reduction

I think I just figured out what I want in a relationship. I'm astounded! I have never known before. But this has been a year of revelations. So here it is. I can't believe it's so simple. I also can't believe it's so rare.

When I send you a text message at midnight saying, here I am at Bitterzoet, a fantastic club playing, once a month only, live Brazilian music, why don’t you join me? The correct answer is: I’m on my way.

The alternative correct answer is to save yourself ten euro cents and thirty seconds, and just to go get on your bike.

The incorrect answers include: I’m already home. It’s really cold out. That club has a cover. I have reading to do. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. There are many more incorrect answers than correct answers. That’s just how it is.

All of the incorrect answers are your right and privilege to give. I will not give you shit about them. I will not, as I might once have done, quietly wonder why I’m not worth it. And I will not, as I might once have done, hesitate the next time I feel likely to put myself out there. Because I already know that if I don’t ask, the response will be If you wanted me to join you, why didn’t you just ask? And I would be left thinking, Why can’t I win?

So fuck it. If my choices are between getting rejected and never opening my mouth in the first place, I’d rather get rejected. At least then I know that it’s you making the bad decision. At least then I realize that I am the person who understands that the opportunity to dance to live Brazilian music on a snowy Amsterdam night is the most fantastically unlikely and fabulous gift, that it is the product of cultural forces and climatic patterns and my own inexplicable physical existence, that such a thing is Never. Ever. to be taken for granted.

And I realize that the complacency of not wanting to get off the couch, the reluctance to experience ten minutes of cold on a beautiful night, the reservations about spending five euros for music when you’d spend it in a second on a beer, these are sins. And there it is. And I’m sorry if that sounds dramatic, but what the fuck else are we here for? What the fuck else is worth it besides snow and dancing and tasting beer and smoke on someone’s lips?

But instead of blaming either of us, I will just note that we are not a good match. This will confuse you but I will remind myself that repeating the same thing and expecting a different outcome is crazy. I will give you my silent and unnecessary blessing to sit on your couch, and then I will continue dancing. In ten minutes I will be receiving a lesson from a Brazilian named Fabio, who will conclude that I catch on quickly except my samba is a little hopeless. Fabio will say, In some places when they dance they think about other things, but in Brazil when we dance we think only of dancing. Maybe that is why Brazilians are so happy. Love is nice, but dancing is better.

(And eventually I will meet someone who not only answers but also sends text messages at midnight, and we will go to obscure concerts and we will take trains to nowhere and we will make big art. And until then I’ll just keep happily doing all this shit by myself, and I’ll keep being thankful to the Fabios I run into along the way who just want to dance for a few hours.)

I am not so old yet that sex should require negotiation and I am not so old yet that I have had enough walks through the snow and I am not so old yet that I need a good night's sleep, and may I never be.