31 October 2007

Call off the search party!

The Infamous CoatCheck Girl is alive and...a little sickly, but overall, well. After emails from friends and readers wondering how and where I am, and "whatever happened to...", I thought I'd better post an update.
October has been a busy month for me professionally. That's one of the reasons I haven't written much. I've had very little time and, frankly, hours and hours of photo editing aren't very exciting or misadventure-y.
I even missed the just-for-fun show I was most anticipating this month---The Erotic Ball. Last year, I swore to myself I would make it to this year's. I owed it to myself. Last October I skipped it to go to do what my Freckled Friend wanted to do. I ended up sitting at some lame house party, listening to one of his friends playing "The Final Countdown" on the accordion. Like I said, I felt I owed it to myself to rectify that this year. But, alas, I was working.
It's not such a loss, however. I've taken on some promising new projects which I'll be writing about over the next few days, including a couple of movies gigs, promo shots for Silverhawk, shots for a Vagabond Opera live album, and Jeremy Wilson's (Dharma Bums, Pilot) podcast The MastanMusic Hour.

And the Lonestar Pony some of you asked? Well, let's just say the human capacity for denial never ceases to amaze me. I admit, I got caught up in the idea of it too, the fantasy of it--- enough to pass up some opportunities closer to home in order to give him a chance. I'm usually a have-my-cake-and-eat-it-too kind of girl, but I held out. I waited for him to arrive to see if there was really something there.
There wasn't, and I went right back to my life as usual.
I tried to be as straightforward about that as I had been all along. Unfortunately, I encountered the same problem that had been there all along: a complete inability or unwillingness to hear anything that didn't fit into the fantasy.
In ending things, I try to be thorough and direct, even if it's not often the most tactful. I believe in ripping off the band-aid quickly. Sure it stings more in the moment, but it seems less hurtful in the long run. That is, unless the other person never even hears it.
I thought I had made myself perfectly clear, leaving no room for interpretation.

"I'm not interested in being romantically involved with you."

Ouch, I know, but direct...right?

A week or so later I got an invitation to dinner, to which I agreed, as long as it wasn't a "date".
"I'm not labeling it. We don't do well with labels," he replied.
We don't do well with listening either, apparently.
"I mean as long as it's understood that we're just friends and nothing more," I clarified.

I did not expect the barrage that followed.

"I thought if I gave you some space...I thought if I gave you time...I thought if I showed you that I'm not insecure, that I have faith in us...you can date other people...I just want to go see a movie with you, hold your hand and see where it goes...but we had something great on the phone..."

I was embarrassed for him and frustrated with my own predicament. I would interject my previous statement until it became a mantra.
"I'm not interested in being romantically involved with you."
This was punctuated by "This is not a negotiation...this is not a debate...let go of the fantasy...let go of those expectations...it's in the past..."

Did I get through? Who knows. The thing is, part of me can sympathize. I can understand putting one's hopes into something and being disappointed when it doesn't work out as desired. What I don't understand is clinging to those hopes so stubbornly that one becomes deaf and blind to the reality of a situation.

On that cheery note...

The best way to keep track of me and my doings (albeit, not the naughty ones), is to check my flickr site often. It gets updated more regularly than my blog these days.
Many thanks to those of you who have written asking about how I'm doing. I'm touched.



All Content Copyright 2007, Juliana Tobón. All Rights Reserved

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