9/12/14
John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York (JFK)
Of all the social interactions known to man, it is quite possible that
none is more enjoyable than catching up with an old and dear friend. I have had the pleasure of experiencing that
twice in the past two months. In order
to properly set the scene, we must rewind to the summer of 2012. It was the end of a dark time for me. I had been coming out of a severe depression
that had lasted about 3 years. After a
year of doing pretty much nothing other than collecting celebrity autographs,
as a hobby, I had started to feel better about myself, to realize that I could
find happiness and joy out of life.
However, it was not a long term solution. There was no money in doing what I was doing
the way I was doing it, and the people who did it as a business were
miserable. The people who worked for the
dealers were even more miserable and wretched creatures. I was smarter than anyone of them, and I had
every opportunity available to me. What
was I doing? Was it my lot to squeak a
living among these people once I was forced to think about money? I decided to go back to school. I had dropped out of NYU after two years,
getting distracted by the social opportunities available to me, unable to focus
on my studies, unable to even attend class.
For 4 years, I eschewed the things that had so distracted me,
practically losing all interest in women, alcohol, and friends. The desire for friendship came back
first. As I started hanging out with the
other autographers, I developed bonds and friendships with them. Next came the alcohol. There were plenty of chances to drink, and
sitting around waiting for a celebrity become a lot more enjoyable with some
vodka and a cigar. But it was the last
aspect that I was afraid would never return.
I have wracked my brains, gone back through my timelines, rethought my
entire life during those four years. In
those four years, there were only two girls in whom I was even the slightest
bit interested. That’s the key word,
interested, not desired, not passionate about, just interested.
In the summer of 2012, that changed. As I was waiting for celebrities at the Tony’s,
there was a woman standing there. Correction, no, she was a girl, not yet 21 at
the time. I was almost 25. She lived in Florida. There was no future there, but she was tremendously alive.
There was a fire to her, and I instantly knew she had a personality of
the type I find most attractive. Within
an hour of having met her, I felt an emotion I had not felt in 4 years:
passion. I don’t think that I was ever
in love with her, but that moment, that spark that I felt reminded me that I
could fall in love again. It reminded me that one
day I would find someone who could evoke that same passion and who would be
right for me, with whom everything could work out. It reminded me that one day I would find
someone whom I would love in every sense in the word. It gave me hope. Isn’t it remarkable how one fleeting thought
can change your life? The feeling was
gone almost as soon as it began, and we saw each other a couple of times before
we parted ways.
We had not seen each
other in over 2 years, though we continued to interact electronically,
developing a bond over a shared sense of humor and mutual interests. The passion that had disappeared even before
I got on that plane to Nashville was slowly replaced by a genuine
fondness. In one of my previous entries
I wrote how there are only 20-30 people in the world about whom I truly care. A week ago I decided to enumerate
that list. Including myself, I came up
with 20 names, and I was shocked and surprised with whom made the list and did
not make it. I was not surprised when I put her name on the list. She is like a sister
to me, in some sort of way. I am happy when she
posts happy posts on Facebook, and I am upset when I see her sad. She has been in New York several times since
then, but I have always been out of town.
She was coming back this weekend, and there was a chance we’d be able to
meet for lunch. As my readers know,
whenever I embark on a trip, I always go to Hop Won for my last lunch. I was not about to go to Hop Won with her. She told me to choose some place
awesome. I already had: Pershing Square Café. It was convenient, and the food there is
excellent.
When I saw her walking towards me, it was as if I was seeing a little
sister return from college. The conversation was effortless, our shared humor and mutual interests
making it flow smoothly. She ragged on
her friends and told me about this guy friend that has a crush on her. She said that she was convinced that he was
in love with her. “Who isn’t?” I
asked. She got a kick out of that. As she kept talking about how much this guy
was obsessed with her, I said, “Such is the curse of being a beautiful woman.” She laughed and twirled her hair, saying, “I
know.” The hour was over as soon as it
began, just as was that hour I spent with her at the Tony’s. We got cupcakes from Baked by Melissa, and I got
frosting all over my fingers, but we didn’t have any napkins. I didn’t feel self-conscious about licking my
fingers clean in front of her. When we
got to my building, I hugged her again and kissed her goodbye on
the top of her head, the same as I would if I had a little sister about to go
off to college. I am not in love with her, but I certainly love her very much.
I finished some stuff up at
work, headed to the cigar store for the event, worked myself a good deal on
bonuses with the box of cigars, headed up to Columbus Circle to get my
International Driver’s Permit, headed to the airport, managed to get some Chinese
from Panda Express as my pre-departure meal, sat down at the gate, and
proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.
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