Yesterday was hard. In only a few days I had gone from 100 to zero. Feeling defeated by ‘Atlas’ – A metaphorical ‘Olympic Gold Winner’ in the Hot and Cold Games, in a moment of weakness and sadist stupidity I called Cristian my former holy-grail. My excuse was 3 photos he was tagged on in FB, attending some sort of all-female festive gathering. He looked miserable in every one. My first thought was “Whoa… wtf is up with him and that face? Why is he so miserable? Is his wife in these pictures? She doesn’t have an FB account. I don’t even know what she looks like.”
Really, I just felt like hearing his voice and maybe getting a little sympathy, although I knew it was probably futile. He is a vault, and I can barely figure what the hell he is on about half the time speaking so quickly in his Abruzzese accent in Italian. He asked me how things were and I responded: “You know, always the same, men problems, so many lies.” During our ambiguous conversation, he said he was with friends, and there was someone there with him that I knew. So he passed over the phone. Who would I possibly know from his zone?
“Ciao, It’s Franco, who’s this?”
“It’s Cakes. Franco?!”
(No it couldn’t be THAT Franco.)
“Franco? Like Franco C ?”
“Yes. So how have you been? Where are you?”
“Oh my god…”
I was in shock. Franco was the Adonis/holy grail of my best girlfriend Arianna, all those years ago when she brought me to Italy when I was 15 and she 17. I was in a time warp. I could still picture him, he was one of the most perfect physical examples of the male species I had ever seen. My friend was head-over-heels in love with him, and thought of him for years thereafter (just as I did with Cristian). He was lovely on the phone, he asked me if I was married, and where I was, and seemed surprised to learn I was living in Italy and have been here for 8 years. I had no idea they were even still friends or even met up at all after my friend and I left all those years ago. I found it strange Cristian never mentioned me living in Italy. Then again he keeps all personal information under lock and key. Funny, they would likely have never met in the first place, if it hadn’t been for my friend and I introducing them to each other.
“Cakes, why don’t you come here for a visit and we can all get together.”
(I’m sure that comment had Cristian crawling in his skin.)
“Yeah sure, that would be great. I’ll try and get there one day, and we can organize something.”
He was lovely, authentic, his voice sounded exactly as I remembered it. All of us were so happy back then. However delighted I was to speak to him again, I became melancholy after he handed the phone back to Cristian. What happened to us? (Cristian and me. I suppose I know the answer – We made bad decisions, procrastinated, lost so much time, and here we are.) Cristian then asked me if I had decided if I was going back to Canada, I told him I didn’t know yet. He said to let him know if I decide to leave. Like it would make one bit of difference, as he has had 8 years to see me and never made an effort. (Will he throw me a party if I go? make an effort to see me to say goodbye, when he never said hello?) A few minutes later I sent him a text with a recent FB photo, and asked him to take one of Franco and send it to me. I doubt if he will, and he probably never showed Franco mine. Men hate the thought of sharing you in any way, even if they have no intention of ever stepping up to the plate.
Ah yes the photos, taken earlier that day in fact …
Putting on the happy mask for the camera.
As I sat on my bed staring at the pics on my FB page, eyes swelling up, quasi-crushed to a pulp, and wondering who the fuck I even was, I got an IM from ‘The Administrator’ (we originally met on a web-dating site last winter) who worked in Milan as a Public Information Officer for the Italian military (who is now stationed in Uganda for 6 months). An attractive man, well-spoken with a great smile, refined manners, and technically a man I really SHOULD HAVE met, and snagged while he was still around.
“How are you my beautiful friend?” he asked.
Nice compliment. I was already neck-deep in self pity so why forge an effort to fake otherwise?
As I explained that I had a falling out with “a friend, not a boyfriend” The Administrator played devil’s advocate, interpreted both sides and suggested I take it easy and sleep on it, before I completely obliterated said friend from my life. All the while during our exchange I regretted not meeting him while he was still in the country. As we were concluding our conversation he made mention…
“It would be nice be able to get to know each other in person sooner or later.”
“I agree. Thanks for everything, and listening. You are always so very nice.”
“You inspire the best of me…” If it’s ok with you, I’d like to send you a card from here. I just need your mailing address”
What a lovely, sweet gesture.
(He is maintaining position on the roster, and has just moved up in seniority.)
This morning I opened my FB to see that Atlas had ‘liked’ one of my links and had sent me a one word email regarding the photo on the above left:
To which I replied: “Yes she is.”
Meaning – the dog, because if I was so f’cking amazing – why have I barely heard from you and why aren’t you rushing to clear up any possible misunderstanding over the fact you f’cking hung up on me?!
(Whereas ‘Green’ My former ‘friend with benefits’ back in Toronto was able to figure it out with ease and put it simply yet to the point: “You look awesome McCain.” Cheers!)
Later I this afternoon I was able to call my girl Arianna in Canada and dialogue on my bizarre timing, conversation with Franco and our former holy grails. After analyzing everything to a pulp we discovered essential what we already knew – Cristian is rather bizarre… and by process of elimination who SHE was.
(clue: behind every man…)
I felt myself falling off the wagon yet AGAIN…
and a hankering to send a text message coming on.
To be continued…