Utah: Part 2, The Meantime

I fell in love in Utah...

Wait, I've already said that.  And to be honest, I did, I guess.  I found a guy who I have a great time with, can tell anything to, and I want to live with for the rest of my life....

Tyler Welden.

But love sounds so mushy and gross, because this guy is my life-partner bro, NOT a guy I would date. First of all, he's built like a malnourished sapling.  Secondly...well, that's mainly it, but really, sometimes the magic of a friendship just doesn't translate to romance.

Tyler lived across the hall, with a petite sized couple we would all learn to love we'll call The Penguins. I was there marginally less-annoying Kimmy Gibbler.  Tyler spent all summer listening to the ups and downs of the Opera Guy roller coaster, but it wasn't until our last production of South Pacific that I finally pointed him out to him.

"WHAT?! You've spent all summer obsessing about THAT guy?!  Are you blind and I didn't know it??  You're not out of his league, he's not even playing in the same BALLPARK as you....he's like in a field two towns over...You're not a step above him you are an ENTIRE STAIRCASE!!!  In what world does this guy have ANY girls that like him, let alone multiple?!"

Rants like this are not unusual for Tyler, but this one was particularly funny.  I took it as a compliment instead of a ritual slaughtering of judgement.  Periodically while working our last shows he would text me "Are you serious?" or "I can't get over this. Am I being Punk'd?"  to remind me of my stupidity.

Tyler is also the creator of the slam birthday tradition.  Mr. Penguin was turning 25 that summer, and I got him some of his favorite chocolate as a present. Not to be outdone, Tyler decided to insult him 25 times as his present.  Mrs. Penguin's birthday came and she received the same heartfelt gift.  I would not receive my first slam-birthday present until the following year, when separated by many miles, we decided to take the tradition to Facebook, much to the horror of our well-wishing friends and family, I'm sure.

I made some vague promises to Opera Guy about going to shows and recitals that first quarter back at school, that I never made good on, and he toyed around with visiting, but never really followed through, until it was almost winter, and the summer memories had faded like the antique setting on an Instagram photo.

 He had an audition in Cincinnati.  We would meet during my lunch hour.  So, I skipped lunch and spent the entire hour standing around while he talked to other singers.  I was wearing my favorite green vintage dress and feather headpiece.  He said I looked like a tree.  He didn't mean it in a nice way.  He also joked that design is for people who can't perform.  When I finally went through the double doors that lead to the design wing of the school I stopped for a second, leaning on a handrail, and held back tears.  It was like that day in Utah, but this time I felt like a fool.  I quickly straightened and went back to work.

He texted me later but I did not reply.  Then he asked if I was ignoring him.  I explained precisely how rude he had been, and we left it at that.

Several weeks later I was out with a mutual friend of ours telling him the story and he just shrugged and said "Well, that's Opera Guy."  (but of course he said the guy's name).  I knew that Opera Guy was just blindly inconsiderate, so I texted him and said: I'm not mad anymore.   I'm over it.

No reply, so I went about my life.

Then, one day surprised me by just showing up down in my shop.  I was working on a hat, but I can't remember which one.  He stood there, out of his element, in his audition suit, and asked me if I'd like to go to dinner.

We went to the Thai Cafe where he complained about his lady love from the past summer and how she had cheated on him, and how he had been dealing with that.  I felt somewhat smug, but my heart went out to him.  He seemed so defeated, so unsure.

He asked me to stay with him in his hotel room.  He wasn't going to stay the night, but as if like magic the first snow came and dusted the city in white, so he didn't want to drive the 2+ hours back.  I brought my work with me because that's what you have to do in grad school.  However his constant poking and prodding made for enough of a distraction that I quickly gave up, like a frazzled mother giving in  to an unruly child.

We rolled around the bed a bit and suddenly were in the same position as that night in Utah.

"I can't date you," he said, "I can't date anybody.  I'm so messed up right now and I don't know where I'm going to be...."
"That's okay..." I started, touching his face.
"No, you don't understand.  I don't want to date you now because I don't ever want to not have you in my life.  You are like sunshine.  You let me know that there are truly good people in this world, and I don't want to mess that up."
"Yeah, well, I don't want to date you...ever."
"What?"
"You have so many issues, and you're all hung up on your ex, but even if you weren't you're super high-maintenance, and needy, and inconsiderate, and  I would never want to date you...ever...so can we please just do this?"

That first kiss was like the Fourth of July.  All rockets and light.  But after a while I became bored, and stopped.

"Yeah, thanks for that, I'm over it."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, there's no real reason for me to put in the extra work here, and I'm good, so you can just finish yourself, or whatever.  I don't care."
"You are like a dude!  Nobody has ever done that to me!"

And just like that, the power became mine.  I bragged about it to Tyler that NYE when we met up with The Penguins in Chicago.

"You really did win this one.  Also, you're such a dude."  High five.

If only it had ended there.  If only.