Hula-Hooping

It was an evening in April last year and I was sitting around eating burgers and drinking beer with some girlfriends at The Edgewater. We were talking about boys and what we liked and what we wanted and I mentioned again my soft spot for geeky sort of guys with big noses who wear glasses and have a good sense of humor and maybe a creative bent.

"I'm telling you you have to meet my friend," Meg said.
This wasn't the first time she'd mentioned this friend and how well she thought I'd like him.
"Why do you think I'll like him so much? Does he have a big nose?"
"Yeah! And he's really funny and nice and he's creative too--he writes, and he had a comic strip for awhile, and he makes baby clothes!"
"Baby clothes? Is he gay?" I asked.
"No! I'm telling you: he's straight and he's perfect for you."
"But he lives in New York!" I sighed exasperated.
"So what? Aren't you going there in a few weeks?"
"Yeah."
"So just meet him while you're there--see if you hit it off."
"But I live here!" I replied.
"I'm gonna call him up," Meg said, pulling out her cell phone.
"No, don't call him up." I said, trying to gab the phone from her.
"Hi, it's Meg," she said into the phone, "Listen, I have this friend I think you really should meet. She's going to be visiting New York in a couple of weeks and you need to take her out. Do you want to talk to her?"
Meg handed me the phone.

"Um, hi," I said.
"Hello," he answered.
"How are you?"
"I'm good. How are you?"
"Fine, thanks. Do you like sushi?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Then do you want to take me out for some?"
"Yes," he replied.
"When I come visit in a couple of weeks."
"Ok."
"Meg says we'd like each other. But I live in Chicago and you live in New York, so."
"I can commute," he said.

That night I received an email from him and for the next two weeks we emailed back and forth nearly every day. Meg was right--he was funny and quirky. And even from just his writing, I could tell I liked him. He seemed familiar to me and even before our first blind date, I felt like I was just meeting an old friend I hadn't seen in awhile.

I saw him for the first time as I emerged from the subway in Soho and he was standing across the street waiting for me. He wasn't how how I'd pictured him at all--he didn't even wear glasses..or have a particularly large nose--and our first hour together was fairly awkward at best--not the easy, immediate connection I'd imagined beforehand. But somewhere around the second glass of wine and third sushi roll, something shifted. I softened. His nervousness became more endearing than irritating and I couldn't deny that he was at the very least interesting and funny, two really important traits in my book. Plus, I kind of liked the way he studied me with a sort of bemused look every time I applied my eye drops.

"Is everything ok?" he asked after the fifth application.
"I just have dry eyes." I said.
And then he smiled and kind of furrowed his brows a little and cocked his head a bit to the side and I smiled back and shrugged my shoulders and had a sip of wine, and this was just how it was between us that first night.
The next day I didn't see him at all, but when he texted me that evening, I felt a little jolt. He said he had a great time with me and hoped I was having a nice Saturday with my friends. I texted back and we made plans to hang out the next afternoon. By the end of the night, we'd moved our Sunday lunch to Sunday brunch and by Sunday evening, we'd spent the entire day together, strolling through all my favorite neighborhoods in Manhattan and sitting for a couple of hours in Washington Square park. It was my second time to the park. The first time was with an old boyfriend whom I was visiting for a long weekend while he was in a middle of a month-long rotation at NYU for medical school. I remember that first time wondering if I could fit in in NY, but of course, everyone fits in in NY and what I was really wondering was if I could fit in with that boyfriend in NY.

On the second visit, I wasn't really wondering anything, really. I was relishing. Relishing the beautiful day, the people-watching, the company.

One of the friends I was staying with that weekend had a performance at a club right across the street from NYMan's apartment. So that evening, I stayed at his place until the last minute I could leave and still make it to her show on time. We sat in his livingroom listening to Billie Holiday and not saying much. Over Thai food a couple hours earlier, I'd decided I wouldn't see him again. It's crazy to try to date someone who loves 1500 miles away. How so you even do that? I wondered.

When it was time to go, I made some comment about missing Grey's Anatomy. This was when Grey's still showed on Sunday nights. I didn't mention missing him. It was easier to talk about tv shows.

Across the street at my friend's show, I got a text from him. He said he missed me already. After the show, I got another text from him. He said he taped Grey's in case I wanted to watch it. I told my friends I'd be back to their place later that night and I went and watched Grey's Anatomy and tried to think of something to say.

"I can only stay to watch the show and then I have to go."

"Okay," he said, "I'm just glad you're back for now."

I'd already decided I wouldn't see him again and so when I left I told him we should just look at this as a fun weekend and nothing more.

"I mean, we can keep in touch or whatever. Email, phone calls," I said, "But we shouldn't fool ourselves into thinking this is more than it is."

The next day, my flight didn't leave until late afternoon, so I walked from my friends' place in Astoria to a big park up the street and I looked across the river to Manhattan and I cried. It seemed overwhelming and insurmountable--the distance, the logistics, the various paths my life could take. I was just a couple months from finishing my masters program and I didn't have much clue what would come next. I could do anything, really. I wasn't tied down to anyone or any job or anything. I could pick up and move if I wanted. But in that moment I just wanted to be back at his place listening to Billie Holiday and not thinking so much about the future.

That was a year ago this coming weekend.

NYMan flew out to see me in Chicago five times last summer and since then we've visited each other over a dozen times--sometimes for a weekend, sometimes 3 days or 5 days, sometimes for a whole week. I see him more than I see some friends who live in the same city. We've made it work. For a whole year we've made this long-distance thing work.

And now the future doesn't seem as riddled with insurmountable hurdles. I'm not as overwhelmed by my different options. I have a general plan and I've set the wheels in motion and I feel pretty confident things are going to work out well. It may be next month, or sometime this summer, or maybe early fall, but things are about to change in a big way and for the first time in a really, really long time I'm more excited than I am scared.

Maybe that's what taking some risks does: it shows you that sometimes the way to happiness is through a couple of hoops.

Who knows--maybe that's the only way.