On Location, Off the Radar

Ex-boyfriend isn't the right term for this week's NYC visitor. For years, we've been friendly, but I'm not sure if I'd call him a friend. For almost all of college, we rarely met the other's friends. Our meetings were limited to clandestine encounters, usually late at night, a tryst here and there. More often than expected, we ran into each other while with our respective social circle creating some of the most awkward situations.

Thinking back, he was always around, just there when no one was looking. He's bailed me out of tough situations; he's been great about keeping in touch. He's always been discrete, never involved with someone the way that I was involved. He was usually free to roam the scene, my scene, even when that scene included someone else. I found him hard to know how to handle him at times, but it's never been as hard as it was this week.

After six years of sneaking around in Texas, Rodrigo was finally in the Nu York, albeit only as a tourist, and I was expected to make the time to see him. Until he arrived, I didn't know with whom he was coming, where he was staying, or, most importantly, how much he actually wanted to see me. But, this week, I couldn't have been busier at work. Consequently, I was exhausted. And, that wholesome family life in Austin saw some alarming situations which monopolize my attention. Eerily, I developed an arresting foot pain not unlike my mother's most recent condition.

All in all, this wasn't a good week for extra-curriculars. Frankly, this wasn't even a good week for business-as-usual. Meals were skipped; expletives resounded. Friday was a welcomed force in time. But, as I lit the Shabbos candles, Rodrigo and his cousin were packing their bags in anticipation of their flight home to Austin. As I scrupulously scrubbed the Shabbos spinach for the Sabbath salad, I pondered what I might have missed; and, they had no idea.

I didn't show. I never said I would, but still, I didn't show. I couldn't show up. I was informed that they wanted to "go clubbin'." How could I? Daniel and I have little time together during week. Bringing him along would have been disastrous, insulting, and, really, just wrong. How could I justify a good time on the town with someone with whom I'd been so bad? If Daniel had even considered this with someone like Rodrigo, I'd have been beyond offended. But, there was little in question. There was just no way around it; my priorities, at least for this week, were elsewhere.

I can't shake the feeling that I imagine Rosanna Arquette's character must have experienced in that Madonna movie, "Desperately Seeking Susan." You know; she's that New Jersey homemaker whose curiosity is piqued by a free-spirited couple who communicates via the personals page. She's involved in the drama only vicariously until she sheds her peeping persona in an accident in which she's hit while being nosy on the Battery Park. Having lost her memory, she awoke with reasons to believe that she is Madonna's trouble-making character, Susan. But, I digress. What I mean is that, in many ways, I miss those days of irresponsible passion, of sneaking, of meeting someone who wasn't necessarily the best for me.

For now, I'll mourn what no one else misses. I'll remember that for which few were present. In time, I hope that he will understand my obligations, and I hope that I will assume those duties soon without regret.