Emily

I've been writing a series of stories about the random people I met from the interwebs back in college. Some were from MySpace, some were from various Yahoo groups. There's one in particular I'm currently writing about who, every time I think about her, makes me a little sad. Her name was Emily*. She was a bit older than me- most of the people I met were, as I just seemed to have an easier time having conversations with older individuals (no offense to my peers, but most dudes either took conversation to mean flirting and most girls would freak out that another girl would want to talk to them about, you know, whatever).

Emily and I met in a Yahoo group and we’d started up an e-friendship where we’d talk every other day about the group and how hot the moderator was and a whole lot of whatever. Emily worked as as a computer tech in Maryland* who traveled often for her company and once, when she was flying into Chicago for a training seminar, she invited me to her hotel for dinner. As a broke college student, naturally I jumped at the opportunity to dine with a complete stranger. Also, she was staying at the Hilton hotel on Michigan Ave in downtown Chicago. Pretty swanky place (hey, I’m not above touristy lodgings), so the restaurant had to be equally impressive.

And it was.

We met on a Tuesday evening in the lobby, Emily appearing to be exactly as she described herself in the group: she was a short (about 5’1), full-figured blonde with an infectious smile. Dressed in her business clothes from the day, she gave me a rather warm hug before leading the way to the dining room. We made small talk: she asked me about my commute in from Naperville, I asked her about how she was liking Chicago so far and if she would get to do anything fun while she was in town. After we were seated, and I was reassured that I could order whatever I liked, she started discussing how, as much as she liked Chicago, she really missed her boyfriend. She then began to tell me a story that’s stuck with me for 10+yrs.

Emily was seeing a married man- who was also sick, sort of. He was slowly losing his eyesight, so in addition to the physical affair they shared, Emily also served as his nurse & caretaker- his own Clara Barton. Emily told me that caring for him was almost becoming her second full-time job. She wanted to feel bad about what she was doing, but she felt too connected to him because he needed her. She explained that despite his health, his wife didn’t realize that he still had other needs as well, and that’s where Emily came in. She discussed her frustration over the fact that he had made it clear that divorcing his wife was not an option, as she did still care for and love him when Emily wasn’t around; he couldn’t be that cruel to her. And yet, Emily couldn’t let go either. And it was driving her mad how much she actually loved everything about this man. She couldn’t wait to wrap up the trip so that she could start making plans to see him again. In an attempt to brighten the mood she talked about how, despite his failing eyesight, he was still adept at bondage and rope play and that’s one of the things that ties them together even more (pun very much intended by me).

On the whole, Emily seemed sad. But I couldn’t tell if it was because she had found the perfect man who could never 100% be hers, or if she felt defeated because she couldn’t break free from her feelings for him. She steered the conversation in a different direction afterwards, more cheerful conversation about our group, her travels, my relationship with Halbastram. The rest of the dinner went smoothly, although I never stopped thinking about everything she had told me.

After dinner she drove me up to Rogers Park to Halbastram’s apartment and gave me another warm hug, expressing how much she enjoyed meeting me and dinner and how she hopes to have better news for me when she returned to Maryland. And she drove off.

The last time I heard from Emily, she told me that her and the boyfriend were making plans to move in together, as she had finally convinced him to make their thing exclusive. She never mentioned “divorce” and I never asked. But she seemed very excited.

I never heard from her again after that. And I always wondered if it ever worked out in the end for her, in any regard: did he finally leave his wife completely and stay with Emily? did Emily finally break free from her feelings and find someone new? It’s bothered me for years that I never found closure on that story. I realize that feeling sympathy for “homewreckers” is an unpopular opinion, but Emily seemed like a genuinely nice, warm and loving person who just happened to find what she was looking for in an unavailable person.

Wherever you are, Emily, I hope you’re well. And happy.

*come on, man...you know the drill: all names changed

The No Judgement Zone

“I was pretty irresponsible back in the early MySpace days. I’m pretty sure that there are semi-nude pictures of me floating around somewhere out in cyberspace.”

“So, what was your MySpace profile name again?”

-A recent conversation with a friend
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MySpace was a pretty weird place for me. I met some interesting, normal people; some regular normal people; and some interesting abby-normal people. This blog will be about someone from the latter category.

One of the many groups I belonged to was a group for Chicagoans to talk about, well, Chicago...stuff. It really had no rhyme or reason except to serve as a platform for Chicagoans (and our suburban counterparts) to argue all day, everyday. Of the people I’ve connected with from the group, I’d only physically met two. One invited Halbastram & I to his birthday party on the northside; the other was interested in my friendship because we both shared an interest in being peculiar. And he knew that I operated under a “No Judgement” rule when we hung out, so he was more than welcome to be himself 100% around me.

Paul* was a tall drink of goofy-yet handsome- nerd with adorable quirks. He was a few years older than me- maybe 10- and worked as a reporter for a local Chicago news radio station (intentionally vague as fuck, as to protect his identity). I’m going to be honest: our correspondence started out of mutual attraction. But as I had just started dating Halbastram and was still gathering the feels for him, I didn’t want to mess things up by trying to pursue something with Paul. So we just settled into a comfortable e-friendship.

A month into our virtual friendship we finally made the decision to grab dinner together. After the success of that first dinner, Paul would regularly make the drive to Naperville following his radio shift (he worked overnights, so it was always pretty early in the morning) to have breakfast with me at Denny’s. Sometimes after breakfast we’d sit in my dorm while my roommate was out and discuss the Simpsons; other times he would ask me to paint his toenails (also while my roommate was out; he wasn’t exactly comfortable with her knowing his secrets). He didn’t mind driving out to see me and then ferrying me back to the city so that I could see Halbastram. He’d share gossip with me about Chicago media figures he’d met and worked with; I’d complain about how my college experience was largely unfulfilling. When I could manage it, I’d stay up and chat with him on Yahoo Instant Messenger during his shift and listen to his reports on the radio.

He basically came as close to my ideal male best friend as I would ever get.

I wish I could remember how or why exactly our friendship ended. We spent so much time talking and hanging out that it’s hard to believe that it only lasted a few months. Somewhere along the way, as I started to get more serious about Halbastram and more involved with school groups and my coursework, we just started losing touch. He stopped coming out to visit and we stopped chatting on the interwebs. I could go the conceited route and say that perhaps he wanted more out of the friendship than I was willing to give and so he backed off. Except he knew all about Halbastram and even talked about meeting him someday. He genuinely seemed okay about our relationship and gave no indication otherwise.

Last I checked (back in 2005...yikes), he still worked for the radio station. Maybe he met a girl (or guy) who lived closer and was cooler than me? Maybe I said or did something that offended him in some way? Who knows. But it’s become clear to me that our friendship, as short lived as it was, had a profound effect on me, as the general idea became the basis of the one and only novel I have ever completed.

Wherever you are, Paul, Tiny Elvis is thinking about you & those purple toes. And there’s always a spot for you in the No Judgement Zone.

*name as been changed because obviously.