Saturday, July 29, 2000

Dissonance of perception

Before, I had been certain I wanted him back in my life, but now that I had him back, I wasn't sure I liked the terms. The terms, of course, were his and while it was never said in so many words, it amounted to "I've alienated or used up all of my other friends. Now I'm back to you."

I began to wonder if I was being petty and selfish about being "the friend of last resort," or if, just maybe, this was the nature of real, abiding friendship, the person who'll be there for you when no one else will. All of this was complicated by the fact that I was still very much in love with him.

We had a tense dinner, at which not much was said. What was said was all wrong, I thought. Or, at least, my lines were deviating too wildly from the script. For three months, I had cast myself as the wounded bird, smiling bravely but barely concealing a deep pain. Now I was coming off self-assured and independent, happy -- hell, almost smug! What was that all about?!

Naturally, what was unsaid was just as important, and the thought hung heavily over the table. We would never again have the easy, loving rapport we had enjoyed just weeks ago. Never again. "From here on out," neither of us said, "things will never be the same." We -- I -- had gone too far. The emotional Rubicon had been crossed but not bridged. I waited hopefully, expectantly and ultimately alone on the other shore. It was becoming abundantly clear that he would not cross to join me.

The dinner ended -- the last glass of house wine, the final cigarette, and then a brief hug before we went our separate ways. Truly separate, for what felt like the first time and would likely be the first of many.

I have become aware that memory is very closely tied to perception, and in the telling of Rashomon that was our relationship, he and I had very different viewpoints and wildly divergent recollections of the same events. Moreso than lovers who differ in their accounts of a shared experience, we were both literally and figuratively living in different worlds.

To me, he was my lover -- in every way that mattered. To him, I was his friend -- in every way. Period.

That's a dissonance of perception that skews the truth into an unrecognizable thing, and that was the undoing of our relationship, whatever form it ever really took.