We showered in separate bathrooms in the loft, I found this odd and cute at the same time, maintaining a little mystery. You smelled amazing, I saw you in your red underwear, I know you have concerns about your body, you should know I like you just as you are. You wore a deep blue henley with a puffer vest and broken-in jeans, You took the dog for a walk while I finished getting ready, I could see you on your way back, no doubt checking sports scores, it made my pulse jump.  You took me to a little dive restaurant with the best eggs benedict, we played with the trivial pursuit cards while we waited. You commented on how you weren’t sure I would like the place, what with it being a little on the dive side, I thought it was charming that you would think I was so high brow when in truth I have always felt more comfortable in the exact place we were.

We kicked feet, we held hands, we walked in the rain back to the car and we sat there, I will never forget you smiling at me that day, it made me feel alive and nervous all at once. For the first time in a long time I was trying to be no one other than myself. It is a particular brand of fear I feel when I am that open, a fear of being vulnerable, of not being seen for who I am, of not being enough. We were joking and in the back of my head I knew I had to say these words out loud, back at the loft as I zipped my suitcase my mind was whirling. I knew what I was about to do was the last thing I actually wanted. I knew that I wanted to say the complete opposite.

You hugging me, kissing me, holding me, you wanting to walk me all the way down me insisting that you don’t, you joking that it’s because I was going to cry , me saying I don’t cry, you calling me out on the fact that I couldn’t even look you in the eye. Me looking you in the eye and repeating the same words and in my mind thinking don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry. Just make it to the elevator.

I said we should stop

I don’t want to stop

I said this couldn’t end well someone will get hurt

I’m so afraid to get hurt or to hurt you

I said I liked you more than I should

I hope I’m not alone in this like over here

I said this would be the last time you saw me

Please don’t let this be the last time I see you

I should have said what I was really feeling, I shouldn’t have had a knee jerk reaction.

I left after that and cried all the way down in the elevator. I kept telling myself that things with you shouldn’t feel so easy, that eventually you would find someone who could be there, meet your needs all the time and that conversation would be way worse than the one we just had, that I was doing what was right for everyone involved. Maybe there is some validity to those thoughts but mostly it was just me wanting to run from feeling vulnerable.

I drove to my mother’s house to say goodbye and then a funny thing happened, I found myself driving north on the interstate instead of south. Right.back.to.you.

But it was too late your feelings had already turned like sour milk.

“Is this a set up?”

“No… what do you mean?”

“You’re acting funny. Did you guys plan something?”

“No…well, not really”

“You’re setting me up with their son, aren’t you?”

“well yes, but it’s not a date!”

(explosions begin..)

“Can I not go?”

“No.”

“You’re making me go?”

“Yes.”

“There’s no way out of this?”

“No.”

And that, ladies and gentleman, is a microcosm of a great majority of the parent-child conversations in our household.

An hour later my sister is at a table, next to her blind date, who was a very nicely chosen boy–clean, good job, seemed nice. And on either side of them, our parents and his parents pretending to have their own conversations while obviously listening in.

“How long were you on the East Coast?”

“About 5 years”

“Were you dating anyone then?”

“umm…no”

“Why not?”

“umm…I don’t know?”

She was trying to signal to him to end this line of questioning in front of their parents but he kept on going, pleasant and cordial as ever.

At this point in her story, I’ve learned a few things. Not only are my parents awful liars and couldn’t set up Legos without exposing their design plans first but the boys parents must be terrible at lying too. Apparently it was clear to my sister that she was the only one at brunch who didn’t have advance notice of the situation; everyone else had their “we’re so comfortable here” faces on, which only makes people look like they’re hiding something important or smelly. She was trying to hide her horror (come to think of it, this might be the same facial expression… my sympathy for the others at the table grows). Clearly this was not going to work out.

Ok, so we can all agree that what happened was unconscionable, horrible, and worth the rant, right? But the proverbial “they” say that whatever angers us about others is because we somehow share the same weaknesses about which we complain. Now, I don’t own dogs (love them, but don’t have time to care for them properly), so I’m not a leash-law-breaker. But I do own cats, and I’ll admit that I could do a much better job of keeping their litter boxes pristine. I’m also in the business of raising children, and I do let them run off-lead on a regular basis. They have even bitten other children a time or two, but that was pre-teething, and I’m sure no skin was broken. Animal Control refused to come out (I convinced them that no, I do not bite my children), and no friends were lost in the aftermath (their kids were biters too).

And as a welcome side-bit: the guy who allowed his Dobie to walk freely turned out to be an upstanding guy who brought a body guard with him when he apologized, paid the vet bill, and offered to clean up my friend’s dog’s doo-doo for the next five years (I jest). Apparently he is an animal lover who houses multiple dogs, fish, cats and the like. Seems he just can’t say “No” when someone decides they can no longer care for their own pets. Sans-leash? Still scratching my head about that one. But at least he’s not a jerk who thrills at the sight of his dog tearing into an unsuspecting canine out for a simple piddle.

I’m mulling this word, “attack” because of what happened, but also because the next day I would be reminded that my friends and family have been viciously attacked by cancer. I’m even more incensed about this because there is no way to mitigate the reality with humor–no way to find perfect words to comfort a friend besieged by a brain tumor–no way to comfort my remaining sister over the loss of her twin–no way to comprehend the insane losses of children to strange and aggressive cancers–no way, whatsoever, to embrace the fear my friend feels every time he goes for a CAT scan to confirm that the beast has been beaten.

My friend’s dog, said the vet, was saved by her collar. Early-detection saves some with cancer. Miracles rescue others. Too many lose their battles. Our only hope is that this “Race for a Cure” starts being more about cancer and less about “riders” of profit for big companies who want to look benevolent, or potential political platforms from which moralistic mandates are levied or launched under the guise of fiscal responsibility. Like the guy who takes in strays but doesn’t leash them, isn’t it time for a bit less feigned ignorance or trumped up morality? How about a healthy dose of simply doing what is right?