him. She’ll say yes. They’ll promise each other undying love and will start an urban tribe.

Another wet kiss.

I spy with my little eye… -she whispered back. A couple in love. Tonight she will break up with him. She’s run out of dream waiting for him to find the right time.

"Next Stop: Jaume I"

And we both felt the salty heat of a tear.

When Flying is an Option

I'm looking at the airline website so attentively the characters on the page are starting to get blurry.

On the screen I can see a roundtrip to Brussels leaving next Friday and coming back on Monday morning. Affordable. To go or not to go. The Guy had to alter his plans last weekend and winded up in Spain (briefly) instead of Belgium. That means he's going to be at the epicenter of the EU this upcoming weekend. He's asked me to join him there.

We managed to see each other for a couple of hours last Sunday. Since the airport is on the way to my place, I also gave him a ride. Much conversation was had about trips we should take together, and there was even a request for a picture of the two of us so he could show it to his friends.

When he said to meet him in Brussels, I told him I'd look for air tickets and let him know. 'Because... you could not really come with me tonight, right? I'll give you my credit card, you could buy some clothes, spend the whole week with me in The Netherlands and then...' He wasn't serious but... he somewhat was.

So I am looking at the Purchase button. To click or not to click. I am going to have my period next weekend. If I don't go, I won't see him again until the first weekend of March. Yet I should not be spending money frivolously no matter the amount. But don't have to worry about lodging. Regardless, two days have gone by and I have not heard from him.

The last time we 'spoke' was an unenthusiastic text he sent thanking me for a card. I replied with an inner joke that was left unanswered. That was on Sunday night.

There's still something that tells me he's not that into me.

I am not going.

Things I Lost in the War

Sunday night. Unpacking from an overnight stay in a Bcn hotel. I notice there's something missing. Great.

Find hotel key, get online, find their website. It's a small chain and they have several design hotels around several of-course-cool European cities. A few of them in Bcn. I think I recognize the name he'd mentioned. I give them a call.

Font Desk (FD): Good morning

It's 11 PM. His greeting throws me off.

Self (S): Good morn...night. Good night. I am calling because I believe I left two pairs of socks in the hotel room when I checked out this morning.

At least that is what I am saying in my head. What spouts out of my mouth is some unintelligible mumbo jumbo that I think sounds close to 'last night there I'm missing some socks we bedroom left this morning two pairs'.

FD: Were they your lucky socks? Ha ha.

Ha ha. Idiot. I got the funny guy. Lucky me.

S: Yeah, fun-ny... No. They go all the way up my thigh and I reeeally like them. I'd like to get them back.

There. Although I think he's gay.

FD: What was the room number?

Sometime in November, a friend of mine asked me if I would mind if she brought a date along to an exhibit she and I had planned to see. She didn't want the date to have too much of the 'This is a Date' feel and thought sharing the art exhibit would be perfect. I didn’t mind so her date came along bringing two other guys. One I'd already met and someone else I thought looked a bit standoffish (SG). I didn't talk too much to SG while we walked around looking at the art, but when we had seen over half the exhibit and I was admiring one of the paintings, SG stopped next to me and we got to talking. Art talk lead to his living in many countries talk and him being back in Spain conversation. I asked him how he felt about returning to the motherland .I found out he had moved back to the country with his girlfriend, now ex, a few months back and that Bcn had been the demise of their 10-year relationship. He didn't elaborate too much and I didn't want to pry. We kept walking and separated.

After leaving the museum, the five of us went to a bar and the conversation flew. We were sitting on low, cushy sofas all set around a table, and I was between SG and my friend's date. I thought SG was an interesting guy. A science man who spoke five languages fluently and had been all over the world. Not for a second did any sort of romantic or lascivious thought crossed my mind. I felt bad for him. Breaking up a 10-year relationship... that's got to be really rough - I thought. I hope that's not me, ever - I wished. I know it doesn't seem like it but that's empathy for you. He still seemed sad about the break-up even though he was the one who ended the relationship. I don't think I learned that last detail, then, though. He had only been single for about five or six months at the time.

That same night, I was having dinner with someone I had been seeing for about a month, so I left after one drink. As I was putting my coat on, my friend's date asked me for my number. In front of everybody. I didn't give it much thought then because: a) it was in front of everyone my friend included, b) it never crossed my mind he was trying to pick me up. I thought he may be asking on behalf of his friend just in case he wanted to get in touch with me at some point. I did give it to him which naturally made my friend upset, but again, I was positive he was not going to ask me out and even if he had, I would have said no. He never asked me out. Or called. He got my full name, though.

A couple of weeks later I got a Facebook message from someone I could not recognize. I asked him for details and it turned out he was SG. We exchanged a few messages over the course of a couple of weeks. He revealed himself as quite a funny guy. One who travels a lot for business and was out of the country at the time.

S: It was room 211

FD: Hmmm...Our 200s go from 201 to 208, and from 215 to 222. There's no room 211.

I may not know the name of the hotel, but I am positive about the room number.

S: You don't?! Perhaps I'm calling to the wrong hotel...? You're not the one on Nice Street?

I start looking for the address on their website

SG sends me a message announcing he's going to be in town over the weekend. He wants to know whether I'd care to have a drink with him or to join him and some friends for dinner. I tentatively agree but in the end we're just able to meet for coffee. I enjoy it. He's truly interesting. I think he likes me. He's also about to leave on a five-week vacation as soon as 2011 stars and by now it's already the end of December. He says he'd like to take me out for dinner before he leaves and we make a date. The night before my birthday we have dinner at an Indian restaurant we both find out we love. I'm starting to like him. I haven't really liked anyone since The Crush, over a year ago. It’s a welcomed feeling. As we were waiting for dessert, he says he must congratulate me on my birthday so we both stand up for the mandatory, and customary, Spanish kisses on the cheek. The first one is on the right cheek, the second one lands midway to the left side. For those of you bad at anatomy, that'd be my mouth. Suddenly we are French kissing. Welcome chemistry.

We leave the restaurant and take a cab to my car. I drop him off somewhere so he can take a cab back to his hotel. It turns out he came to town just we could have dinner. It’s a three hour train rain on the high speed train. He's going to be out of the city for business for a few days, but we make a date for December 30th. He's flying down to the South Pole on January 1st.

December 30th, 2010 is a Thursday. I've taken the day off from work. We have a fantastic time even though we just walk and have dinner. I start worrying about this turning into something and that something being a (very) bad idea, especially when it comes to me. Minefield potential. Recent breakup from long, and intense relationship, very accomplished (and apparently beautiful) ex, travels most of the time, his headquarters are in another city even though has plans to relocate to Bcn,... I don't like the sound of either. Later that night we are looking for a bar, but it’s raining, we’ve got no umbrellas, and somehow we end up in his hotel. I think he's joking when after 10 minutes of fruitless search under the rain he announces 'I think we should go to my hotel'. Ten seconds later he's flagged a cab and we're driving there. I am in disbelief. I know I'm going to be leaving shortly thereafter. And I do leave. Only, it’s the next morning. First time ever. Talk about knowing thyself.

He has to catch an early train, finish the preparations for his trip a day later, meet friends for a New Year's Eve celebration. Neither of us makes any promises. We'll see what happens once he's back.

FD: No, we're on Another Nice Street. The one on Nice Street is called Nice Hotel.

S: Isn't that clever... Yes, it does make sense. I will call there, then.

I hang up fully aware I'm going to be the anecdote of the night. I'll probably be played by a cocaine-lover escort who entertains businessmen all over town and does not know whether she's coming or going. The role of a lifetime.

Five weeks go by and I get a phone call. 'I'm in Madrid, will be in Bcn tomorrow, fancy a date?'. Yes, I fancy.

He meets me at a coffeeshop sporting a beard, his usual self-assurance intact. We kiss for a very long time. He's a fantastic kisser. Danger! messages flash in my mind in brightly colored neon lights. We walk for a while, I'm taking us somewhere. He tells me a bit about the trip (some of it, at least). The strike and picketers in Chile, the very literate yet snobbish Buenos Aires crowd at a party, barely comments on Brazil... And we kiss. We end up buying a bottle of Malibú and some chips and head to the apartment of one of his friends where there's a small gathering of somewhat inebriated people. And we kiss. Around midnight we all leave to have dinner. And we kiss. And then to some bar. And we kiss. And then... I end up in his hotel again. Thank goodness I have lunch plans the following day. He makes it hard for me to leave, but I do. I haven’t slept all night. He’s staying in bed.

He's leaving for Italy that night and is coming back the following weekend. We agree to meet again then.

I lose my voice for about a week. He calls me once, takes too long to answer the texts or emails I send him, and my uneasiness about the affair is building a not-so-cozy nest in me. Now I know I am really in trouble. Now I know I really do like him even though I had been aware of what a bad idea that was (see some paragraphs above). He calls me on Thursday, we make plans for Saturday. I hesitate on whether to meet him at his hotel and whether to stay overnight. The circumstances conspire for me to meet him just as he's getting off his ride from the airport. It's a perfect spring Saturday in the middle of February. Sunny, balmy. I love the way he hugs me hello. His greetings are always spectacular. We walk to the hotel. Time flies. We are supposed to meet some of his friends after dinner. We don't. I stay over, leaving seems a laughable idea. We have breakfast together, lunch together. Anyone who sees us is probably disgusted by how much in love we look like we are. Yet. I still feel uneasy. After lunch, we walk around the old city and I ask him if he sees himself moving back to his birth town for good. He says 'Perhaps; if I stop traveling so much, and I meet someone and we settle down and have kids... perhaps I will.' He is not implying I can be that someone. Furthermore, he knows I don't want to have any children. It had come up in one of our early conversations. Then he said he did not care much one way or another. His ex couldn't, so he had made up his mind he probably wouldn't. Now he wants kids. ‘So you want to have kids...’ - I ask. ‘Hmmm... yes, I think I do, you never know, but I think I do. You don't you, do you?’. I feel as if someone has just slapped me. Hard. I also feel my eyes getting moist. I fight the impulse and win. Now I know why I felt uneasy. Trouble? you say. F*ck, I think. I hate being right. We keep chit chatting, end up in the private patio of some hotel, have a coffee, and I prompt us to leave. ‘I'm in no rush’ - he says. ‘But you have a train to catch, don't you? And we still have to pick up our bags from the hotel’. He kisses me and we stand up.

I try to keep it light on our walk there. While we talk about silly movies and stupid stuff he did as a teen, I try to gather my thoughts, place my words in the right order so I can say what I want to say before we say goodbye. When we had first sat down at that patio, he’d asked 'Are you okay?'. I hesitated for a moment before saying 'Yes, I am' and smiled as much as I could. If he could have read my mind, he would have heard 'I am a bit sad because I have to do something I don't want to do'. Yes, cool, I’m cool. *Grin*

We get to the hotel. We both go to use the bathroom. It’s in a lone corridor downstairs. No one is around. When I get out, he corners me against the wall and we start making out. He says, 'Should I get us a room for another night even if we just stay for a couple hours?'. I say no. Tell him how I am not sure we’re in the same place in life, and how his breakup is too recent, and how any idiot can tell he needs to be single, to reacquaint with himself as a single entity. The last thing he needs is to commit to anyone. I tell him I’ve already fought that war and now I’m ready to fall in love again. I announce he's still in mid fight.

I can tell he’s not keen on this assessment. Says he cannot make any promises except to be honest with me, to let me know if he meets someone else. ‘Let's take it one day at the time and see what happens’ - he declares. Only the person who has nothing on the line can afford that approach, I think to myself. I have all my laundry hanging on the line. 'Look, I've had a great time with you, both indoors and outdoors' - he continues. Yes, but for you there's the possibility of meeting someone else, echo my thoughts. It's not that I'm not looking, it's that I am not even seeing, I want to reply. He senses my hesitation and pushes harder so I don’t slip away right there.

We both head towards the same subway station even though we're going in opposite directions (metaphor?). We say goodbye next to his entrance. He’s going back to his apartment and flying to The Netherlands for work on Tuesday. He had already announced he'd be in Belgium the next weekend. He used to live there and still co-owns an apartment in Brussels. Has to catch up with friends, take care of some paperwork. Then it's back to The Netherlands the following week. He's supposed to be back in town by the end of February, although we don’t make any final plans other than he'll call from The Netherlands. 'I think I'll miss you. I think I’m going to miss you quite a bit, actually' - he says. If you were really going to miss me, you'd be in touch way more than you are, I whisper to myself. He sends me an email that night. Some links he had promised. 'I've had suuuuuch a great time this weekend. Lustful kisses.' I take a deep breath. Sometimes you have to lose the battle in order to win the war. But other times you must lose the battle because you've already lost the war.

I call Nice Hotel. This time I make much more sense and they don't throw me off by answering 'Good morning'.

They don't joke about my missing socks being a lucky charm. Thank you, I feel like saying.

FD: Our facilities manager will be here tomorrow after 10 AM, you should call back then, ma'm.

At least they have a room 211. That's promising.

S: Thanks. I will call back tomorrow. Have a good night.

Toads & Creeps Update

As I was talking to Bridgett yesterday, the story about Jordi came up and I found out...

...

... I found out he texted her over New Year's Eve. 'Hope ur doing well. all the best 4 the New Year!'

They had not been in touch since those infamous September days in which he had regaled her with his sex exploits and had followed up with a couple of power points displaying pictures of lovely landscapes, puppies, couples, and quotes on how 'There's a lead for every pot' and 'When it rains look for the rainbow' or 'Life and love are like hide and seek, people spend their whole lives looking for love, but when they finally forget to look for it, they find it' and a few other such classics that make our girls' hearts flutter and skip a beat. Just right before we run to the closest bathroom and throw up.

Her answer was also a classic. Silence.

Toads Croak, Creeps Creep

I have a single friend and by 'a single friend' I don't mean I have only one friend (they're actually three), but that I have a friend who's single. My friend, whom I'll call Bridgett just because she's British, met a guy online and they set up a date. She wasn't too excited about him, but he was interesting enough as to show some promise. Their drinks date turned into dinner at his suggesting and over a three course meal, he kept telling Bridgett how fantastic he thought she was, how they should get together again soon, and how lovely a weekend spot he knows is *wink wink*. On and on he went, hand holding over the table included. Bridgett, being the worldly woman she is, not to mention the reservations about him she still had, smiled, hand held back, and told him a weekend would be lovely, but she'd rather get to know each other a bit better before that.

They said goodbye a few hours later with the promise of another date over the weekend. Jordi, the guy, called the next day saying how much he was looking forward their next date and the two of them chatted for a while. He promised to call in a couple of days to make definitive plans. Then... silence. The day before the set date arrived and Bridgett texted Jordi: 'Hi, just wondering whether we're still getting together tomorrow. Pls let me know. Thx'. A few hours later, he sent a mysterious message: 'Sorry, things have gotten complicated. Long story. I'll tell u all about it later'. Bridget thought perhaps something had happened with his kids (divorced dad of three) so she sent 'OK. Hope you're alright'.

And then, it was the following day and Bridgett woke up to... (NOTE: I am posting the English translation of his e-mail, but you can check out the original Spanish by... I don´t really know; I've tried several things unsuccessfully so when I figure out how to make it pop out, I will post it. Nothing has been edited and names have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved. Yes, I am nice.)

"Hi Bridget,

let me tell you something. for quite a while i've had some sexual fantasies that i never dreamt would become true. i was not obsessed with them, either, but i must admit that given my situation as a separated man, the present was the time to try to make them happen. well... funny how destiny works, when you can least imagine it, your wishes become true!

Last saturday, Toni (a friend of his) had been invited by a female friend whom I had met when I last visited with my kids, to go for a hike somewhere between Palamós and Calella de Palafrugell. This one friend, Elizabeth, didn't tell him that this was a nudist group just for singles, we found out once we were there. Neither did I know that we would be riding on our car with two girls (45 and 47 respectively) whom we were to meet at the train station inCardedeu. They were going to leave their car there and ride with us.

Well, by 9 AM we were already at the beach, beautiful day, lovely sea, almost no one else there yet... and we had the first naked swim of the day. By ten, almost everyone in the group was already there (about 25 ppl) and we started our hike. fantastic views, cliffs, small pine trees woods,... we finally got to estreta cove, not accessible by car, nudist, where our group was basically by ourselves. during the walk i did hear some comments about how we would rub sunscreen on each other and... true to word, for the first time i had the chance to feel 4 female hands on my back, my legs, etc. and, at the same time, i started to ask to be the masseuse to the two girls (they're 45 and 47, mind you) that rode with us in Toni's car. He wanted to catch a Barça soccer game with his son, so we bid our farewells a bit earlier and we started descending back through a shortcut, with barely no one in sight and by 5 PM we were already in Cardedeu.

Toni left in a hurry so he could get to Bcn on time for the game (Barça lost, btw!) and the two of them took me home. I thought the only polite thing to do was to ask them up for a drink. She came up, got comfortable and... well, the conversation veered towards our mutual separations (oddly enough, all of them had happened on the same year and only a month a apart!), and all the experimenting since. They told me they both were swingers and had partake on the lifestyle in bcn clubs as well as in private parties (my sexual fantasy number 1!) and they took their sweet time detailing all their recent experiences. As you can imagine, I was quite excited and kept asking for details. It turns out, they took a liking to me (well, they liked me, actually!) and they told me that they may invite me to one of their parties but... they had to test me out beforehand.

Well, Bridget, I almost fell off the couch. I couldn't believe what I was hearing; I was about to make my one other sexual fantasy come true (a threesome, sexual fantasy #2). They both started talking about me, in front of me, as if I wasn't there even though they were looking at me with intent while they chatted, you know, the same way two guys would do it if they were talking a bout a woman. they had seen me at the nudist cove (and I had seen them too, of course) and they were 'appraising' me... That was too much for me. i don't think that any sane, heterosexual, confident man could have resisted...

They took a shower, I took a shower, we laid in bed, we got massages started once again, this time using body lotion... you can imagine how the whole thing ended. One had to leave earlier, the other one stayed 'til 2 in the morning and told me that her friend will be over the following day to complete my 'casting'. And that was that. On Sunday night, the lady who had to leave earlier on the previous day, came back to 'finish me up'. It turns out both I get a passing grade (with high marks) by both of them, and they've accept to include me in future 'private swinger parties'.

I've told it to you just as it happened, without trying to minimize or exaggerate what happened. It would not make any sense, bridget. I'm telling you because it makes me feel better (no kidding). I don't feel tied to anything or anyone, but I think it's best if you know about it...

I'm going to bed, bridget. I'll read your answer, if there is one, tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. I like you a lot, bridget, but I know myself and I know I am not prepared for a serious, committed relationship and perhaps I have to let off steam first, allow my fantasies to come out and melt before I start something that has to be rather serious in my eyes...

Good night and thanks for listening, my pretty british girl..."

And you thought men were not honest. Ha. I'm very glad B dodged this honest to god bullet, though. Guys, for g's sake, if you're faced with a similar situation, please use the following as a template. You're welcome.

Dear Jane,

Something happened over the weekend that made me realize I am not ready to be in a committed relationship yet. Yes, I am 47 y.o., but when is old too old to stick to just one partner? (Okay, you can skip this last sentence).

I am sorry if I've misled you in any way, but I don't think I can be monogamous at this point.

Best,

John

fml

...because music emulates life...

'Jackie Jackie (Spend the Winter with Me)' by Sally Shapiro

(incidentally I had a writing professor named Shapiro back in NYC...)

I thought so much about you that day
It was a perfect day
But I couldn't enjoy it without you
I wish it didn't mean so much
When I grabbed you by the hand
Sometimes I think too much about things
I think I give you too much time
But it feels like
I want to give to something back
For everything you mean to me
I want to give to something back
For everything you mean to me

Chorus:
Jackie Jackie
Spend this winter with me
Oh, Jackie Jackie
I just can't make up your mind
Tonight, tonight we fly
Oh, Jackie Jackie
I still wait by the phone
Oh, Jackie Jackie
I don't wanna be alone
So come along with me tonight

Why do I always end up

In situations that are bad for me?
How come I don't fall in love
With normal people?
And why don't normal people
Fall in love with me?
I don't think I'm that strange
Do you think I'm strange?
I don't intend to
It's just that things very easily
Get complicated around me
It's just that things very easily
Get complicated around me

(Chorus)

Hey Jackie, please
Come with me
And you'll see
That my love
Will take you high above, baby

(Chorus)