My Own Biggest Fan

I woke up today not thinking about the little drama I have made for myself. I got up and got myself a coffee. I had no agenda, no meeting times and no reason to stress. At the coffee shop I listened to friends that were going to China to adopt a baby, and another confided in me problems with her relationship that were complicating other areas of her life. I went to the magazine shop and looked at some that should have made me think of the woman that I have built my drama around, but for some reason didn’t. Or maybe they did, but at least they didn’t make me sad. I bought a magazine, written in Portuguese, but with translations in English beside, and many beautiful pictures. I bought it because it’s been a long time since I developed my ability to think abstractly and I think this magazine is full of people that think abstractly. I went to the bike shop; it’s called The Bike Shop. Maybe they named it that so when you say, “I’m going to the bike shop” with no capital letters, there will be the assumption that you meant that one. I bought valve adapters and a pump. Then I walked up to 17th and I saw her.

She was maybe ten feet away. It was alarming how quickly my body reacted. She had her back to me and her face was obstructed by a mobile phone pressed up against her face. Her image must be imprinted on my medulla oblongata because my heart raced and I felt the nervous twitch before my eyes even focused or my frontal lobe could react. Fight or flight? No question about it, I am a coward. I didn’t take my eyes off of her as I passed. Deep down, I wanted her to finish her call and accidentally look my way. I wanted her to hear the squeak of my comically noisy shoes and turn around. I wanted her to acknowledge my presence at that very moment. As I walked past, I held my breath, emotions mixing and stirring in my guts like I ate something rotten.

I felt strange. I knew it could have easily been I that didn’t notice; that she could have rounded the corner behind me while I waited to cross. I know coincidences don’t mean anything, but it doesn’t stop me from investing them with meaning. I texted a friend, to get rid of some of the itch left by my close encounter. “I just passed within three feet of XXXX and avoided her. I feel weird” I stopped in to grab some things from the place I am staying this weekend. I change my status on Facebook to something suitably cryptic, and I leave. Thoughts about this and thoughts about that. No, I won’t lie, thoughts about her, and why she has such an effect. I walk down 4th. I look up. There she is again. Again I can’t look away. I want her to see me. I want validation. I want her to miss me so I can remain invisible. She doesn’t see me, or she pretends too not. Same result.

On the train home there are 15 year olds experimenting with public sexuality. They are the cast of “Kids”.

From the moment I saw her the first time, I have been writing this. I was writing it as I texted my “sponsor”. (She used the analogy of quiting smoking to describe what I have to do with XXXX.) I was writing it as two of the girls on the train felt each other’s breasts. I was writing it as I went home, put on the valves and pumped up the tires on my bike. It’s a wimpy but cool looking thing, sort of equivalent to a human powered Smart Car. I was writing this as I biked back to Mission, to look after a cat that either doesn’t remember me or hates me. Same result.

As I bike, I wonder why I am planning out this little anecdote. The only reason I can come up with is the fact that I want her attention. I can’t send this to her in an email though. I have promised myself I wouldn’t. I have already given her too many words. Most of them she never asked for, most of them, despite her attesting to the contrary, thrown down a well.

As I bike I think about how I am getting somewhere on my own power. I think about the fact that I made the bike roadworthy the same way. I think to myself that’s a tidy little metaphor and consider that as clichéd as it is; it probably has a place in whatever this is.

Up ahead, a man is unloading some things from his truck, to his driveway. His path crosses mine, and I can tell he will be turning around to get more, so I slow down. My breaks make a squeaking sound and he stops and looks up immediately.

“Thanks.” I say and pedal past him.

“You should have used the bell. I would have gotten out of your way.”

“I had lots of time to stop, no need to stress.”

Same result.

“Yeah, but you could hurt somebody.”

Yeah, he’s probably right.