INTIMACY

I must admit, I'm not nearly as prepared for intimacy as I'd like. Granted, I had forgotten just how pervasive the lack of intimacy is here but nevertheless I'm amazed at how much an intimate relationship can throw me for a loop. Keep in mind, as I discuss "intimate" it's not a euphemism for "sex" or even "romantic attachment" but rather that specific emotional connection you feel towards someone with whom you are more often than not without defense and equal parts raw and complete.

My first love almost always has and probably always will be capable of throwing me for a loop... without even trying. Ironically, I have never known him to try. In fact, I'm quite certain there is no one in the history of the world who has ever tried harder NOT to throw me for a loop... ever. To speak bluntly, there is no one in the world I trust more than he and there is no one in the world who has ever been steadier with accepting me as I am. Yes, I have pissed him off and known it. Yes, we have hurt each other. However, he is the only person I have ever known who has never abandoned me out of frustration and has always made himself available to the best of his ability. And, to his great pleasure- I'm sure- he is the only person around whom I have always felt comfortable just being me as I think of me, in all my lunacy. My one great regret about our friendship is that I was not there for him during a particularly difficult time for him. It is, actually, the single regret I have about my life.

There is no one who, at current, can get a rise out of me the way he can nor is there anyone quite as capable of putting me at ease. The fact that I live in a world where no one can access- much less challenge- me the way he does makes me even less prepared to handle myself around him. At home, I am surrounded by a social network of girlfriends who keep me honest about who I am and in whose company I can forget about the "role" I play for them. That keeps me honest and clear on who I am. However, I am not at home. So, in my occasional dealings with him while I'm here, I find myself not the stoic leader with this fantastical future ahead of her that everyone else seems to see but the spastic teen most of us fear being and are happy we outgrew.

This is China and so I am accustomed to the necessity of the patience of a saint merely to get through the day. The Chinese custom is that all meetings will consider beginning no sooner than one hour and a half after the scheduled start time. No one in China ever plans anything and, as my Brazilian Angel so aptly coined, "Darling, this is last minute dot com." I am accustomed to people not thinking about me until 1 am and then indulging in their desire to speak with me right then and there despite the fact that they flaked on our lunch date earlier in the day. I am not human to most of the people I meet here and so, in many ways, I am exempt from the human condition. I need to not be invested in the men who wax poetic about me for I am merely mute, alabaster breasts with blonde hair, blue eyes and a greencard vagina on a pedestal. I am every man's dream because I am merely their perceived perfect blank canvas. I need not be invested in most of the women who befriend me for I am merely the exotic beauty they use to up their social status. I need not waste my time connecting with most of the foreigners for I am merely the fellow sister with strength and potential to envy or the powerful goddess he wishes his wife still was. I am placid, unflappable and infinitely tolerant because, to put it bluntly, I am irrelevant.

However, one mere mention in passing from my first love that he had to pencil in time to contact me so he wouldn't forget and I go off the deep end. I'm furious someone as important as he has been to me has to remind himself to think of me; has to note me on a calendar. I'm crying at the thought that the affection I will always hold for him is a stupid, nostalgic fool's errand built on nothing but my own pathetic projection. And, I find myself erasing all the emails he's ever sent me because I suddenly find that I am not exempt from the human condition and am, in fact, very capable of going to that crazy girl place... and far more easily than I would care to admit to. In a world where I am the calmest, most rational, reasonable human being around- a veritable bodhisvatta- I find myself in the midst of an overreaction worthy of some sort of scientific award. I believe I discovered spontaneous generation; the creation of an infinite amount of energy from absolutely nothing. Because I'm an eight year old, I actually found myself swearing I would never speak to him again and see how he liked it. And then I shot off an email to my girl from that dark space about how hurt I was.

Kali was back but at least this time, for the first time, I had the good sense to see I was losing my mind and not inflict it upon him.

As I purged all electronic things (I would never be able to rid myself of the more tangible pieces of him) from him with vengeance, he then sent a follow up email and a request to chat online with me. Begrudgingly, I accepted, though not after debating ignoring him. And between the compendium email he sent me and the chat we had online, I remember precisely what I adore about him. I adore his steadiness, which results in various things, including his need to have a calendar of "to do" things in order to prioritize. He is anything but reckless and I adore that. That is not to say that he does not have earth-shattering passion but that is to say he's more adult about it than I am. He is mature enough to weigh the pragmatic and sort out a way to make real life coexist with his passion. It doesn't mean his affection is greater or lesser than mine, merely realized differently. Mine just happens to be a lot louder and his, perhaps, is a lot stronger. At the very least, it's far more dependable.

Frankly, it's lovely being revealed to be such an immature, raving lunatic. I was starting to think this detachment wasn't merely a geographical issue but rather something more permanent and insidious; that I had lost my ability to engage emotionally. Leave it to him to prove me wrong in the nicest possible way.