Love is Like a Frozen Walk Through Vermont

My friend has ventured into a full-court romance press with another friend. They went out on a couple dates. Zero religious knowledge between them. They seem to be developing a sort of relation that has gone unappreciated by our culture defined by hook-ups and "talking." He plans on taking her out to dinner on Saturday and buying her a rose and a fancy pastry that they can share over candlelight. Love seems to be blooming.

I envy his course. It is virtuous and right, devoid of amoral lumps and swollen ego. I like how he hasn't pushed his place and has taken their dates with an air of importance. It won't be quick and there isn't time for a nervous drink. They don't seem worried about the possibility of failure and the pain that attaches itself to failed relationships. They have a freshness that reminds me of parents or Jimmy Buffet.

It makes me think of a very short story that a mentor told me once, despite the fact that they don't seem overtly related.

Twenty years ago, a teacher of mine hitchhiked from Dartmouth up to Middlebury, Vermont to profess his love to a girl and give her a six-pack of beer. The trip took four hours or so. He arrived, couldn’t find her and drank the beer. I wondered what he told her and if he slept with her that night, 20 years ago this weekend and why he went on Valentine’s Day. He did find her that snowy night, and they married a few years later and they are still in love.

I think that my teacher knew he was in love. I think that my friend may be in love.  

I might be in love now. The timing isn't right. She just got out of a relationship, and I destroyed the last one that I was in. It's fairly shitty, and I don't want to do that again. She wants to wait and preserve our friendship. I moved in too quickly and threw off that post-relationship sense of ease and security.

I didn't mean to hitchhike into this situation. I sort of understand that it wasn't called for or expected, and that she didn't break up with her boyfriend for me.

I took her out a couple times, and she knew. I had to tell her that I had “the feelings” for her. And if she is reading this, then she knows that I didn't have the courage to come out and say it to her, so bad for me. I actually don't know her very well, but sort of have a tendency to talk about how hard the emotions are for me.

There is never an easy way to say it. Not for my friend, nor for my mentor, nor for me. But I'll say it. I met someone.

It was an accident. It didn't time out. I wasn't looking for it or on the make. It was beyond my control, like making it up to Middlebury on a snowy Saturday in February. She told one story, and I told another. The next thing I knew, I wanted to keep this storytelling going. She had been everywhere and hadn't realized the things that she had seen.

That is what fascinated me the most.

She didn't know what she wanted even though she had the experiences. She wanted more.

And now there's this feeling in my gut. That I'd hitch a ride to nowhere or somewhere to find her. It’s completely nuts. In a neurotic way, that makes me smile. But as she said, the time isn't right, too much maintenance required.

I know this. I feel the urge to take this leap. That's the good news.

The bad is I don't know where to jump right now. I'm caught between respecting her wishes for isolation and that balls-out hitchhike that would only take me a couple blocks up the street. And that scares the shit out of me, because if I don't throw that thumb out now I don't know if it will get thrown at all.

And life moves forward, I have a feeling that we'll get lost out there. My friend made his dates, and my teacher took his trip. It's a confusing world out there full of twists and turns, and people have a way of moving on and getting lost. Blinking and missing the moment.

I don't know what will happen, and if experience tells me anything, she won't waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. But she speaks Spanish and snowboards formidably, so that must count for something. And damn, she can smile real good. So that must count for something too.