That Couple Is Cheating On Me

I was part of a great foursome. And by that, I don’t mean some dirty foursome, as in swing-this-way-foursome. My ex and I had a couple that we got along with perfectly. There was no - ‘oh, the women are friends, so the husbands have to hang out’ or ‘he’s nice but man, she’s a nightmare.’ We all genuinely liked each other. Even our dogs got along. We’d go out to dinner, have game nights, movie nights, simple hang out nights and sometimes, we’d separate and do just the girls while the guys hung out.

Now our foursome is a threesome...again, not the dirty kind. The couple is like family to me and I still love hanging out with both of them and try to do it as often as possible. And while I think I’m pretty fun to hang out with, I can’t morph myself into two people (and I certainly can’t morph myself into being a dude). Naturally, my friends found another go-to couple for their game nights and such. Naturally. Yet, I find myself... jealous. Is that weird? My girlfriend and I have spoken about the breakup of my marriage often, but recently the discussion was less about my feelings regarding said breakup, or the transition to singlehood and more about what a bummer the breakup of the foursome has been. It’s really a big ol’ bummer. She concurred.

When I go on dates now, I find myself not only looking for someone that could possibly be a good fit for me, but I try to suss out whether they’d be a good fit for my friend’s husband. I want to ask... “so, um... Do you like strategy games? Are you up on technology? Could you say, have a well thought out conversation about a good graphic novel you’ve read recently? Do you even read graphic novels? And if no, would you be willing to have a go at reading one soon?”

And do I add these questions before or after the question about whether he’s okay with my dog sleeping in the bed (see previous entry if confused)?

Oy. I should just create a questionnaire. Or better yet, maybe I’ll just bring my friend’s husband and my dog on the date with me. Just get it all figured out right then and there.

Thoughts?

Best Laid Plans (Part 6)

Ode to the elusive Press Pass!

Why do you elude me?  You say that you are on your way and yet... why have you not arrived yet?  I promise to be good to you when you arrive... I will do a jig even, and, had I the skills to, I would happily perform a double-triple-loop-backflip.  Yet, here I am, with an empty hand, sitting by my mailbox, longing for it to be filled with some sort of official-looking paperwork.

While our visas arrived very quickly, it seemed that our application for the press pass was misplaced.  The people processing the information could not have been nicer or more helpful and have said that the information has been found now and is currently being processed.  However, the neurotic New Yorker in me will remain concerned until the actual document is in my shakey, nervous hands.  Joe, of course, is not concerned.  He merely shrugged, ordered another round of pancakes and sucked back his third can of root beer.  Joe has, it should be noted, informed me that we are in a marriage of convenience.  The convenience being that he figures, I worry so much, that he need not worry at all.  Convenient for him, stroke-inducing for me.  The truth is, I'm sure it will all work out.  The people I have spoken with have been great and want to help out, but I can also honestly say that I long for the day that I can talk about my want of the press pass in the past tense.  

If you're out there press pass, come home.  We promise to treat you well!!

Best Laid Plans (Part 5)

Embassies?  Consulates? Press Pass? Whaaa??

I am a narrative girl.  I make up stories.  I say... lets pretend that so-and-so meets so-and-so in a coffee shop and then...  Or, let's make believe that some girl meets some guy in the park and then...

I can for sure say that I've never uttered the words, "Can I document my travels as I traipse around Accra to sightsee, and then make my way to Ho to interview people and volunteer?" Nor have I ever asked my doctor if she wouldn't mind if I film myself getting a shot (and oh please god, let them not put me in the paper apron that opens in the front, while they administer my yellow fever vaccination and capture it for eternity on tape).  That is all very real.  Sure, I was never the type of writer that told far fetched stories.  You'd never catch me spinning a tale about a girl meeting a guy in the park, falling in love, and then combining forces to combat rockets shooting out some secret government bacteria.  My story would most likely entail my girl and my guy falling in love and then dealing with, oh, I don't know, relationship issues.  So, unless those rockets came with a surprise pregnancy, or a cheating boyfriend/girlfriend, it's not really a story I'm likely to tell.

I should say however, that just because my scripts are usually grounded in reality it does not mean that they are real, so now, my days of documenting the actual is throwing me off a bit.  My days consist of Joe's voice humming in the background saying things like: 'Julie's freaking out about plane tickets - let's get this on film!' Or 'Julie's freaking out about getting the press pass - let's get this on film!' 'Julie's freaking out - who cares about what! For godsakes get the freaking camera!'

It's all becoming real in a way that I never considered before: the budget, the plane tickets, the program, the interviews, the shots... yellow fever, hepatitis, malaria pills, tetanus, cipro for extreme diarrhea, an epi pen for my shellfish allergy... oh my... and while I've had many of these shots from previous trips or from swimming in the Hudson River (don't ask), hearing the list once again is, well, not a small thing.

Recently, I told my mother that I've been having anxiety dreams about forgetting to take care of something before Joe and I leave.  For example, my dream would have me forgetting something like the malaria pills only to then look down at my leg and see a smiling mosquito eating my ankle for lunch.  To this, my wise mother asked, "Then why are you doing this?"  I thought to myself, can I answer that it's because I'm getting a divorce?  Is that a legitimate response?  Should I even care if it's not?

From the stories I've heard, when relationships breakdown, most turn to the bottle, maybe have a lot of sex, refuse to leave the house, or bury their head into a huge tub of ice cream.  I don't know that I've heard the old tale of the person making their way to Africa.  Yet, I think the thought behind it is the same, and certainly I am not any different from anyone else.  You see, while I find myself having an anxiety dream about some Ghanian prison, I find that I'm not having a dream about my husband walking out again.  The rotation of ideas and thoughts and reasons for his leaving play less often in my head and is slowly being replaced by the trip.  I'd be lying if I said that I planned it this way, because I absolutely didn't.  I hoped for a distraction sure, but I never imagined how much this trip would consume me. And it's consumption in the best way possible.  Now I'm certainly not negating the building blocks of the drunken stupor, or the night of random sex, or the various flavors of a well-churned ice cream - it's just that that wouldn't do it for me.  I needed something more lasting, I guess.  I needed something that would match the pace of my racing mind.  

And I have to tell you... I think I've found it.

Best Laid Plans (Part 4)

Joe and Julie Go to Ghana

In order to do a documentary about going on a trip, you must have someone there doing the documenting.  This someone is a sweet-tart-eating, pancake-loving, root-beer-drinking dude named Joe.  Let me be clear on this - the list of foods and beverages that Joe will take into his body can be counted on one hand.  Pancakes: Yes. Sweet Tarts: Yes.  Root Beer: Yes.  Pizza: Yes.  Salmon: Yes.  Everything else: NO.  Many questions arise from this list, such as how salmon somehow got an acceptance letter to Joe's stomach but say, Milky Way bars didn't.  

Now, if Joe were standing over me as I wrote this, I'm sure he would throw some more foods and beverages onto this sad little pile, but there wouldn't be many.  In fact, a typical non-work conversation between Joe and I goes as follows:

Me: "Hey Joe, what about lasagna? Will you eat lasagna?" 

Joe: "No. Gross."

Me: "But you eat pizza and it has basically the same ingredients."

Joe: "But pizza's not gross."

Me: "What about vegetables? Don't you eat any vegetables?"

Joe: "No. I talk alfalfa pills."

Me: "Joe, you need to be studied by the AMA."

Joe: "Bring it on."

Somehow, every conversation degrades into me telling Joe that the American Medical Association should study him and Joe expounding on the power of alfalfa pills.

So, when I was first thinking about doing this documentary and initially talked to Joe about whether he was interested in going with me, my first question was not, 'are you interested?' or 'how do you envision this,' it was "what in the hell are you going to eat???"

Joe promises me that he will "iron man it" as he likes to say, but we've been planning this documentary for awhile now and I have yet to see him show the slightest bit of interest in any foods outside of his safety list.  So now on my Ghana 'to do' list I have: visas, shots, permissions  and ensuring that Joe doesn't whither away and die from lack of food and drink.  I have also promised him one carry-on bag filled with Sweet Tarts, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that I've wondered if Customs will assume that Joe and I are somehow carting drug laced candies with us, since nobody would understand needing to carry an entire bag of Sweet Tarts with them.  Though I also realize that I tend toward worrying... while Joe tends toward... relaxing.

Yes, this is going to be a great partnership.

Best Laid Plans (Part 3)

Planning to do a documentary  throughout my trip was never my intention.  I had really thought that I would just go to Ghana, have the experience of doing the volunteer work, immerse myself in another culture and well... sweat my arse off.  The feeling that I needed to plan something to leave where I was, was palpable.  However, as I started talking about my trip to friends, family and random subway riders, the idea of documenting things became more interesting to me.  The number of people that told me that they had always wanted to do something like I was planning, or that they'd wanted to travel to Africa or do a volunteer vacation was astounding.  I began to feel as if there was energy underneath me, propelling me forward toward this idea of not only getting myself out of my head and away from my comfort zone, but also showing others that they could to.  After all, I truly believe that the expression 'if I can, anyone can' absolutely applies here.  Let's face it, comforts are usually not far from my life. I'm not a huge nature person.  Don't get me wrong - I enjoy nature.  There is nothing like looking at a beautiful forest - from the passenger-side car window, and the expanse of the beautiful ocean - as you sip a cocktail on the deck of a restaurant.  Okay, to some extent, I kid, but to say that the jungle I've been most familiar with is an urban one is the absolute truth.  The main reason I've ever gone camping (and I can count these on one hand), is for the s'mores - and don't even get me started on campground bathrooms!  So, here I am, going to Ghana.  I have no idea what to expect, which usually quite frankly, makes me uncomfortable.  But the entire year has been unexpected, so why not just learn how to... well... expect it.  

Again, if I can, and you've always wanted to, then what's stopping you?

Best Laid Plans (Part 1)

2007 was looking to be a pretty exciting year for me. My first feature film was being produced by On the Leesh and we were scheduled to go into production that spring.  I'd also penned a new webseries and we were looking to launch the show in late winter.  Professionally, both as a writer and actor, things were looking good and I felt like I'd reached new heights in my career.  Personally however, I'd been struggling.  My husband and I decided that we wanted to start a family in the near future, but needed to work some things out first.  However, in the time it would have taken to have a baby - approximately 9 months later, my husband wanted out. He wanted a new life. Now, to go into the details, to list here what I thought went wrong, what my impression was, what I thought his impression was, would not be worth it.  It would develop into a he said/she said that is neither fair nor informative.  It is only necessary to know that I felt abandoned and given up on.  As I'm sure most divorced people know, to be the one that is left, to be the one that is told you are not what the other person wants is unbearingly horrific.  I found myself falling into some abyss in which I was consumed with unanswered questions and encumbered with insecurities about myself and my own failures.  These thoughts can be a full time job.  Added to that grief were questions about my new (and sad) financial status, my solitary living situation and the responsibilities of my dog and cat that I could no longer share with someone. I felt cooked. I began to think about how the idea of planning in life can sometimes seem ridiculous - how preparing can seem akin to predicting mother nature.  By this time last year, I thought I'd be in babyland along with many of my other friends. But now, I find myself back in this single world that went from meeting people in bars to meeting people online.  The handshake went the way of the online "wink" and the first phone conversation has turned into the first email exchange.  I'm finding that your best laid plans are no plans at all.  So what do you do when you realize you're consumed with your own problems and your major plans have collapsed under your feet?  

You go to Ghana.

This entry marks the first of my weekly logs about flying half-way around the world to bring myself back to reality.  That while my heartache is real, there is a world out there that is in much more need of attention than just another newly single girl living in New York City. This is my first entry in my attempt to spend some time out of my own head and into a more hopeful world.  Stay tuned...