Indecent Proposal

I love the movie an Indecent Proposal with Robert Redford, Demi Moore, and Woody Harrelson. Robert Redford’s character, absolutely enchanted, offers Woody Harrelson (a recently laid off architect) one million dollars for one night with his wife (Demi Moore).  They go through with the agreement because of their recent financial strife and it ruins their marriage.  After the couple splits, Robert Redford does everything he can to woo the newly single Demi Moore, and succeeds.  The audience doesn’t really know Robert Redford’s motives until the end of the film.  The twist at the end only solidifies Robert Redford’s character not only as an amazing man, but as an amazing person as well.  It’s the fairy tale story of a one night stand that turns into an incredible love affair with a tried and true gentleman.  I was hooked.  I watched the film three times and wanted nothing less than to find my own debonair multi-millionaire or at least something close to it.

I had never really put much thought into it until I met my best friend’s boyfriend’s friend (are you still with me?) from high school, an architect who lives in New York.  On our first meeting he was leaving to go back to NY in the morning and my friend insisted that I go out with them and have a few drinks.  So, being the adventurous person that I am, I did just that.  I think the architect and I had one very light hearted conversation about my Cuban roots, but most of it consisted of my giggling and drunken banter with my friend.  The evening came to a close and my friend drove me back to my car which was parked at her apartment.  

While we were en route she received a text from the architect.  Unbeknownst to him, I was the keeper of my friend’s cell phone since texting and driving is a big no no, and it was not my friend who was reading and replying to his text messages, but me.  He said that he liked me and wanted to ask me for an audience at a more intimate second location, but it would be awkward because we had only just met, etc.  He suggested that she suggest to me that he should meet me at my apartment.  We had already gotten to my car at that point, so I left the conversation open for her to finish, and headed home.  She then called me and asked me what I thought.  My thoughts were that nothing good happens after 11pm and it was already midnight, to wish the architect happy travels, and that I was going home to enjoy the fact that a guy was attracted to me and fall into bed.  And that is exactly what I did.  


The next day she informed me that she gave the architect my email address and I received an email that said meeting me was great and that if I was ever in New York we should definitely continue our conversation.  I replied with my phone number and with the lighthearted incentive that if he should ever think of something witty to text me, he should.  I guess whit was not one of his strong points because I heard nothing of the architect until months later when my friend informed me he was going to be in Los Angeles working on a project.  At the same time I got the opportunity to take a road trip to my home town with my friends E and D.  I made dinner plans with my friend as a send off for a trip she was taking with her boyfriend and as a last get-together before I went on hiatus.   

While driving to the restaurant my friend called and let me know that her boyfriend and the architect would be joining us.  My thoughts were: the more the merrier and I left things on a high and open note.  We sat together at the restaurant, taking advantage of the amazing happy hour, and talking about whatever young women find to talk about.  Her boyfriend and the architect eventually joined us where random conversation continued and I asked the architect about what he was doing with work.  I think perhaps two complete sentences were spoken between us.  We then moved the casual conversation to their apartment, where the architect was staying, and we all tiredly and awkwardly sat for about an hour.  My friend’s boyfriend asked me if I wanted to stay the night at their place because of the late hour, but I politely declined, citing that I had to get home to my cat (the single woman’s excuse).  I said goodbye and wished them all good luck and a safe trip.  

After two days of thought and angst over being the one to make the first move and realization that in a world with no dating rules, it doesn’t really matter, I emailed the architect about “hanging out” knowing that the worst I would receive was the single man’s excuse of:  I’m so busy, maybe next time.  He replied with a cheerful, “sure” and I was a young woman with a date for a date.  The plot thickens.  I only had two days left in town at this point, which left that night or the next day.  So we made plans for that night, however, because of his 16 hour work day and promise to have dinner with our friends, he wasn’t going to be able to do anything until after midnight.  I was once again left with my original dilemma that nothing good happens after 11pm, however, it had been intercepted by the thought that though nothing good happens, that doesn’t mean that something great couldn’t happen.  I was now a woman not only with a date, but with the fantasy that I was going to have the greatest guy-from-out-of-town rendezvous ever.  My roommate was on a trip so I had the apartment all to myself.  My friend, D, came over to boost my inner siren’s ego.  By dusk I was totally going to have the most amazing night ever, Indecent Proposal was fresh in my mind, and nothing was going to stop me.

2am and mid Return of the Jedi I was feeling a little less like Demi Moore being whisked away to a yacht and a little more like myself again.  The architect finally arrived, apologizing for it being so late. He was also going to have to drive our friends to the airport in three hours, so I gave him a tour, opened a bottle of wine, and we sat in my living room and talked.  One conversation led to another and he said that in the last hour he had been waiting for me to lead him to my bedroom.  Then one thing led to another and it was 5:30am and he was back at my front door and we were saying goodbye.  I went back to sleep and the next morning I was on the road and in El Paso by that evening.
 

I did not hear from the architect for a month and I realized my recent obsession with Indecent Proposal had led me to a rushed, faux romantic encounter.  The fantasy was that I was going to have this amazing evening and possibly a lover in a new city, but the reality was an uncomfortable night and a phone number in my contacts that I ended up deleting.  I knew that the architect was not going to be Robert Redford.  I also knew that this person was not going to be anything more than a possibility for a new friend or connection in a distant and interesting city.  What I did not think was that this situation was going to be the complete opposite of what I had in mind.  Not only had I not been able to produce a night which met my standards (fantasy or not), but now I was adding him to that mental list of men we women all keep fresh in our minds: the ones you never hear from again and just assume probably died.  

Indecent Proposal?  No.  An interesting yet common story?  Yes.  However, the guy is an architect, so maybe that puts me one step closer. 

Celebrating Your Independence

Today is the 4th of July or better known to Americans as Independence Day.  Because I was born in Canada and brought up by a Cuban father and Canadian mother, I've never quite been as patriotic as most Americans.  I never miss a chance to see amazing fireworks, eat red, white and blue cake, or drink to the beginning of the country I call home, however,  I don't quite celebrate with the same gusto as others.  This year I've decided to take a different view of this national holiday.  I'm celebrating my own independence.

Last fourth of July I was still technically living with my ex.  We had just broken up and my new living arrangements weren't going to take effect until August.  I decided to go to the neighbor's and celebrate by meeting a slew of happy party goers, eat hot dogs, and drink cheap beer.  After a fun evening and a fireworks show we watched from the corner of our street, I was aggressively pulled away from the group by my ex and questioned about what details I had told people about our break up.  Apparently a mutual friend of ours had texted him and berated him about a conversation I had with him the day before.  The evening definitely ended with a bang, but not the bang of fabulous fireworks that I had hoped for.  Instead I was forced to leave my apartment by an irate ex and ended up staying at friends' places for the rest of July.

It's been one year since that last encounter and my life has changed in so many positive ways.  I now live with a fabulous roommate in a great apartment.  I've become more of my own person than ever before and am a happier, more independent person.  I've been able to work solely on myself and only have my family and friends to worry about.  Instead of concentrating on why someone else isn't happy with me, I concentrate on whether I am happy with myself.  I am living my life the way that I want to live it.

Independence Day doesn't have to only be about the birth of a nation.  It can be about celebrating the independence that we find within ourselves.  The strength to make tough decisions and to grow is one that everyone should celebrate and I can't think of a better day to do so. 

Instant Gratification

I live in a world of instant gratification.  I turn on the TV and get over 500 channels and if I don't like what's playing on TV I can always hop onto Netflix and get a plethora of movies at my fingertips.  I text my friends and get immediate responses back.  I carry a phone with me at all times which gives me access to my email and the internet.  If I have a question, I don't think about it very long, I just google the answer.  I live a life of information overload that rewards me with the right answers pretty much 24/7.  As I'm writing this blog I'm simultaneously checking my facebook and looking up words in a thesaurus so that I don't repeat the word gratification too many times.

When does all this easy access technology not help me?  After a good first date.  Believe me, I want to put down the phone and be that all too elusive young woman, a mystery to be unfolded, but instead I end up straining to hear the all too elusive bubble pop noise my phone makes when it gets a text message.  My mind swirls with questions: Should I call first?  Should I wait a couple of days? Should I even say anything at all? And then of course I google those questions and end up scrolling the yahoo boards and their inane responses from 14-year-olds avoiding their math lectures (gurl if he be waitin' then don't be datin') and 40-year-old men that seem to have way too much time on their hands (I always send flowers immediately after a first date and possibly a lock of my hair).  I get so caught up in my split-second answer binge that I actually forget that the moments of uncertainty, quiet, and waiting are what make relationships into relationships.

Not many stories of romance or true love start with, "well, he blew up my phone all week and I knew it was love."  They start with hesitation and excitement for what may or may not come next.  If a man pays too much attention to me at the beginning of an affair, I'm supremely annoyed.  I instantly feel like this person has no respect for my time and thinks that it should be spent discussing how late he worked or why broccoli is not his favorite vegetable.  Well, I have news for you, I may be sitting in my pajamas on Friday night watching Indecent Proposal for the second time in a row, but I most certainly do not have time to text you back, "yeah, sucks to work late and I like broccoli but only with a lot of melted cheese."

Even though I love having all the answers all the time, I really don't want that from the beginning of what may or not be someone I'm willing to share a bathroom with.  The best part of falling in love is slowly finding out about someone and figuring out if they are someone you want to continue spending time with or want to avoid at all costs.   I want to be living each step of my life and be happy with it, not waiting for my phone to light up with Mr. Potential's number.  It doesn't mean I won't be happy to hear back about date number two, but it does mean that I won't be stressing if it never happens.  The old saying goes, good things happen two those who wait, or in my case, to she who has as much fun as possible and leaves the waiting to the people serving up her next mojito.