Just When Ya Start Feelin' All Bad For Yourself...
Good things can come from the oddest of circumstances – truly. Okay, so I’m dating this tall older guy. Not “my type.” But, no one really seems to be (excluding apparently Oliver Stone…but that’s entirely another tale). Back tothe tail, er, tale at hand...so,"Super-Plus Tampon Man" is what you’d call fun and adventurous, and had a smart brain - so one forgives the other stuff - for a while... The downsides were manageable (especially since it was a light-no-frills to-do 'tween us). He had a few, shall we say, idiosyncrasies – a weird twitch, apparently one dress shirt to his name and an obsession with motorcycles (<- but swell fancy fast machines; the sexy kind...the evil sexy kind).
You always gain something even from the most mundane experiences or bad dating soirees and faux pas. Here I gained the knowledge that I adore driving really fast in the wind (motorcycles are really a kind of convertible heroin), and I was willing to giggle at truly bad jokes, and partake in lame conversation centering on sprokets, knowing - always - this tedium would have an end result; which was a road trip at 100 MPH in the backwoods of America.
In point? I dug the motorcycles – as in stayed past the point of even really liking the guy, just to ride with him - well, have him chaffuer me around at high speeds. Shallow I know - but guys do it all the time no? Did I mention he looked swell in skin-tight leather to boot. Now, who's shallow there you!
The good news is after we had “an accident,” as he kind of liked to drink and drive too (told ya before – bad taste in men is a gypsy curse in my family – see rants at bluntreview.com for that whole sad-story. The lighter-side of near-death is my new found ability to dump him guilt free – and without any real “excuse” development! He hadn't really done much to "upset" me - he just kind of "was." Breath was starting to grate on my nerves...But I was out scott-free! Well, less the permenant damage and all. Hey, it’s pretty hard to be the heal dumper after the guy cripples ya right? I’d found my silver lining in traction – who woulda thunk it. What's he gonna say, 'Sure kid . I crippled ya. But, look on the bright side...I drink too much, have luggage Vuitton wouldn't label, and I'm mediocre in bed. How could you leave me? HOW?" Tah.
Then they did a brain MRI post accident “just in case” that weird new leg numbness and eye twitch was something blood-on-brainy. Guess what? They found MS. Yep. Multiple Sclerosis. I was still okay with their words – NOT happy, natch. But, I remembered thinking, "At least it’s not a brain tumor.” Though later I would learn a tumor may have been better; they cut it out, you have some rehab and viola your back on a horse. Or your not.
So, I adapt. No more kickboxing. Period. And my mountain bike has an inch of dust. I then lost my dog – I know kick ya when your down right? So, I slid into “cheesecake mode.” There’s very little a cherry cheesecake fed ex’d from New York can’t help heal. It helped but alas left me fluffy. Yep. Twenty pounds in two months. Yech. The Dino was blasting, Darin was wailing and Rosemary tried to audibly help - all to no avail. I jhad the slumps. Bad.
Just as I was starting to get all dramatic about the woes of my life – my nephew – the semi-secret agent – pulls one of his calls and says, he’s out of Korea and en route to Iraq – sniper division. I am in a n MS meeting when I get the call...his message says, "Oh, and the cell phone number wont work in two hours – so call soon or perhaps it'll be a year." I'd gotten this call a few times… What is this an episode of 24? Well, yeah kinda actually. I ring him during the relaxation segment break; It’s true – he is leaving on a mission in the 0500am to “take care of some things…” That’s double talk obviously. So, I said, ‘Just promise me you’ll stay safe.” He says in the worst Bogart I’ve ever heard, "Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine.” Dear god this little boy I love is now some manly-man off to fight in this ass war. But, he choose to do this – he found his calling – and he’s an uber Democratic patriot; so he must feel the work’s important enough to get involved. I spared him any of my thoughts and reiterated how much I missed him and he has to come back so we can chat about film. He is (ironically) always blown away that I meet celebs. Too cute really. My hero thinks I’m a hero. So, I tell him quickly (as he's checking his equipment) about the George Clooney interview. he knows my mom is a HUGE George fan - he asks if I got his aurograph. Silly goose - no. Clooney's quite cool I tell him - a regular Joe under he looks and charm. Pishaw he insists. He wants me to interview Jessica Alba; and yes he got the Frank Miller hamdcuffs I'd sent to some "location." He's still a boy.
I have o get off the line - I am just gonna wail; and there isn't enough Jazz in the house for this call. So, as shopping is a viable distraction (and safer then cheesecake and valium), I head out today spend my birthday gift certificates at Trader Joe’s. Then it hits me. I may limp, and get tired easy, but you know what? I aint gonna die of MS - it's a new chapter; hard but acceptable. I was able to break free of an increasingly annoying relationship, and most important - for one's perspective on the truly bad parts of life's swirls - I am not on my way to some country to kill or be killed. And, I am not his mom. Or frankly, I’d probably be fit to be tied long ago with his shenanigans. Oddly he’s the spitting image of Jim Carrey- so how exactly does he “slip in” places? That always piqued my interest – but, I’ve probably already said too much. (que Mission Impossible Theme....)
This Friday starts GEORGE CLOONEY WEEK at BluntReview.com: Interview, Film review (good night, and go0od luck) and a few retro-dvd Clooney reviews, and his dear Aunt's early works cd gets a nod. FRIDAY http://www.bluntreview.com
over and out of it