Saturday, February 16, 2008

Vomitous Valentine's Day

Mark and I are celebrating Love this weekend, because all I was celebrating on Velentine's Day was porcelain. I debated whether to share this, but it is just so ridiculous and almost farcical. If I didn't know I was pregnant and a slave to those hormones I seriously would have thought I had been poisoned and dying. I woke up at 5am, having to run to the bathroom to throw up, and then continued to throw up every 30-40 minutes until 3 in the afternoon. I would sip water, gnaw on a cracker, only to have to throw it up. If I just happened to even think of a word associated with food, I would have to go throw up. 'No, don't say spatula!' Aaaagh. Today all my stomach muscles and even muscles in my neck and shoulders I didn't even know existed are so sore. And today I feel fine. Go figure.

Enough of that. What I really wanted to talk about today was love. I don't think the origin of St. Valentine's Day was about chocolate and diamonds or even about being in love, but I like to celebrate the love part. I am where I am now because of love. Love brought me to Los Angeles and knocked me up. So I guess, in a way, it was love that made me puke all day! Ha!
I was friends with Mark in Paier College(90-94), and didn't see him again for almost 10 years. I bumped into him again because of the same college. In 2003, he came to give a lecture and I was teaching there.
I really had a thing for him in school, but never really told him. I figured I wasn't pretty enough or cool enough, and he was a bit of a wise ass. I thought his attentions toward me were just to get me into bed. That's what my parents always told me boys only ever wanted. I remember being in almost all the same classes, and even working on a drawing project together. He would always saunter in late, wearing a heavy metal t-shirt, combat boots and long hair, cracking some joke. I thought he was the hottest guy I had ever seen. I recall how the smell of him made me feel weird, a little dizzy and excited. In my high school not many boys had long hair, but I always had crushes on those few. They were mysterious and bad boys. They probably kissed good, I thought. Through the years at art school, Mark and I stayed friends.

Well, it turns out he had a big thing for me too, and never said anything.

We went on with our separate lives after graduation. I joined art sketching groups, went out goth dancing, had a couple of doomed relationships, traveled, worked in Manhatten, and drifted along. It was at the end of a way too long relationship, that I moved back in with my folks for a while, and was teaching at Paier College.
Which brings us to the reuniting. I was good friends with Paier's student activities director, Sue Falato, and she happened to mention to Mark at his lecture that I was teaching there and that I was *single*. Oh, yeah. Well just one catch: Mark is moving to California in 3 weeks. I called the number on his card, excited to see an old friend. Mark sounded a little distracted and mentioned that maybe next week he will have some time, being in the middle of packing up his life. So we made plans to meet on Sunday, which happened to be the day after my birthday. And also happened to be the day after I stayed up all night partying in Manhatten, but wasn't too tired the next afternoon. God, I could never do that now. The next 10 days were a blur. I felt like a pawn in a game, being moved around, following some grand plan. Didn't sleep much; We would stay up all night talking. When I had to go to work and leave him, it hurt. But the BIG THING, which even as it was happening I was all,"Wha?", happened one day when Mark and I went to a cafe. We were chatting about everything and nothing, sitting in a bubble of sleep-deprived euphoria. And then I felt this electrically charged gentle wind inside my body, filling my breath. A sweet, distant voice said, "This is him. This is the father of your children." And I looked around me, like "Wha? Jeez, Joy you need some sleep." Naaah, wishful thinking, maybe.
But it didn't take long for me to realize I really was in big trouble. What am I going to do? He is moving to Los Angeles! Three days before he was to get in his car and drive to the other side of the country, he laid it on me. He pulled me close and said, "I have to tell you something. I am in love with you." Without hesitation, I told him that I loved him too. We cried.
And we made a plan. I knew I would spend the rest of my life with him, even more than I was certain about the sun rising every morning. We were a great team. I felt I knew him as well as I knew myself. I know how he works, and I finally felt someone understood my wacky self.
So he would go to LA, and see how it goes. I would stay in Connecticut, and see how it goes. I flew out there every single moment I could to be with him. We paid thousands in plane tickets and cel phone bills. FYI: Cingular won't give long distance love discounts.
Two months after we met(again), we decided we would get married. (It only took us 4 years to actually get around to the wedding.) And ten months later, we moved in together in Burbank. Then, adopted two cats, got engaged, got married, and got pregnant, in that order. I feel we are the luckiest people to have found eachother.

Happy Valentine's Day!


saffry said...

I so glad to have heard the whole story. I knew parts, but I'd never heard about your spark of inspiration before. Love it.

ks1k said...

Great story. True one too. :-)

Thanks for sharing