When: A few years later…. (Spring of my second Senior year of college)
I hadn’t thought about Mr. Saturday Night much in the last year or so. I had moved on several times over, but every time I did think of him it was fondly. I always thought that if he hadn’t been such a dumbass, we would have made things work.
One day, right before finals, I found myself lost as usual in a classmate’s apartment complex in an attempt to borrow some notes. I was all hopped up on the adderall and I desperately needed a cigarette, but I couldn’t find a lighter to save my favorite dog’s life. I was crouching down on the poorly lit sidewalk, throwing crumpled notes and homework assignments left and right when I heard a voice.
“ahhhhh AHHHHH ahhhhh….” (The sound of angels)
“Hey do you need a light?“, a voice shouted.
I looked around but couldn’t see where the voice was coming from.
“I have a lighter right here if you need one.”
I looked around again and saw a tiny orange flame in the distance.
“Oh my LORD, thank you so much!”
I ran to meet the savior voice whose face I still could not see. He met me halfway, and as cheesy at it sounds, I swear to God the halfway point was directly under a street lamp that gave him a strange aurora around his face.
We both stopped dead in our tracks as we took in each other’s faces. We stood silent for a moment before we both started hugging and talking and asking each other questions.
Within a few days, we had picked up exactly where we had left off a few years back.
We started meeting up every few nights and got good and dirty on his mattress that sat on the floor in the room that he shared with another dude.
I still had feelings for the guy, but mostly, I had emotionally moved on. We still had a lot in common but at that point, it wasn’t enough anymore. He was still immature. He still talked more than I did. And he was still funnier than I was. He was also still going through his “wake and bake stage,” a stage that I was just getting over. As much as I wanted it to, I knew that at this point, it simply wouldn’t work.
I managed to slowly stop answering his late night phone calls, and slowly- I phased him out of my life.
A couple more years later…
I had taken a few months off of improv classes so that I could move to New York and teach dance for the summer. I decided when I returned, that since my previous class had progressed without me, that I would retake a level at my local comedy club so that I could brush up.
I walked into the class, and looked around trying to figure out if I knew anyone.
There he was, Mr. Saturday Night himself. His hair was as big as ever, and before I could even approach him I could hear him tell his peers that he knew me.
We didn’t talk much the first class, but afterwards he waited to talk to me. He told me that he had a serious girlfriend and that he was finally on track with school. I told about my summer in New York and that I was happy to see that he was still interested in comedy. He told me that I had inspired him to finally get involved.
Over the next few months, we became friends. We carpooled together to improv, singing loudly to Meatloaf and Tenacious D. We talked about our perspective relationships, and for the first time, I felt completely comfortable around him.
That summer he moved to Chicago. I took a local writing internship, but I knew that he would find a place for himself at Second City.
We wrote each other emails for a few months, but it wasn’t long before we lost touch.
One day, years later, I found his blog on Myspace and realized how much we still had in common. Even though we hadn’t talked in forever and we were a million miles away- we still had the same favorite movies and love for comedy.
And then few months ago…
I was pretending to be busy at work, with my Facebook page shrunk down to the size of a post it note- when a message popped up.
Well hello Mr. Saturday Night.
The feelings came back. For a few days we talked non-stop, catching up on life and comedy, and our careers. He was working in Chicago and still extremely involved in the comedy scene, and I felt strangely proud of his achievements. I still got a feeling that it was so amazing that someone could share so many of the same passions with me.
We even talked about our relationship and our sex-life. It felt comfortable, but that could have been because we had thousand of miles and a computer screen between us. He invited me to come and visit, said I had a place to stay anytime I wanted.
We still talk every once in a while. I doubt I’ll ever visit him specifically but I have been trying to plan a trip to Chi-town to see my cousin, so perhaps I shall call him.
This is a toughie. While I feel that I shouldn’t have fallen for someone so much like myself, I seem to have done that quite often since, and I’m not sure that’s something I can control. At the same time, I can’t base a relationship on shared passion. I love so many things, and I’m sure I would find it annoying if a prospective partner loved every thing that I loved. Furthermore, I have got to quit being so obsessive. It’s not good for any relationship, and it’s not good for myself.
I can’t be the only one who does this.
Call me crazy, but I feel like there is a chance that I haven’t heard the last of Mr. Saturday Night… I guess only time will tell. It always has before.