"The Flower Said I Wish I Was a Tree, The Tree Said I Wish I Could Be, a Different Kind of Tree.-"
There’s something cleansing about an early morning rain. When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t help but feel a little refreshed, after taking a long hot shower. After toweling off and selecting my outfit from my closet, I turned to look outside to asses the weather. Wet. There’s a tree that grows in my neighbor’s yard that branches out right up to my window that drooped lazily under the weight of the freshly fallen rain.
Sometimes I lie in my bed and look out the window, and think about how I used to play in this old tree house when I was a kid. It’s easy to wish life was that simple, again. Getting mad when mom made us stop playing groundies on the play ground to come in and go to bed, or waking up early, because we knew my older brother CJ was going to come and visit us.
When I was a little kid, I always dreamed about growing up, and getting as far away as I could, always desperately trying to escape the clutches of my crazed mother. Little did I know, with adult hood came adult responsibilities and adult feelings. In a matter of years I went from hide and seek in our yard, to hiding from ex-boyfriends, and seeking new ones, at the club.
I’m not playing in a completely different fantasy land, though. I’m living in a world, where people are pretending that they are celebrities, and lead this fabulous, gaudy, luxurious lifestyles. In reality, they’re just sluts, and have fucked everybody. My mystical back yard has broadened to Cheeseman Park, the club scene, and house parties. I’ve just traded my super hero powers for the power of persuasion and gossip. Now, the dragons I used to battle as a kid have grown into skinny white boys that wear knock off Burberry, and drive their mommy’s convertible.
I thought by dating someone a bit older than I normally do, I would find someone that had more substance, and lived their life down here on earth. What I found, was a little too much substance.
He was smart, funny, very clearly successful (judging by his convertible BMW, his Dolce and Gabanna jeans), but I just didn’t feel that spark. He was significantly more educated than me on current international events, and considerably more traveled. Then again, who isn’t? I’ve only had to opportunity to leave Colorado once. It’s a challenge to gain worldly experience when you’re land locked in state full of heterosexual Caucasian Christians, who think by going to church every week, they make up for their secret methamphetamine addiction and solicited homosexual affairs with prostitutes. Sound about right, Reverend Ted Haggard?
Yesterday afternoon, he drove us to a very inconspicuous Chinese food restaurant a few miles east of downtown, on Broadway. While the food was delicious (it actually might have been the Chinese food I have ever had), I felt like I was Carrie, when a date of hers would take her to a very seedy restaurant that was filled with what she later realized, were married men. I didn’t mind, however. It was private and quiet, where we had the opportunity to talk.
Mere minutes into talking, I knew that I wasn’t quite at his level. This, we both recognized, was because of the significant age gap. (He’s three years younger than my mom… making him 34) As much as I consider myself to be mature and experienced with men (and life), it took someone with his mind to bring me back down to earth. I’ve been living in my own fantasy world, where I thought that I was this smart, educated boy beyond his years, where I considered to know a lot about what’s going on in the world. After being lost in his conversation for a few moments, I realized that I had started slipping into thinking like the every gay man I hate.
We drove back to his house, where we hugged, and parted ways. I sat in my jeep for a moment, thinking about how vapid I must have sounded, talking about indi-pop bands, and the salon I worked for. I stopped at Diedrichs on my way home to grab a non-fat white mocha, and spend some time by myself. It had started to rain, and all I wanted was to sit on the patio, smoke a cigarette, drink my favorite cozy beverage, and watch it pour.
A smiled at the barista’s cute attempt at flirting with me when I ordered my drink, but I was in no mood to play cute little hipster. It was strange. For the first time in as far as I could remember, I felt that I wasn’t intelligent enough for someone. It definitely sent me for a loop, and sparked some inner thought. I thanked him, said goodbye, and left him with a wink and a smile.
I sat on the patio for over an hour, blithely staring into the rain, lost in thought. Here I was, wanting more out of people, and the minute I meet that someone who has more, I am completely overwhelmed. It was almost amusing how I’ve turned into a modern day Goldilocks (platinum hair and all). This boy is too hot. This man is too old. This bed is too small… Well the chair at Diedrichs was just right.
You can call me picky if you will, but I think it’s imperative to be as selective as possible while dating. You can’t force something that’s not right. You have to meet someone that is on the same level as you, otherwise it just won’t work. I’m not ready to have a big adult job, with a fancy car. I don’t want to have to live with the OCD of wearing all designer names, all the time. I still want to get dirty when I play with my brothers, and mess up my credit. I think I need to take a step back, and enjoy being 18 for a while. I can have a fabulous apartment and shiny mid-life crisis car… when my mid life comes. Until then, I’ll be fabulous driving around in a car I can afford, living the life of a teenager.
I guess this fisherman will have to look for younger fish in the sea. (If you can call Denver a sea, that is.)
Matty B.
