A Good Time

I had forgotten until this morning that, my first night in Nashville, I went out to find a Starbucks to buy some Keurig pods, since my hotel room had one of those machines (which seem more and more common). I somehow spaced that you can go pretty much anywhere and find these pods and my forgetfulness around that led me to a gigantic mall. The Starbucks was a tiny kiosk in the mall, but they did have the pods. However, the trip to the mall was gut wrenching and awful. What hit me was seeing parents and their young children. Reminded by this of times with A's son and A, where we went out as a family, even to silly and grotesque places like malls. "The Three Amigos," A's son used to call us (it was one of his favorite movies). I got the hell out of there as quickly as possible and sat in my car in the vast parking lot and grieved. 

The next day, my friend and I were getting together, initially at my hotel room. We had flirted a couple times, widely separated in time, via Facebook messaging, and acknowledged an attraction to each other, but there was no clear agreement on what would happen sexually between the two of us during my visit. I was unsure what I was even capable of, given how wrecked my emotional landscape was. And she and I hadn't talked about the specifics of her partnership agreements in her poly life, so it was just an open question all around. 

She had forgotten about some pressing work she had to get done, so I had the next morning to myself. I searched the internet for "best breakfast in Nashville" and came up with Monelle's at the Manor. It did not disappoint-- family style, fixed price, course after course after course of real Southern cooking passed around. Biscuits, gravy, grits, bacon, sausage, pancakes, eggs, fried chicken, sweet cooked apples. The meal ticket there says "I've eaten and I can't get up," and that's fitting. I sampled everything (in spite of my usual "no consumption of mammals" rule) but didn't tuck in the way I could have. 

My friend came over to the hotel. We hung out in my room and got caught up. I had the strong feeling that what I wanted and what she wanted completely matched-- a comfortable, no expectation, no drama extended play date with no sex. It was a relief to get some clarity there and to let go into being shown around a new city by an expert. I appreciate now how clear things can be for me with women if I pay attention and trust my intuition. Maybe it's the reduction of testosterone poisoning, but I'm a lot less prone to trying to make something happen if it is not just naturally happening. And I so sincerely love this person that my top priority was simply to spend time with her, and, especially, not muck things up through anything complicated. I didn't visit with the hope of anything in particular. I was absolutely ill-suited to it anyway, and she was not interested. For one thing, her own attachments and poly arrangements were in a complex space, and that can be just enough as it is. 

Anyway, she showed me a good time. We met down by Titan Stadium and walked over the foot bridge to honky-tonk row on Broadway. As we crossed the bridge, the Nashville skyline glittering in the sunset and the Cumberland River laid out like glass, she told me about her work with various non-profits and orgs in Nashville. She slapped stickers on the steel girders of the bridge, each of which with a protest or progressive message. We talked about the intense racism in Nashville, how black citizens had marched along the river where all the bars line up and how white people had yelled slurs, threatened violence and hurled empty beer bottles. When we got to Broadway, it was a thronging crush of mostly drunk white people looking rabid. We searched high and low for a cigarette lighter for her, to no avail. 

Then we got the hell out of that weird sort of dangerous feeling scene. We went over to East Nashville for some of Nashville's signature dish, hot chicken, at Bolton's. I made the mistake of ordering it hot. They ain't playin! And I regularly eat very very hot Thai food. The spice on this friend chicken was incendiary. Even if you are used to hot food, I recommend medium. 

We made arrangements to reconvene at my hotel room, but she lost her phone and spent a frantic couple of hours looking for it. By the time she found it again (by some miracle), it was after midnight and I was on my way to sleep. 

The next day we met up again and in keeping with my obsession with the best local food, we met at a little shopping center in East Nashville where there was a remarkable bakery and amazing ice cream. So, basically, for brunch, I had two 100 layer donuts and some ice cream. It was interesting to note that my appetite was starting to come back. Through the anxiety and grief of the breakup, I had lost 17 pounds. It was also interesting to hear A's voice in my head, scolding me for eating so many carbs, disapproving of my food-related hedonism. Filed away and recognized, revealing and a reflection of my own codependency issues.

My friend gave me these:

A huge storm was coming in.

I had the evening free, so I went to the famous Loveless Cafe and had another very good Southern meal of fried catfish and hush puppies. So much great food!

Later that night, we went to hear her new boyfriend's band play original non-country goth-ish industrial techno. It was the perfect finish to a couple of days in a new city. My friend had been an excellent tour guide and great company. 

In the shop window of a store next to the club

I felt lucky, blessed. I met her new boyfriend and his other partner (the bassist in the band) and then I hugged my friend goodbye. Driving back to the hotel, I sent out openings of gratitude for the way I was moving through the world, grieving when it arose, open to new experiences but free of expectations.