Well that was interesting.
Like last time, it was not a fun trip, but held a mirror to emotions which are always there but which I ignore. Deep sadness, and intense childlike fear and loneliness came up, and I couldn't meditate them away. I had to feel them. I acknowledged it all and wept like a baby.
I tell myself I love solitude, and I do, but even I have my limits. I needed to talk to someone who understands me. I messaged the fuckboy from years ago "hola" and he called immediately. We talked for hours. He's remained sober. I told him about R. He said it's not my fault, that it was his choice to continue drinking. He said he's alone all the time and his life is probably boring but he enjoys seeing the sunrise now that he's not a night owl. I concurred. He has been working on renovating a truck all year. He said, "chula, you'd love it." He remembered when we met and the red dress I was wearing and how we danced. He said he hasn't gone to any shows all pandemic because I said no every time he asked. He said he's been calling me for three years and asked why I never answer. He said he can pick me up, drive me to my hometown, or the beach, or hiking, or he can cook me dinner, salmon, tacos, nopales, salsa... "Anything you want." He said he wants to do all the things he never did for me before, to show me the parts of himself he never showed me. I said we'll have to reintroduce ourselves because I'm different now too. We talked about eighties movies and music and about our pajamas. There was an intimate honesty that wasn't there before. Both of us had shitty days but both felt calmer talking to each other, hearing each other's voices, talking, and intermittently singing. He sounded very stable and grounded, and his kind voice was everything I needed, like a comforting soothing lullaby.
He told me to keep smiling and asked me not to forget him. "You can call me any time," he said. "If you feel bad and want to talk, I'm here for you, always." No this is definitely not the fuckboy I remember.
I am glad he called. I even think it might be good for me to go out with him sometime soon and re-learn how to have fun. I refused to commit to a specific day but promised I'd text or call again to meet up sometime between this weekend and the arrival of spring. I warned him if he takes me to my hometown that I might be emotional. He seemed totally ok with this. He listened with interest to all my ridiculous banter. I asked him why. He said I'm special, unique, that there's something about me he loves, the way I use my words in a way no one else does, the way I am, that I'm unforgettable. Flattery blah blah blah. But it felt genuine.
He said he has lots of gray hairs now. I said I have a few little ones, not many. I liked the realism about age.
I laughed when he described in detail how he'd make tacos and salsa. "Yes, talk dirty to me," I said while he described each step in his recipe. "And then I boil the nopales." "And then?" I said, between each step, like we were having phone sex about food. It was funny and wholesome.
Today I feel notably less angry about life. I'm tired, but I am hopeful about new experiences to come.
I had also impulsively texted M during the scary part of the shrooms to ask if he was alive. He responded hours later after I'd already forgotten:
"The first thing I want to let you know, I don't have money, no house, no people to help me around. I have nothing. If you want some help from me go away, I'm not a guy for help or to give the life you deserve. Sorry, sorry for all this. I have a lot of big problems. Now I'm getting kicked out from my place. Now sorry for not responding. Sorry."
Four hours later, I replied. (For reference, he is native Mayan.)
Z: In Lak'ech.
M: ?
Z: It's Maya. It means "You are the other me." Your ancestors want you to be healthy. Everything will be ok.
M: What you doing?
Z: nothing. i'm here if you want to talk.
A little while later he called. I answered. He sounded stressed. We didn't talk about "us" and I didn't want to anyway. I noticed how argumentative he was about benign things. And fragile. So we talked about mythology. I avoided asking how he lost his job or why he was getting kicked out of his apartment. I only asked him to take care of his health. The thing I wished I'd told R. I can't have regrets like that again. Everyone needs to know that someone cares. I read his chinese horoscope for 2023. We chatted about nothing till midnight, like friends. He said he hadn't been sleeping. I think he felt calmer after talking.
It's strange how we connect to the people we do in life, and how things shift over time, and how we are all on our own unique paths, meeting occasionally at intersections. It was probably the mushrooms, but I felt at peace about all of it. As a boyfriend, I need to let M go and move on. But I was relieved to hear that he is alive.
- 2023-02-02