The date was fine, wonderful, actually something delightful with a sandy quality: I'm afraid to palm it to much for fear that it will slowly crumble away. I much prefer to keep it in its nascent state. Maybe Hillary will tell the story because god knows it was as hilarious as all of our other encounters. The similarities between dates and salads are striking. While I (again) didn't consume a salad with our gentlemen callers the date itself feels like one - a salad that is: there's the smooth cheesy but comforting happy spots, the occasional bitter lettuce or cucumber, an acidic bite that is sometimes pleasant and sometimes off-putting. So, you know, it was a normal date.
But what was significantly more striking were two things - one a general trend in the men we've met, the other a very rare pearl these men possessed.
The general trend: Men who agree to go out with us are awesome. Awesome is a shitty word sometimes, but I think it perfectly shores up these guys. They don't know much about us - if anything physically. They trust their friends or friends of friends. They are open to new experiences and are they can embrace the spontaneous surprise. They are always gentlemen (RR excepted). They go out of their way to make the effort to show us a good time and engage total strangers in honest conversation.
This is precious.
This is sexy.
This is not something de rigueur in my life.
More than feeling passionate or dispassionate or connected or invested in these men I feel grateful.
So... thanks guys. It's easy for me to take people for granted (just ask my mother - oy the hell I've put her through!) so this cosmic lesson in stranger-love is valuable for me.
The most hardened and troubled hearts on this trip have been very concerned with our end-game: what is the purpose of this? what happens if you meet someone you like? blah blah blah 'i'm closed off to the possibilities of life' etc. We've explained the purpose of our trip over and over (we have our own couple dynamic when telling it - it's tasty) and we explain how we're thirty, how we had relationships that we cherished with our whole hearts that exploded and demolished us, we explain how we want to expand our horizons and renew our hope/faith and get our grooves back.
But really I think the rationale for this trip came down to a pervasive feeling of spiritual hollowness. We've meditated. We've exercised. We've cried. We've let our friends help us with various forms of healing and destruction. But at the end of the day, we are great thirty year old people seeking life partners and getting a little weary of striking out. So, before going up to bat again in my home field I needed a little recuperation. And the generosity of the men we've met around the nation (and outside of it!) has been like a mobile soviet sanatorium (as in 'house of rest' - see here or here - not as in the American version loosely translated as, 'crazy house').
And while all of the men we've met have been contributing teachers in that lesson our Montreal dates held a distinct great pleasure (although not of the kind we are greatly in need of #celibacy).
The Montreal men: Phil, Michael, and Johnny (yes - they surprised us with a third dude! I know, I know, the stuff of bucket-list fantasies right?)
They all were real on-going, committed, life-partner friends. They knew each others families, they didn't put down each other ever, they clearly made space for each others' idiosyncrasies. In general, few people have such friendships. I consider myself to be a lucky-as-fuck woman because I have two such groups of friends - to say nothing of the insanely funny loving individuals I count myself connected to. But to have such deep friendships where you can call each other out on your behavior in 9th grade physics class, drive your friend home even though they live in the ridiculously wrong direction, and treat money as communal property is a never-in-a-lifetime experience for most people - and especially for men. I've never seen such man friends. They said that when they're out on weekends people sometimes think they're gay. I love this heirloom varietal friendship. Hell yes.
As I sat there watching a totally unremarkable conversation between the three of them I was totally tickled because they were such... homies. I think I've had their exact conversation sitting in the heart and dagger patio with my girls. You could see the love. They could see the love. And the love was good.
Thanks Montreal Men!
p.s. you're all hot and we like you...
an inspiring read :)
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