We should make some time...

“A new way of existence? Maybe, but that’s a horrible thought” – shook her head a new friend of mine in a well-crafted response to my first blah-blogging I posted the other day. I was touched by her compelling case that people need to interact instead of competing for attention and friendship on the world wide web (talk about preaching to the choir!). Her epistle was so articulated that I really thought it should be posted…yeah… something like a blog, you know… [sic!].

Anyway, the competition for attention and friendship happens on and off the internet stage and I am not sure it’s necessarily something bad. “Flirting is fun”, casually commented another friend of mine in one of our spur-of-the-moment chats and I realized he couldn’t be more right: whether we take it in its classical meaning (which I guess contains some sexual, or at least some romantic substance), or in a more general, social sense, flirting is a form of human interaction. And I am certainly guilty of it, whether I am doing it consciously or not. You are too. And you like it too. Except when high expectations are set, and the response is not the one you wanted. That’s when we blame the flirting we just enjoyed and suddenly innocent games become broken contracts and failed promises. We forget that no one signed any contract, and no one made any promise. But we like certainties, forgetting that they also mean less freedom. I have learned and I am still learning to enjoy my freedom, and the lack of certainties. I have learned and I am still learning to take life minute by minute, and to enjoy it. I think I have also learned to love those who flirt with me, even if they do it with no promise, and I’ve learned to not ask them to sign the contract that I still tend to sign before they even ask me to. Why not stop drafting those contracts? Why not stop squinting to the fine print in an effort to discover every possible catch in there, and instead look the person in the eyes and see the "fine print" beyond them? And why not take a little risk and tell them what we saw, as wrong as we might be about it?

Somebody might have just taken a first step in doing that, with me.

This morning I went to school and checked, as always, my mailbox: the usual junk, lists with new publications that are supposed to make my teaching insightful (they think) but in fact with the potential of making it more boring (I think); a new issue of a journal that I am probably going to skim frustrated that I don’t have time to read everything but also thinking that time limit is a blessing (not all that stuff is worth reading); another letter tickling my ego by inviting me to apply for an academic job (professional flirt, if you want, so it felt good); and… a card. I am used to getting cards. In the US, people are very nice about giving cards to each other for any occasion, some really saying what they feel, others just contributing to a rather profitable industry. But this one was to be different. Very different! It’s squared - but I’ve seen that before. It’s artsy-modern, with no fancy pictures or design - just a simple text, printed unevenly on the cover. And before I even read that text, I rush to see what’s inside: who said what. But no one said anything. Blank. I turned it over: just the usual credits for the talented artist who created it. Turn again, nothing: just the original printed text. Did somebody drop this new, unwritten-unsigned card, by mistake, in my mailbox? Possibly. But, after reading what it said, I decided it was not a mistake.

So first you forget the rigid traditionalist notions of what is right and what is not – one of the best ways to get my attention, I’m already all eyes and ears! And then you simply say it: “I decided to tell you that I like you”. Forget the cold outside, it’s spring in my soul! I’m probably even ready to go home and groom, act pages, or whatever, but I do realize that this is just mother nature stimulated by the spring in my soul and that, in fact, all I need is to just do the little thing you ask for: make some time… Secluded beach would be perfect, but any other place would do. We could, for instance…

Wake up, Dan! All nice and sweet, but who’s “you”?

I turned the card again on all sides, checked again the folder for a note, nothing…

Hmm. I still hear in the background the little wicked devil of logic saying it could have been a mistake, but I’m already paying much more attention to the images of those that could have secretly tried to tell me something. And even if that card (received by mistake or not) was meant to tell me that someone likes me, it actually made me realize, in fact, how many people I like! I realized how lucky I am to have around people I would always want to rent a movie with, paint some pottery (or paint each other, in some cases), and… ok, what comes next is a bit x-rated the way I imagine it and it might not be appropriate for some audiences, so I’ll stop here. It’s not even important.

All I (and you) need to remember is this: perhaps we should make some time…