Weight Lifted. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

After some overtime staff meetings, I did get to the gym. Late, but I get a pass for showing up.

(For nonreaders, I use “staff meeting” to refer to my interior monologues where I talk to myself ad nauseum.)

Her daughter cameoed in a dream. She had my camera? It was silverish with a pinkish front. Squarer than the one I used to use. She said she borrowed it two hours ago. It was a dream, so naturally I thought, “I don’t remember this.”

Lauren herself also cameoed, but I forget the context.

I woke up kind of sobbing and feeling all the emotions.

Boy am I glad I had today off. To spend the time with my brain and feels in diagnostic mode.

Recounting. Analyzing. Feeling. Processing. Concluding. Recalculating. Realigning the lateral sensor array.

Always realign the lateral sensor array.

(That… actually doesn’t mean anything, in this case. I know sometimes I like talking in pretentious code, but that’s just Star Trek nonsense.)

I asked myself what the best case scenario was. And the thing is, it isn’t that she reciprocated. I never wanted to be a homewrecker. Reciprocation would open up a gigantic can of worms. While our innuendo is through the roof, I correctly read her nonverbal cues as non-flirty.

As I joke, “I’m not a complete idiot, just a partial idiot.” The non-idiot side won this one. : )

I said in a text that I felt nervous. She confirmed this by verbally saying, “Wow, you are nervous.” I reassured myself that she’s the girl that runs up to me, hugs me, snorts, and wets herself. Trust her. She’s not some nebulous unknown entity.

To recount, as I rested my elbows on her counter. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. I took a breath. “Lauren, you know I have feelings for you.”

“No, I… didn’t know.”

Pause.

“Well, I feel embarrassed.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed for.”

It was a truth, but it’s fun to reflect on. Why was I embarrassed? As a guy who wants to be in touch with his emotions, I like asking these question. Maybe embarrassed wasn’t entirely the word.

Vulnerable might have been more accurate.

I had all the staff meetings to prepare for this. I was able to tell her how I felt after my second shift with her. That I have no interest in subjecting her husband to the pain I felt after my wife left me.

She had no preparation for this.

She handled me with sensitivity and kindness.

A friend comes out and says they have feels for you.

What do you say to that?

After hugging me at the door, she said, “If you get cheesecake diarrhea, don’t tell me!”

Because that’s the kind of over-the-top stuff she’ll say just to get a smile out of me.

I mentioned to her that the stuffing tends to smell the same way on the way out. I sooo have reserved “So, how did your poop smell” as a staff meeting organized line to use.

(Guys, I literally have jokes I have come up with in staff meetings that sometimes take years before they ever have a moment to shine in conversation.)

So yeah. I got to the gym. The change of scenery gave me a little strength, pun intended.

My staff meetings can be sometimes really harsh on myself. So, I endeavored to be nice to myself. I took that step back. There’s a girl I have had feelings for for six months, not able to say a word about it. I walked into her home, cooked her and her kids dinner, had some really nice personal conversation about things that go beyond this entry.

And at the end of the night, finally told her how I felt. Full well knowing it was unrequited.

You know what?

That takes balls.

I’ve been saying for almost three years now that it has felt like my story was over. After my wife left me, it felt like the credits rolled. Everyone else, including you, seemed to have a life. It felt like my life was over, I was still sitting in the theater, and everyone had gone home to their life, their story.

Well.

Isn’t this a story?

And.

I don’t feel feel it, but having told her, there is a weight lifted from me. Oh sure, I won’t out myself to the crew. I don’t tell coworkers shit. My boss seems to adore my line, whenever I’m asked how I am, “Another day at the office.” In recent weeks, she’s greeted me with, “Welcome back to the office!”

What’s that olde expression I used for a long time after That Thing I Don’t Talk About. Ha, the irony of invoking that for this:

The truth will set you free.

It was never really lying. I never hid how I felt. I just kept my hands to myself and never flirted with her. Because if you’re going to build trust, while Words Matter, actions also speak volumes.

And with truth comes some kind of passive confidence. It’s hard to describe.

I say I’m subby because I like being vulnerable, and in that moment validated. She could have hurt me, but didn’t - she treated me with kindness and sensitivity.

For three years I thought I was going to kill myself.

I’m going to make it to 40. There’s apparently more story left to be written.

Life takes balls.