an extreme case of the ex

During my stay in sunny Carlsbad, California for Memorial Weekend, my T-Zone had become a little oily and to prevent a disastrous outbreak, I stopped at Walgreens and picked up a bottle of Queen Helen's Mint Julep Masque. I was at the register when the cashier said, "Can I ask you a question?"

I hate when people say that. You never know exactly what's on their minds and to be thrown for a loop like that, can be very disconcerning. She must've taken my silence as a "yes" because right then and there she asked her question.

"If a guy is still friends - still talking - to an ex, does that mean he wants to get back together with her?"

It was a loaded question. One that should be left to those in the profession of diagnosing matters of the heart. Not me. So I did my best, using every ounce of knowledge I had garnered from movies, television, and of course, real life. I explained that

"If the guy was friends with the girl, before he dated her, then it doesn't necessarily mean he wants to get back together with her, just that he's looking for a friend. Which is weird, because that's why he has you for. If he wasn't friends before, then stay back! An ex is an ex for a reason. Its the same reason you don't go back to a hair stylist that gave you an ugly haircut. Too much heartache."

The cashier thanked me for my advice and I left with the satisfaction of knowing I helped make the world a better place. The same feeling that Dr. Phil and Jerry Springer must feel everyday. Of course, like the old saying goes, "if you give a mouse a cookie..." another situation will be sure to follow, and that's exactly what happened when I got back into town. The "mouse," in this situation, was my boss Alice and the "cookie" was, well, the same cookie.

"If someone is still talking to someone from their past, even though they know very well that that someone has brought pain and heartache to them and their family before...that's a bad thing right?"

I didn't know if Alice was talking about her mother, who had recently gotten married for the third time or her little, all-state high school quarterback brother who kept breaking up with the high school prom queen, but I knew Alice already knew the answer. I guess all she wanted was a little reassurance she was making a right decision.

I'm not sure whether it was meant to be or not, but after Alice and I talked, I found a letter left out in the open at work. It was to Azten. And it was stained with tears. Heart-breaking, emotional tears. Apparently, Azten had signed all the property and real estate that he and Alice owned together, to the woman he had an affair with, during his marriage. She was a real estate agent, like Azten, which explains how they met. What it didn't explain was why he would have her sell the real estate that he and his wife accumulated together.

As I read Mary's words of hurt and anger, which hopefully would be the last and final words to a man like Azten, I wondered how someone could have the heart to hurt someone else so much.

schadenfreude

Schadenfreude. It's the German word for feeling pleasure at someone else's misfortune. And approprietely enough, it's the exact word that I would use to describe a recent phone call I had with my friend Maria, when she started talking about the people in our past.

"Dont tell anyone I'm telling you this...but David...Brenda is huge! She's gained a lot of weight. A lot. I used to think she was so pretty, and she was, remember? But now, Isabel says she's like a blob. A blob with beautiful hair."

and...

"Well, since Skye's birthday is coming up, Isabel wants to throw him a very special, very fabulous, and very chic party at Brenda's house. I never thought of Brenda's house as the place to be, but still, I told them you'd be my date."

There she was, talking about the past and the future, when all I wanted to do was talk about the present. I had called to ask how her finals had been and what she had been up to, not "who wore what?" and "who's a slut?". Not that I dont like a good juicy piece of gossip every once in a while, but that day, all I wanted to do was just talk to my friend about themselves. All Maria wanted to do was talk about everyone else but herself.

"Yeah...I dont think I'm gonna go. I dont wanna get...involved...with them, again," refering to the turbulant and destructive friendships that (I thought) we both shared and experienced with Brenda, Skye, and Isabel in the past. "Just seeing them again will reopen all those memories, you know?"

"What about what you said in Italy?" Maria said. "About, when bad things happen to friends, the good ones support each other but the great ones act as if nothing has happened?"

I knew what she was talking about. It was early Sunday morning and Maria and I were scheduled to appear, along with thousands of other travelers, before the Pope for Easter Sunday Mass. Just as we were about to leave, Maria asked me if I had taken 20 euros from her camera bag. I didnt, but Maria refused to believe me. I had no idea what she had done with her money and didnt even know where she kept it, but Maris insisted that I had taken it, since I was the only one in the room with her. I felt betrayed. Especially since my only friend in Italy would rather believe I was a liar and a theif who would take a measley 20 euro, then believe that I wouldnt. I had no proof I didnt take Maria's money, but I had hoped our years of friendship would be enough evidence to prove my innocence. It was upsetting and it made my very first visit with the Pope, a very disappointing one.

After surviving hours of cold wind and hard rain (or was it cold rain and hard wind?) we made our silent way back to the hotel, to discover an envelope from the maid, propped up on the goose feather pillows. Inside was a folded up 20 euro bill, the same bill that Maria had lost. I was relieved and angry at the same time. I couldnt even talk to Maria, or look at her for that matter. My head wanted me to say, "I'm so glad you found your money, because you just lost a friend," but my heart wouldnt let me, because I didnt want to say something I could never take back. We spent the rest of that rainy Sunday afternoon in complete solitude. Me in the plush, art deco lobby with a book and her in our hotel room with guilt. The next day, after the grey skies cleared, both literally and figuratively, Maria tried to bring up the subject once more, but I pretended to not know what she was talking about. That's when I said those famous last words: "The way I see it is good friends support each other after something bad has happened. Great friends act as if nothing happened."

And here she was, a couple months later, trying to use my words against me! But it made me think. If what I said was true, then maybe those people werent really my great friends. So why be around them? I then explained, that another reason I couldnt attend Skye's very special, very fabulous, very chic birthday party was because I would most likely be spending the month of June in New York. True story. Some family friends of ours have invited me to spend a month with them and their family and seriously, could I refuse such a generous offer?

"Seriously? David didnt you just come back from Italy?" Maria asked.

"Yeah..."

"And didnt you go to Kanye West's concert last month?"

"So?"

"Where are you getting all this money that you can just up and leave and go to different cities and concerts every couple of months?"

"Well, I'm learning how to save, for one thing. And I dont just get up and...

"Dont you know the country's going through a recession? Do you even know what that means? I'll tell you what it means. (Don't you just hate it, when people ask you a question they already have the answer to?) It means people arent making as much money as they should be and they should be saving it because they could be going poor in a couple of months. You're extravagant lifestyle is making people upset because you're making them think they need to spend money to have fun. This is why we need a woman president!"

Did I mention that Maria is over-the-moon gay for Hilary? And, of course, obviously, insane. I sat there, stunned, not knowing quite what to say. There are some notoriously bad things happening in the world. War, poverty, and starvation spring to mind, but I didnt think my "extravagant lifestyle" was one of them. Come to think of it, I didnt even think/know I had an extravagant lifestyle. (Of course, as I write this, I'm on my way to San Diego for the weekend, while my younger brother Caleb is on a plane across the Atlantic, headed to Europe with his senior class) But seriously, who are all these people I'm upsetting? If they only knew I have about $75 in my bank account and a $200-something phone bill on my desk. It's not living extravagantly. It's called living in my twenties, beyond my meager means and enjoying the present to the fullest.

What's the German word for feeling misfortune at someone else's pleasure?

happy birthday madelaine

Two weeks ago, my friend Madelaine and I were discussing her upcoming birthday nuptials. She was looking for a fantastic night on the town and I was looking for a chance to wear my new DKNY summer white jacket. So it seemed obvious that dinner should be held at the deliciously chic restaurant, Cafe Poca Cosa. Since I was already downtown, getting off of work, I offered to go in and make the reservation personally with Suzana Davila, the chef and owner of the restuarant. Suzana was happy to accomodate me and all my friends because of the simple fact that we attended happy hour religiously at her house of Mexican-fusion. It was perfect and within minutes, Madelaine sent out a mass text invite to 19 of her closest and dear friends.

Somwhere between two weeks ago and this past Saturday, my friend Hadassah invited me to attend the after party for the Arts for All Sweet Chairity Auction, held at Skyline Country Club, which was the same night as Madelaine's birthday dinner. It sounded like fun and since the after party didnt start until after Madelaine's dinner, I agreed to go. The very next day, my mother told me that my brother had finally decided he wanted to go fto Pinnacle Peak, an Old West Cowboy-themed restaurant, for his birthday dinner on (of all days!) May 10. Luckily, his party began two hours before Madelaine's and luckily, I was young enough to pull off an appearance at each event.

It was the night of all three events and I was ready by four in the afternoon, with my hair all slick and my shoes all shined. I arrived at Pinnacle Peak with my family, only to discover my mother had never made a reservation. And being that it was Mother's Day Weekend, we would have to wait for about an hour...and a half! I After about an hour of waiting in an old-fashioned Old West saloon, complete with coyboys in Converse serving beer from pitchers of plastic boots, I got a call from Cafe Poca Cosa, reminding me that if no one was at the restaurant by 7 PM, we would be charged a cancellation fee. So I left. I didnt have time to go back home to get my car, so I took a cab downtown.

With minutes to spare, I walked through the glass doors of the resturant and checked in with the hostess, who had a free pomogrante vodka martini waiting for me. I was the first to arrive and took a seat at the bar as I got ready to play host for my friend's birthday. The second guest to arrive was Hadassah, with both a gift for Madelaine and a gift for me! Hadassah's brother had recently graduated from Washington State University, with a major in psychology and was moving back home to Tucson. He spent the better part of last week on a road trip with his dad, as they drove from Washington with all his belongings, back to Tucson. Along the way, they stopped in San Francisco, where Hadassah's dad's cousin, Bev and her husband Greg lived and stayed with them for a couple of days. During their stay, Hadassah's brother noticed a really outrageous framed lithograph that was kept in a backroom and wondered why it was hidden and wasnt displayed openly in the house. That's when he found out how his family was a part of American music history.

Bev and Greg used to live in Hawaii during the 70s and early 80s. During that time they met a man named Mark at a party and fell in love with a certain lithograph hanging in his house. He was desperate to get rid of it and sold it to Bev and Greg for $8,000. The happy couple immeadiately purchased the lithograph and displayed it happily in their home...until they saw Mark in the news. Did I mention Mark's full name was Mark David Chapman? The man who killed John Lennon! Apparently, the $8,000 was used to purchase a plane ticket to New York and the rest...well, is American history. Bev and Greg dont like discussing "the piece of art that killed John Lennon", for obvious reasons, but seriously...what a way to find yourself in American history.

I couldnt believe the bomb Hadassah had dropped at the bar at Cafe Poca Cosa. I also couldnt believe that I was there for almost an hour and no one else had arrived. Where was everyone? I texted the birthday girl and found out she was still in hair and makeup and still hadnt found anything to wear. If making a late appearance was considered fashionable, then Madelaine was Prada. Soon after, a girl, whose name I still cant remember, arrived and then two more guests. They all thought the party was supposed to start later in the evening and were shocked to know they were late. In fact, some friends didnt even think the party was still happening when Madelaine jokingly said that her finals had taken a really big toll and that sleep was all she wanted to do. I didnt know what to do. I also didnt know what to say to the hostess or Suzana who kept asking us if the rest of the party would be arriving shortly. The VIP banquet room was still empty, since we were not allowed in until the entire party had arrived and the restaurant had to continue telling guests no room was available. I could tell they were upset and when I mentioned that the birthday girl had yet to make an appearance they laid down the law with me. Cancelling the VIP room without a 12 hour notice was a charge of $25 per person. For a party of 20, that was $500. And since I had made the reservation using my credit card...well, let's just say I literally fell out of my chair.

$500. $500. $500?!

Hadassah saw the blood in my face drain so fast, she immeadiately whispered in my ear, "David, take a deep breath. Like right now." I did, but that still didnt help the fact that I had just lost $500 in two seconds flat. It was a record, even for me. Not that I wasnt used to spending that much, but usually it takes me 10 seconds and usually its for myself. At that exact moment, Madelaine walked in with her new boyfriend at arm. She was on her phone, trying to do her best at damage control, and trying her best to avoid her mother, who had walked in when Suzana told me about the cancelation fee. Madelaine's mother was upset. Very upset. And the moment Madelaine got off her phone, her mother beraided her, telling her that the money she was giving her for her Memorial Weekend Vegas trip was being given to me at the end of the night. Great. What was I supposed to say? "Happy Birthday Maddie! Sorry about your Vegas trip, but thanks for paying me back!" I was literally sick. Hadassah had escaped to the bathroom to cancel our appearance at the after party and I needed to talk to somebody.

Hadassah was shocked I had bursted into the women's restroom and immeadiately told the girl at the sink to leave, as we were trying to have a very important conversation. I was drunk and I was freaking out. This was a horrible night that just couldnt be happening! I was totally out of the party mood so I decided to go home and kill myself. But Hadassah wouldnt let me. She kept telling me it wasnt my fault, and I knew it wasnt, it's just...I couldnt help but feel bad that I was taking Madelaine's Vegas money. I couldn't imagine what was going through Madelaine's head. No special birthday dress, half the birthday guest list was a no-show, a bill of $500 was looming over her head, and now her Memorial Weekend in Vegas was canceled. What a lot of information to absorb in just a few seconds.

Dinner was awkward and all I could do was drink. And think about the fact that I needed another one, very fast. Everyone tried to make the dinner conversation light and casual, but the big pink suede elephant standing in the middle of table made it that much more harder. After being fueled by Mexican-fusion food and mint-infused drinks, I was beginning to slowly accept my fate of having to be $500 poorer and killing Madelaine after cutting the birthday cake. Too bad blood ruins the taste of buttercream frosting. And just before falling deep into an emotional hole, Suzana came and pulled me out. Because of the simple fact that I attended happy hour religiously at her house of Mexican-fusion, Suzana waived the $500 fee "this one and only time". I wanted to jump up and give Suzana the biggest bear hug I could muster with all my drunken strength, but I was too woozy to actually stand up. So instead, I kept saying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" over and over again, hoping my relieved enthusiasm would show through my state of drunkeness. And that was how I celebrated my friend's birthday.

forgiveness

Like every other twenty-something living in Tucson, one eventually learns that life doesnt slow down. It's something that if you dont keep up with, you're left in the dust. And it's nice to know there are people out there like your friends who will help you if the dust gets in your eyes. Which explains why I havent been blogging for a while. So many things have gone since the last time I blogged.

I attended the birthday party of a local celebrity hair stylist and realized the fun and importance of living well beyond my meager means. Life's too short. So why not have a few bath towels and soaps printed up with your name on them? Of course, having your own personal supply of tuxedo shirts for the caterers isnt all that it's cracked up to be. There's some things in life that dont cost a thing and are equally as terrific and fun. Like participating in a state-wide "Rock, Paper, Scissors" Tournament or being able to rock out with Kanye West, ten feet away from him (thanks Madelaine)!

I've also been learning a lot about myself through the people I've been associating with; things I thought I already knew, but have to learn again. For example, just as my boss Alice was finally coming to the reality that she is now living the life of a single mother with a baby on the way and as her husband Azten sits and waits in prison, Alice's mother gave her the ultimate ultimatium: if and when Azten does get out, Alice was to choose between him and the rest of her family. Alice's mother was through with Azten. Enough was enough.

And though I believe one should never make someone choose between love and life, I think I may have to take sides with Alice's mother. Azten has hurt Alice too much. Just last year he was in court for a sex scandal and though he was proven innocent, it doesnt change the fact that he's put Alice through a lot of stress, a lot of hardships and a lot of turmoil. In fact, last Friday, I found out through a very reliable, but very discreet source that Azten has been having an affair with a single mother...and Alice knew all about it. Which then begs the question, just what kind of person is Alice to stay with someone who has caused her so much grief?

Dont get me wrong. I do understand the power and importance of forgiveness, but isnt the whole point of the matter to forgive and move on, not forgive and stay on? It's affecting the way I look at Alice. Everyday I see her, I lose a little more respect for her. How can I respect someone who cant respect, or for that matter, love, themself? And though it may seem like a sign for me to move on, my heart wont let me. With Alice's baby due in a mere matter of weeks and her personal struggle against the world, it just doesnt seem right for me to leave Alice in the dust. Maybe it is my responsibility and maybe it isnt, but I dont think I can just leave Alice as her world continues to shatter. Or can I?