Despite the gloom I often blog about, my life is full of light. I document both because, from my perspective, the night is how we come to appreciate the dawn.
Last night was full of sunlight, but I’ll get to that later. First, some context.
My therapist Andre has often pointed out I tend to choose unavailable friends, coworkers, lovers, situations, etc. to rest my hopes on. White knight syndrome, I suppose. No matter the beginning, the outcome is the same – I get trapped in the Drama Triangle, taking turns playing both rescuer and perpetrator to my inner victim.
For example, I married a rescuer and mostly played victim throughout the relationship. When, inevitably, she couldn’t save me, and often overcome with a toxic cocktail of resentment and despair, I might morph into perpetrator, giving her a chance at victim. Needless to say, that wasn’t a recipe for success.
Nonetheless, we have three beautiful children and a rich experience to draw from as we move forward. I’m grateful for all of it.
Don Miguel Ruiz, in his book The Four Agreements, says that it is the false idea we have of ourselves – the ‘smoke’ between us and the mirror of reality – which causes all the suffering in the world. In that sense, although the divorce was painful, in the aftermath, there is now much less smoke between me and my true self.
Now, as the smoke dissipates and who I really am becomes more visible to me, my gratitude for what I’m learning deepens and my relationship to the law of attraction grows healthier. Said differently, it’s something like, the more sunlight I let in, the longer the days.
Which brings me to last night.
At 6:10 I met a girl again for the first time. After an eventful Uber ride from a recently widowed senior citizen, we took to throwing hatchets at a large wooden dart board in North Tulsa.
Hiding behind her brilliant smile was a stockpile of anxiety built up over an afternoon spent watching axe throwing fails which had convinced her that our date was going to end in her untimely demise. But the host – who we named Karli – soon settled us in, partly thru helpful instruction, but mostly thru necessity as she left us in charge of the sound system while attending to work duties in the back office.
Axe throwing ended in a bullseye, literally, when my date landed the winning shot squarely in the center of the board as our hour expired. Anxiety now washed away and replaced by a shared appetite, we headed over to Duet for some amazing mac-n-cheese, less amazing hummus, and lots more laughs.
Dinner was wonderful. While sharing stories over appetizers, I noticed a surprising mixture of calm and excitement that hasn’t left me since. Covering Canada, careers and even canibalism, the conversation was the only thing better than the food. Three hours passed effortlessly. It felt good to just be myself and, when I asked her, she admitted to enjoying herself too. This I believe because I witnessed what a terrible liar she is when she tried to convince the waitress she enjoyed the hummus.
Walking out of Duet around 10:00 we decided to continue the evening at R-bar for a night cap but not before discovering this lovely present from a downtown meter maid:
I told her I would almost rather have the ticket as it’s going to cost me much more time to get the superglue-residue cleaned from the drivers-side window. I think she’s still chuckling over it, but at least it wasn’t on the windshield!
R-bar = bizarro-world
…at least last night, or maybe in the past I was participating in it too much to notice.…
Regardless, on the patio and to our right, we witnessed what must have been the cross-fit convention after party. At one point the alpha of the pack, in a display of dominance, shook hands so hard with another man in the group that he pulled him out of his chair and onto the table.
Not long after (or was it before?) a young lady neck deep in martini’s, with lips strangely swollen and unevenly covered in bright pink lipstick, joined our table. As she sat, she simultaneously slung her 50 lb. ‘puppy’ directly in my lap. Fifteen minutes of unsolicited drunken doggie diaries ensued while my date politely concealed her mounting allergic reaction to the fuzzy canine.
As that episode wrapped up – allergies averted – we noticed what appeared to be a refreshingly normal table of three chatting quietly in the corner to our left, 180 degrees from the cross-fit clan. The normalcy didn’t last but a moment as, just then, a middle-aged, English professor-type fired up his flat black Harley. One of the two women at the ‘normal’ table, the one who appeared to be third wheel to the other two, burst into an obscenity laced tirade like a wound up jack in the box. Shouting for several minutes about how big of a d*** the motorcyclist must have and how excited she was about it, much to the chagrin of the couple at her table, who all but melted in an effort to hide their embarrassment. I assume the biker was enjoying the spectacle or didn’t notice over his roaring engine, because he was in no hurry to leave. Pure comedic gold, you can’t make this stuff up.
Did I mention the possum scare? Seriously, when a possum on the patio is the least exciting thing that happens you know you’re doing it right.
But I’m older than I used to be and, as much fun as I was having, it was well past my bedtime and I thought it best to call it a night before the next panel of Jerry Springer guests arrived.
And that’s it, that was my night of light. Paid for by the long, steady journey through the dark and smokey unknowing towards the crystal clarity of personal truth.
truth in action = happiness
(because everyone loves math)
Here’s to many more and longer days to come. You know who you are.
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