Love Labor's Lost

volumes of mis-adventures

Cutting Your Losses

What happens, when you so desperately want something to work out, that you start overlooking absurdities that no other normal human-being would put up with? Short of outwardly calling me stupid, and questioning ever ounce of my aptitude, Doogie had me strapped into a roller coaster blindfolded. Imagine having no clue what someone was thinking or feeling, and then constantly doubting yourself. No one should make you feel this way, and as Eleanor Roosevelt said, “no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

Doogie and I met on the set of a music video. Romantic in so many ways, the pages out of a script in others, highlighted with juvenile and unbearable scenarios that even the most creative of people could not have fathomed.  We were shooting a music video on a cold weekend at the beginning of November. The leaves were already bright orange, red, and yellow. Some of them had sprinkled to the ground coloring my immediate world. Shuffling around, the enthusiastic melody of crunching leaves beneath my feet would roar like a symphony bringing a smile to anyone’s face, especially mine. Autumn is my favorite time of year. My very talented friend, let’s call him Yento, my modern day matchmaker, invited me on set as a still photographer, a passion of mine that continues to thrive. Excited to try out some new features on my Nikon, I promised I would be on set as often as I could given my work schedule. That first day I arrived right around noon, in time to solve the crisis of the century: Where could we all possibly eat lunch?! Offering up my house, I instantly made friends. (Note to all: just host a party and everyone will be your friend.) Yento officially introduced me to Doogie at lunch. Initially, I rattled something off about hearing about Yento and Doogie’s lunches and their collaborations in the past. In good fashion, I rambled, babbled, and stumbled over my words, because yes, I found Doogie cute.

He had a boyish charm amidst his chocolate brown eyes, and his dorky smile, and quirky humor took me off guard. Nothing had happened, nothing sparked, just a quick chat here and there in between bites of food and sips of canned soda. We spent our first moments, afterward, huddled together atop of a double decker bus. Wrapping me in his coat and awkwardly patting me on the back as if to sooth a crying baby, or if you will, a baby waiting to be burped? We continued to cuddle surviving the bitter cold of that not so sunny day in November. Both of us acknowledged this weird situation, Doogie saying, “ I have no idea why I’m still patting you on the back.” I looked up at him, smiling, as I would many more times, and said, “yea, it’s a little strange.” And so began the adventure with Doogie.

While Doogie was technically my longest dating endeavor, he will also be taking home a shiny golden trophy of an aspirin bottle, for biggest headache of my life. I’ve never thought of myself as a sensitive individual, but this guy has single handedly, on multiple occasions, made me succumb to watery eyes on the verge of tears, made my heart sink into my stomach, made me question my character simply by saying: “I’m unsure about you,” made me feel like a horrible individual, and made me feel as though my intelligence is, to say the least, subpar with great lines like: “geez, read a history book!” Doogie, while doleful, innocent, and quirky on the outside, must hold insecurities beyond my comprehension to make someone else feel as horrible as he has made me feel. So, today I say, enough is enough. We are throwing him away, but before I do, I want to share one ridiculous happening that will forever paint Doogie’s portrait in my mind.

After a ridiculous misunderstanding, Doogie invited me to accompany him to Wisconsin to celebrate the incoming 2011 New Year. As someone who has spent every new years with her family, ever since I can remember, I was ecstatic to be spending it with a group of peers and even more so, A BOY! Yes, yes, I’m slowly graduating junior high in my rankings of experience, entering the scary world of adolescent high school. That is what one might have thought, but nay, spending a weekend with a boy, up in Wisconsin, in a cabin, without parental supervision does not necessarily imply any of the risqué expectation one might, even with a teenage imagination, concoct. While the weekend held many fun highlights and awkward moments, including standing in the middle of a dance floor at midnight, with an overwhelming demographic of senior citizens making-out with their loved ones, adorning more sparkles than the disco ball in Saturday Night Fever, while I stood with one of those silly ‘woot’ blowers, and a plastic glass of champagne in hand, chugging to my hearts content hoping that the spectators on the sidelines of the dance floor were not staring at me thinking, “poor girl, did she really come here alone?” “No, dang nab it! I’m with the band!”   While I was seemingly and merely a groupie throughout the evening, I  did in fact enjoy a festive night of music, dancing, and drinking with the senior citizens of Racine, however, little did I know, my evening was just at its inauguration as we were transported from Yacht Club to cabin. 

As we walked back to the cabin, Doogie and I exchanged sweet little nothings, amidst the hazy winter evening, as the temperature dropped from a record high for this time of year. Doogie and I entered the cabin and shuffled to our room to change out of our formal wear. Not exactly scripted, but easily out of a romantic scene for the innocent, we exchanged three delicate kisses to bring in the new year, as sweet as a kindergarteners first kiss, special, yet somewhat bewildered and distant. Considering we had now been dating for 2 months, to me this relationship, or lack there of, could not be moving any slower, but alas alack, I thought minimally of it, as I always have. We both changed and went to join the others. We proceeded to bring in every subsequent new year in the rest of the world, California, Hawaii, and another one for good measure at 4 a.m., when most scurried off to bed, at which point I awoke from my little nap on the couch.

I looked over at Doogie who could not have had a more enlivened face. As I scanned the room, his bandmates had bid us adieu; the room left in shambles: empty beer bottles, confetti, food and empty bowls at every crevice. As my sight turned to Doogie again, he had an extra energy I just couldn’t understand in my hazed consciousness, and veering to the coffee table I saw an empty plate with chocolate crumbs and a fork, and 5 empty cream soda cans. While I didn’t think much of the empty plate, I might have assumed that there was cake that I missed while asleep. I looked at Doogie and said, “Did you really drink all that cream soda?” He turned to me slyly, giggled like a little school girl and shrugged his shoulders in complete concession. With my eyes half open I asked what time it was, to which Doogie started sprinting through his sentences as if it were a race to see how quickly he could spew out whole ideas in under 60 seconds. With little clarity all I grasped was that I should go to sleep and he was going to stay up the rest of the night. I solemnly closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep as the hyper 23 year old ran around the kitchen eating whole blocks of cheese and crackers, while watching whatever was on T.V. at the moment.

2 hours later:

The world seemed to be shaking as Doogie viciously nudged my right arm, as if my sole existence depended on my consciousness at that moment. “Let’s go to bed, ok?” he said in a delicate whisper, like an angel from heaven. Little did I know that 6a.m. was only the beginning of a freakishly long series of events, which in retrospect may have been cause for admittance to the nearest insane asylum. Doogie led me to our room, I went to brush my teeth and changed into my PJs. When I came out of the bathroom, Doogie was jumping on the bed like a little 5 year old kid who had just heard the “Monkeys Jumping on the Bed” song, wanting to demonstrate said jumping. With my eyes still half open, and desperately pleading with me to get some rest, I looked up at the acrobat, “Doogie, what is wrong with you? Aren’t you tired?” “No!” he responded. “I’ll be right back!” As he left the room, I crawled into bed, paying his disappearance with gratitude for a moment of silence. Not a minute sooner than I had felt myself losing consciousness, Doogie ran in and jumped into bed, he began rambling off a story about Paul McCartney, as he is his favorite Beatle. Then as if suddenly developing turrets he got stuck on Ringo. Repeating his name over and over again, in his version of the Beatle’s British accent, ‘Ringe, Ringe, Ringe…” I turned to Doogie, pressed my hand to his mouth and said, “Stop Talking. Go to Sleep.” I had summoned the mother within, but that did very little. Doogie continue to ramble on, mentioning only things that carried little to no importance. I turned to him and yelled in the loudest whisper I could muster, “Shut Up.” Then I turned to him and brilliantly decided to kiss him, it works in the movies I thought. Kissing equals shutting babbling baboons up, right?!. Wrong! Clearly, I am not dating a normal baboon, “You think that will shut me up, but it won’t,” he said without missing a single beat. Now, beginning to actually become frustrated and annoyed, I looked into those eyes that had just completely rejected me and said, “did you have one of those brownies?” With a girlish squeal, he riveted himself into his pillow. Now, I sat up. “You had a brownie! So, you’re totally high right now? Doogie, geez, you are never gonna go to sleep are you?” In that moment he hopped out of bed and said, “I’ll be right back.” I smiled turned over and gave into Mr. Sandman, just as Doogie ran back into the room, jumped up on the bed and mounted me, sniffing me like a dog. Imagine: Any dog owner’s home you’ve ever entered. Pick one. Any one. You walk through the front door, and the Dog runs up, jumps on you and begins to sniff you, but wait, it’s not really a dog, it’s the guy you are dating! “Doogie what are you doing?” *sniff* *sniff* *sniff* “Doogie, stop.” *sniff* *sniff* *sniff* “Doogie, What the hell?” Just then, he jumps up, off the bed, and runs out of the room.

This in and out routine continued for the next hour and a half. With moments where he tried to serenade me, but it was akin to a 45 year old drunk man in a karaoke bar, croaking about his problems through song. Another moment he returned panicked asking if I were alive, because he thought that he might have stabbed me with a kitchen knife. Then, again, he entered the room wreaking of popcorn, having finished the entire bowl left on the kitchen table. Finally around 8 a.m. Doogie calmed down enough to lay his head on his pillow. We snuggled up together with my head on his chest just above his heart.  With his arm around my shoulder, and the soft beat of his heart, I drifted off into the unconscious just as he said, “Thanks, I feel safe now.”

This never ending, and everlasting evening taught me a number of things about Doogie, but above everything, I think sometimes no matter how entertaining and fun an individual, a romantic interest, or even a friend may be, they may not be what you need. While this may be a stretch, the sleep deprivation of that evening is representative of the one sided relationship that Doogie and I have. He seems to put me down, keep me from things I want to do, he has basically told me to stop talking on multiple occasions. He takes away my dignity, my pride, and single handedly lowers my self esteem. The few moments that we have had that were fun, exciting, cute, romantic, and memorable just can’t make up for the other parts of this non-relationship. Sometimes, you just need to cut your losses and realize you are better off alone. You are better off finding joy in your true friends, in your current endeavors, and in the moments that you have on your own, smiling and enthusiastic, being who you are, regardless of others.

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