Tag: Trifecta

Your car

~ Christi ~ 7 Comments

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Crossing the parking lot with you, I see it before I recognize it. I’m not a car girl, so it’s easily the oldest car that I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s rusty white.

You are beaming. This is your moment. A vintage ’66 Mustang and a date with your long-lost girl? What more could make your dreams come true?

You want me to get into this? I think. Is it safe? I wonder. I am so clueless on the coolness factor.

You, bursting, hold the door open for me, help me into the worn vinyl bucket seat. That old car smell, so evocative, sears into my memory. That smell, it’s you. The you who could be anything, the you who could do everything, the you that I knew so long ago and did not yet know.

To you, this is your moment in the sun. This is really, truly it for you. Your last first date. You are shining. And that car, that terrible, awful car, is everything to you. It tells your story writ large and symbolic. You’ve done it. You’re out, you’re free. You’re an adult, and this car proves it. And my existence here in your car proves it. So I settle into my bucket seat and hold on for the ride.

I have a new Twitter friend

~ Christi ~ 11 Comments

What do you call a friend on Twitter? I’m new to this, so I’m not sure. Is it a Twitterer?  A Tweetie? I have no idea. But I have one.

It’s a guy, and that’s a little bit of a problem for Geoff. But he’s dealing. This Twitter friend, Mr. P, he is a flirt. Which is nice for me, bad for Geoff. But he’s also got a few things in common with me. He’s a parent. He’s a writer. He’s a blogger. He’s going through some changes, too. So I feel like we have some common ground.

When you’re trying to reinvent yourself, you need someone to stamp their approval on you, to validate the new you. Now, this is a totally new concept to me. I’ve always  tried to avoid seeking approval from others. It usually leaves me wanting more. It makes me feel never quite good enough. I don’t expect a lot of compliments, and I can live with the knowledge that you might not agree with me, or even like me. But for some reason, I suddenly find myself needing to hear that I’m doing this right. Maybe that’s an effect of blogging, or it’s simply reflective of the change I’ve gone through lately. My identity is in flux and I seem have lost my own approval stamp.

Since Mr. P is just a Twitter friend, and because there’s no threat of running into him around the corner, I can be really honest in ways that I can’t with others. Well, honest up to 140 characters, anyway. And he’s pretty supportive for someone whom I don’t really know. He doesn’t judge, doesn’t make me feel like a freak for wanting to be different. It’s nice to have a Twitter groupie. You ought to give it a try.