General Buzz, Miscellany, Uncategorized

Those Days

πŸ˜πŸ˜šπŸ’•

And a random orange wall….

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General Buzz, Heidi, Miscellany, Uncategorized

I’m Sorry But I Fell in Love With You

Somewhere between Lake Wales and Vero Beach, Florida, yesterday, sitting in my car, pulled off to the side of highway 60, in a cow pasture, lost on the way home from Miami, I took out my phone and with tears streaming down my face I confessed to myself and to someone-maybe it was her, maybe someone else (I’m not sure because everyone wears so many hats these days on social media)-by posting a message on Instagram, what I finally realized I was never going to be able to say to Heidi El Tabakh.

“I love you, Heidi.”

That I have been in love with her since the minute I first saw her.

Because dunce that I am I finally realized I have no choice but to accept the inescapable reality that I am never going to have a chance to see her again, and to finally summon the courage to say hello to her and meet her, after a multitude of failed opportunities and because she is and probably always has been in love with someone. Someone else.

Despite having an uneasy Spidey sense about it for months, and promising myself that I wouldn’t, despite knowing better, I went again to the Miami Open to see for myself. Because like any good barrister I am real curious. And I was somehow hoping I’d gotten it wrong. That maybe there really wasn’t anyone else. But I am pretty sure there was. I did see her, briefly, when she suddenly came in and sat down in the stands at one match I was watching. The last one, it turned out. She looked too pretty not to be meeting someone. Her dark eyes were beautiful.

I looked away, heartbroken. And I knew she had to be there for whoever it was she had her heart set on. And I didn’t want to see it, and I started to tremble and I wanted to run as far and fast as possible. And disappear. And then the changeover came and I stumbled and left and ran. And I couldn’t sleep at my hotel that night because I couldn’t stop thinking of her, and the next day I was such a wreck that I got lost driving home. I got on the Turnpike by mistake and missed a bunch of exits and that’s how I ended up in that cow pasture half way between Lake Wales and Vero Beach. I’d seen her play four years ago in Vero.

And in that desolate spot, crying, my clothes soaked with tears, the last tendrils of my dreams of meeting with her, talking with her, listening to her, sharing with her, being there for her, supporting and watching her achieve her dreams, laughing with her, gazing into her eyes, getting her to smile and melting with her, all ebbing away by the second, I wanted to tell her how I felt about her. At least one time. So that she might really see it. Before it was too late to regret never telling her. Not that it would matter to her.

And so I did. Tell her. Tell someone. Probably not her. But someone. Someone who had liked my picture of her. And me. And whose Instagram name seems suspiciously familiar. And who likes tennis. And a photographer friend in Montreal. So maybe I did tell her. I hope I did. Before she gets married, if she is engaged. Just so she knows. Just so she knows how much she means to me and how much I love her.

And then after I sent my message, I died. My dreams.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help falling in love with you?

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

For I can’t help falling in love with you

– Can’t Help Falling in Love with You

Elvis Presley

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General Buzz, Miscellany, Uncategorized

A Year

One of the dumbest of clichΓ©s, but I’ll say it anyway. What a difference a year makes.

One year ago, tonight, more or less, I was making an unbelieveably crazy, romantic, and undoutedly foolhardy once in a lifetime odyssey. The kind you don’t think about about–you just do. The kind of odyssey your friends call ‘stupid’ and ‘moronic’.

Because they don’t understand. They don’t get it. They never had a dream girl.

Well, I never met her. Not then. Not with any of the many chances I had through the years either. She was a star that just burned too bright to touch. And then it was too late.

And, now, one year later, I’m pretty sure she has a significant other. A husband, or fiance, or steady boyfriend. I think the pessimist in me, or maybe it’s the realist, is starting to uderstand that she did all along. For years. And that I misread everything as much as it were possible if I was looking at a negative instead of a photo. Or if not, that’s the impression she wants to give to people like me. People who are too helpless to do anything but fall in love with her.

And so I sit in my lonely hotel room in Miami again, having come to the Miami Open to make what will undoubtedly be a disastrously failed attempt to forget her and move on with my life. Find someone new.

And it was horrible. And she was there. At the end. As I was leaving. And I couldn’t even look at her. Because I knew. I think she was there to see him. And his family. And I didn’t want to hear it. Because it would be worse than dying. And it was anyway. It was worse than dying.

And I don’t want anyone new in my head. In my dreams. I don’t want anyone else in there.

I want to go back. I want to run after her stupidly again. Because even though I believe in my heart now that she is married, and that all I was to her was a indiscriminate click on her photos, someone she never knew or cared about, I won’t ever be able to forget her. In a very private place I keep deep inside my heart, she was and will always be The Girl. Even if she’s someone else’s. And that is the saddest thing I can think of, because that’s the crushing reality of life.

Always.

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General Buzz, Miscellany, Uncategorized

Completely Broken

The only thing I truly dreaded, was the the reality that she was someone else’s.

I think I avoided that reality for so long because I ….because….because I fell in love with her. And I didn’t want my heart to shatter into a billion pieces.

And that’s just what happened. Today, by accident, or maybe it was fate, or by some design, I found it. Seeing her there, next to him, happy, in that picture….the ‘family unit’. My heart broke. Broke into so many pieces.

Every morning I’ve tried to prepare for it, imagining how I might find out. What I might find out.

Seven years of helplessly, day by day, falling madly, totally, head over heels in love with her. Trying to learn whatever I could about her. And to find out in a matter of seconds. To see them, together, with the family, in a couples pose. It hurts more than words…

And in that instant, my world ended. It’s not funny. It’s not a dumb little crush. It’s cold, and cruel to make fun of someone who feels hurt because they dared to like someone. Had the courage to like someone, and to express it. I am a writer, not a talker. This is how I communicate. Some of us are painfully shy and self conscious and simply can’t find any other way.

My heart is broken.

I know you never cared who I was or that I existed. But I loved you. I dreamed of you, and I loved you. But you knew. Because your friends knew, and because whenever I tried to express how I felt, or find ways to tell you, or was hurt if I thought you simply didn’t care, you made fun, or teased, tried to get me not to like you, so I’d go away. And not be a bother to you.

Well, even though it took me awhile to catch on, you can see that I finally found what you wanted me to see. Your…family. So I get it now.

Well I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forced you to that. That makes me feel sick inside, and I’m sorry.

So no more dreams. No more Miamis. No more Eleventh Hour Don Quixote quests. I got the message.

The most painful, horrible thing is, I will never ever be able to forget your face. You’ll be blissfully happy in your good and wonderful life and I’ll be miserable and stuck in love with you forever.

Because I am not a talker.

Thinking about all of the chances I had to say something to you. Just once. Just a minute or two with you. I would have been thrilled.

But I am not a talker.

So it’s a horrible, horrible fate. πŸ’” 😒😒😒

And I’m sorry it was abrupt, and I’m sorry to take back those memories, but I don’t want to share them with anyone else. Not your marketing friend, or your tennis friends, or your modeling friends, or clients or whoever. An, not even your new family. They were for you. Not all of the people you were or are influencing. Especially if that’s all they meant to you.

So goodbye. And good luck.

Even though you don’t understand how I feel about you, that’s ok. Maybe someday, when you’re old and grey, you will.

I hope you have a wonderful, wonderful life.

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General Buzz, Miscellany, Uncategorized

What She Means

Someone asked recently why I was so apathetic lately about tennis. I guess I don’t watch much anymore on television, or talk about it, or go to see many tournaments in person, and my friend started noticing. Mainly because he doesn’t have anybody to joke around with at the tournaments, I guess.

As for me, and my disinterest as of late, I have thought hard about it and decided that there is a difference between merely watching tennis and playing it your whole life, which can be a pursuit and a passion in and of itself, and in having the lust for the sport to indiscriminately love watching any player or any match. Between being more than casually interested in it, following it, knowing who the players are, the strengths and weaknesses of their games, their career statistics…and in being completely, totally paralyzed the twenty-four hours before her match, unable to eat, think, concentrate, work, function…until she’s done, win or lose. You absorb every loss, exult contagiously in each win, you laugh with her, you cry with her, you take pride in her accomplishments to the extent that you are darn sure there’s no one on the planet who knows more about her, and that one teeny tiny tweak that could make her a champion, than you. When nobody can possibly tell you that she’s not going to make it to Number One.

When you dream about simply having a moment–one moment–with her, to yourself, away from the world. To give her the love that has grown, inside your heart, all of these years, cheering her.

This is what she has come to mean to you.

This is the void she leaves.

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