In Which She Goes On and On About HIM, Yet Again, What Else Did You Expect?

Scatterbrained. Lost in thought. Dreamy. Misty-eyed. A million miles away. All of these phrases could be used to describe myself as of late. Reconnecting with Andriy, anxiously awaiting replies, has rekindled the feelings I’ve felt and hidden for the past eight and a half years. It is not my intention to turn my blog into a shrine to this man. And yet… Yet, I am enjoying remembering the moments from his visit. As frustrating as it is that he is 5,000 miles away and we both take two weeks to reply to emails and I can’t touch him, hear his voice, share a funny story and hear his laughter/see his eyes sparkle, and share more moments with him, it is also pleasant to get lost in the memory of him. If there is someone to get hooked on, he’s a good one for me. I like sharing the stories about when he was here, I like thinking of him.

Not trying to bore anyone to death with my posting, I try not to write about him every night. It intrigues me that I can find so many stories about his visit when it was only 4 weeks long, but they are there, etched into my mind. I tried hard, made a conscious effort, of making each day special when he was here. I revisited his visit in my mind over and over once he was gone to be sure to remember it. If there is something I never want to forget, it is how I felt when he was here. To remember those feelings, I replay the events of that month in my mind and share those stories.

Sharing those stories – that’s where this blog gets to play a part. Tonight, I will write a few more down.

Every June, Fridley (my hometown) holds a festival called, “Fridley 49er Days.” The town was formed in 1949. To celebrate, the town has a carnival, a parade, beauty pageant, and street dances. If we had visitors during this time, we made sure to take them to the different events. Andriy (and Bob – the defector) were our guests for a few of these events. We went to the parade, finding a spot at the bottom of Commons Hill. The floats and cars went by – the boys all waved at the beauty queens after learning the specific wave used by pageant winners. Marching bands strolled past, sometimes giving us a tune as we watched clowns run up and down the street. In Minnesota, there is a group out of St. Paul called the “Vulcans.” This has nothing to do with Star Trek. This group visits parades and numerous events in Minnesota and Wisconsin. Here’s a link to their website. The main thing about this group is that when visiting parades, they used to (not sure if they can anymore – some rumor about legal battles) put black face paint on those standing by. Andriy was a “victim” of their fun and smiled quite big when he had a thick goatee painted on his face. There’s a picture. Really should scan that one of these days.

During 49er Days, we also went to the carnival. Here’s something you may or may not know about me (depending on how long you’ve been reading this site): I am deathly afraid of heights and do NOT like rollercoasters at all. That goes for Ferris Wheels and rickety contraptions that spin you in every direction known to man at great velocities while being suspended in the air. There is a ride common at county carnivals called the Zipper. I hate this thing. Hate. Utterly despise. Never could you get me on this. Unless of course you happened to be HIM. After the ride stopped (which he had quite a good time rocking the car more than the ride would typically rock it for my benefit – jerk!), I was ready to kiss the sticky, cruddy ground and he was laughing hysterically.

One of the things that I found attractive about Andriy, and actually most men, was the fact he wore glasses. I don’t know what it is, but I do enjoy it when men wear glasses. The ones he wore while visiting were pretty thick – it’s a heavy prescription. One morning, as I was getting ready to leave for work, he was at the kitchen table wearing his sunglasses and trying with all his might to get the tiny screw back into his glasses. He looked so lost. Being a “strong” man, he didn’t like to ask for help with this task, but also realized he had to. I was able to fix the frames quickly. That little moment is still in my memory.

It’s an odd experience to fall for someone who is living in your home. Intimacy is forced upon you and you see the side of people that they typically hide at first. We didn’t have close quarters, but he was there when I got home from work. He was there in the mornings. We were able to stay up late each night talking and there was more time to spend with each other since we were in the same house. Then there were moments where we’d both forget the other was in the same house. One morning, I awoke and got dressed before heading upstairs (my room was in the basement). I walk up a small flight of stairs to find Andriy ironing his blue jeans. That was adorable – I’ve never thought about ironing my blue jeans. I still don’t see the point, but there he was. His embarrassment was not caused by the fact he was ironing clothing that really doesn’t need ironing, but the fact that he was standing in his boxers. This memory is not etched in my mind because of his lack of clothing, but because of his conservative nature and shock being caught half dressed.

There are more stories, more moments that I want to capture and share. I have a list of things (notes to jog my own memory – although each story brings another one out of hiding – I think that’s the fun part for me) to write and will be doing so over the next week(s). I miss him. It hurts to miss him. But then, there is comfort in knowing that I did meet him. Hope eats at me and it is most likely a lost cause, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find happiness in the time I did share with him.