I was fresh in Los Angeles when I developed a semi-huge crush on this semi-huge starlet I knew from Equinox. At the time, we had been making small talk for a couple weeks - something reasonable people might refer to as rapport. Also, we shared a trainer who went out of his way to tell me she was single and that I should do something about it. I was young, owned my still invincible ego and had yet to understand that only creeps (guys or dolls) try to make pick-ups at the gym.
One day, I stopped her. I had scratched my info on an Equinox comment card (yeah, I know), handed it off and told her to give me a call sometime, that I'd love to talk. Of course, it didn't come out exactly that tight and/or succinct. I stumbled a bit, maybe a bunch. She spoke of a boyfriend and of their monogamy and I played the whole situation as if we were dishing words on weather. Her practice of letting down potential suitors was sharp, and she operated her practice with grace to spare. Sometime in the next week, after I had spent a week in my head, I deemed the original encounter to be an uncomfortable disaster. The next time we passed, we made quick eyes and she gifted me a floating smile. Instead of reciprocating, my eyes shot off her course, as if a person could even be capable of missing an offering so kind. Because of my move, we passed that day without exchange, would continue to pass without exchange...
About a year later, when I was standing in line at Whole Foods, I saw her on the cover of a bridal magazine. She was set to marry the boyfriend. A year after that, I ran into her at my Gelson's. It was late at night and we were shopping for the same thing, both of us knowing exactly who the other person was, exactly where the other person was. At this point, we had been strangers for some time, had passed several times around town, each time having to deal with ignoring each other and the exponentially growing awkwardness that I had created -- all because of my look-off.
I can laugh about all of this because it's in my past, because that's what I do to measure or come to terms with my growth or the illusion of my growth. Sometime in the last year or so, she must've moved into the neighborhood because she's always around, always where I happen to be. Recently, her face has been on billboards all over town, that floating smile hyping a movie she was helping to open. Over the weekend, that billboarded movie had the biggest April opening ever.
There's a great word called omnipresence. I've always had a lot of respect for it, for its sound and formation. It means something is everywhere at all times. Lately the beautiful reminder of my distant and childish behavior has been exactly that, omnipresent. There's another word called inescapable. It's much less respected, I think, because everyone knows exactly what it means. In this context, they're equally powerful. Sometimes, I opt to believe that my long ago indiscretions are exactly that, long ago, as if time and distance offer automatic voids on any person or subject of my choosing. Anyone who's honest with themselves knows that's not honest. I began to think that maybe I hadn't come as far from my past as I opted to believe. Sometimes, certain holes, insignificant as they may be, feel too deep to dig out of.
Yesterday, I saw her at Gelson's. I was walking out and she was walking in. I said hello. She smiled, said it back. You know what it takes to erase 4 years of awkward passes? That. Imagine.
