She Drove up Two Hours to See Me
Hello my beautiful friend,
They say that when you have the urge to write, you write.
Lin-Manuel Miranda, the creator of the Broadway phenomenon Hamilton, was speaking at the Bronx Theater High School, when one of the students asked him:
”I know it took you six years to write "Hamilton". But I know as teenagers, if we're writing an essay and we have trouble, we’re like "oh my god, I just wanna give up!" Did you ever feel like that, like you wanted to give up?”
Miranda responded with, “all the time… but then you push through it.”
Then without a beat, he continued, “because what’s the alternative? You leave that idea stuck in your head forever?”
Then he tells the story about how he was on the L Train, headed to a friend’s birthday party, when suddenly out of nowhere he gets this idea in his head: we’re talking the second verse of some line in one of the Hamilton songs.
He begins jotting things down and he is in this flow.
Momentum flow.
He gets off the train.
He gets to his friend’s place.
The friend comes out.
Lin-Manuel Miranda looks straight into his friend’s face and says, “hey man, I love you. Happy Birthday. But I have to go and write.”
They hug. Miranda leaves the scene and he’s back on the train… writing.
“It’s like that, sometimes you have to drop everything when you have the urge to write. Friends will be back, they always come back. Ideas? Well they can’t stay stuck in your head because who knows when they’ll come back”
Now, writing this newsletter may not be as grandiose as writing Hamilton. But, I’ve dropped everything right now to write.
Meetings? Checked out.
Emails? Scheduled or Finished.
Editing? I’ve already hit 700k views for a client. I’m good for a bit.
Food? Nah.
Things that are due… but it can all be pushed aside for today.
I’m writing. I feel happy. I had therapy this morning.
I want to write to you, writing to you always feels so safe.
I hope you’re nestled nicely on your desk or reading this on your phone, maybe even reading and driving?!? Who knows. I just hope you’re comfortable.
Comfortable on a fucking Tuesday. (:
She Drove up Two Hours to See Me -
On Sunday, I threw a “Jonathan Cooks for Friends” gathering: a tiny little belated birthday gathering. I wanted to make it tiny and, by leaving it open from 1pm - 7pm, it was very clear on the flier that people would be coming and going.
“Do I bring anything?” Nope.
Did I rent the home out from my 52 year-old spiritual Moroccan chef friend? Yes.
Did I drop one of her knives and did parts of the knife chip away? Yes.
Did my anxiety compound when this happened? You fucking know it…
Anyway, I marinated 10 ribeye steaks in miso paste, rice wine vinegar, and sugar. I made homemade guacamole… we’re talking 21 avocados, two red minced-diced onions, three batches of chopped cilantro, 2 diced big celebrity tomatoes, several spices of serrano peppers, dashes of salt, and of course lime for taste.
On the side, put together a diced-shredded purple cabbage, with a sesame seed oil and red pepper flake garnish. Lastly, a mayonnaise with wasabi paste sauce. This would all be wrapped up with nice corn tortillas.
Yes, we’re talking, my classic “Wasabi Tacos”.
Because on the flier I told people not to tell me if they were coming, I was a tiny bit anxious that no one was going to show.
But they did… in six blocks.
Two at 2pm
Two at 3:30pm
Two at 5:15pm
One at 5:25pm
One at 5:40pm
Two at 6pm.
Everyone who was in LA at the time, who I wanted to showed up, showed up.
We had games and questions like “if you were a fruit right now, what would be your fruit?” “what’s one word to describe your year”
The fun thing about small gatherings where you can come in and out, is that everyone can hear each other speak and get to know each other.
The room could hold 40 people, but in this small gathering, there were never more than six people in that cozy, cottage-like dining/living room.
Intimacy.
Closeness.
Checking all boxes.
But the one I want to talk to you about is the one who arrived at 5:25pm.
We’ll call her “Sleepy Head” (SH)
She was a last minute addition to the invite list. The last time we saw each other in person was 8 months prior. And, the question I asked her was…
“SH what are we doing? what exactly is this?”
But besides all of that, I had to invite her because our mutual close friend, who was also going to the party, suggested I reach out to her:
“I haven’t seen her in two years Jonathan, and I know she has a soft spot for you. I want to catch up with her. Also, tell her I’m going, and I think she will go.”
And now here she was… standing in front of the door.
Learning later that she drove 2.5 hours from San Diego to be here.
Jonathan Gaurano in January of 2023 - just 8 months prior, would have taken off his cooking apron, fixed his hair, got chills in his heart, stumbled a bit, nervously puked, but today was different.
Today was different.
I wasn’t secretly without a home.
I wasn’t secretly hiding away my insecurities.
I was now in shape.
I wasn’t planning an imaginative scenario where I would grab her in some sort of romantic movie-like gesture.
I was present.
No expectations.
No longer obsessed with the idea of who she was and what we could become.
Just me.
Through the grated door, I could hear her laugh… oh that fucking laugh. One of those laughs that feel as if you’re being hugged. Her “hahaha” echoed through the door as the dog barked voraciously: the dog more anxious than me.
I opened the grated door and… there she stood.
Calming salmon colored pink sundress, with tiny little white flowers spruced about. Brown slip-on shoes. White cut off socks. And of course, that tiny little brown subtle headband.
Oh that tiny headband.
It resembled the same one she wore almost two years before, when she looked in my eyes on that San Francisco cold night and said: “Jonathan you’re the only person who makes me feel how I feel”.
The same day I lost it completely in front of her.
The day I would end up confused because here was someone who I respected, who I actually liked, who I thought the world of, who I cared for, who I loved talking to… telling me that she liked me too… in a way that was filled with poetry.
The day I was too nervous to kiss her how I kissed other girls. To be clear, that day I kissed her like a 6th grader wearing braces.
The day I rushed out of her home.
The day I then texted “fine… let’s give this a shot”.
The day when she responded, “I don’t know if that’s a good decision actually”.
The day that I would then proceed to ghost her for six months.
The typical pen-pal drama.
An essay text message to me…
An essay text message from me…
Silence from either side for months.
Then, back to conversations.
Then plan dates.
Then cancellations.
Then planned calls.
Then quick reschedules.
On and on and on and on…
I believe our last conversation about relationships was via a text message from her saying, “I can’t emotionally talk or see you right now. I’m just not in the emotional state to do so…”
And now.
Fuck.
Here she was…
Holding a “Happy Birthday” gift bag in hand: the only one of the guests to do so by the way. I could see seeping out of the bag, was a big bold white book. Oh my favorite.
How she knows I love good writing.
How I love good books.
“Wowwww. Is this who I think it is?”
“hahahah yes.”
“Oh the dog knows what’s up…”
“Jonathan, what? hahaha”
We hug.
“Come in, let me introduce you to everyone inside”
I cooked, I cleaned, I did my part as our mutual close friend and her were able to catch up from a distance. Then, right after our mutual friend left… I leaned in close into her ear, a whisper of a secret amongst my other friends… holding a cake in my hand.
“Question, when do you have to leave?”
“Jonathan my cutoff time is 8pm”
“Alright… I would to chit chat with you after this, you down?”
“I would like that Jonathan”
We played one last game, I wiped the table, and I said to everyone…
“It was a pleasure. Thank you for coming, I love you all so much.”
As my friends began to leave, I gave her that look.
She put on her coat.
I put on mine.
And we went on our little jaunt as the car doors behind us began to close. They were leaving, were staying, as we allowed the neighborhood to guide us around for a cool 30 minutes.
Intimacy -
I was going to say, “you know what’s strange about relationships” but instead, I’ll say this - you know what’s strange about intimacy…
It’s more than just timing.
It’s about honesty.
Yes, it’s about being honest with yourself: where you’re at financially, where you're at spiritually, where you’re at emotionally, where you know exactly what you want without ego or hiding any fucking fact about you.
It’s about standing up for yourself.
It’s not about need.
It’s not about desperation.
It’s about heart.
It’s about confidence.
It’s not about being perfect.
It’s about being vulnerable, but with purpose.
And then… it’s about understanding how to mesh all of this, with all of them, together.
When we first got together I wasn’t honest with myself. I didn’t even like who I was in any aspect as a man. I was filled with insecurity. And, I used my imaginative self to create stories of “who we could become” all through the lens of “make-believe”.
This may work well with flings and one time hookups.
Because it’s whatever. I have no emotional tie with these people… it’s easy to perform and make things happen when you don’t really care that much.
You have a fun time.
It’s great.
It’s pleasureable.
You learn things…
But in reality, there are no real consequences.
Kissing is kissing. Sex is sex. Whatever is whatever. Congrats! You’re doing this to me? and I’m doing this to you?
Again?
Is it consenting?
Yes? Cool. Thumbs up. We’re having fun.
High-Five.
But this doesn’t work with someone you want to be intimate with… not someone whose souls will collide in the bedroom. There are consequences now because you’re not just kissing or sleeping together. You’re doing something more.
I’ve had this before.
This feeling of intimacy.
Maroon 5’s song “This Love” plays in my head as I write this and think of the memories of this woman who I had intimacy with once. Anyway…
Intimacy.
It’s more than fun.
It’s founded in emotion.
This walk with SH was like old times, but new times without all the hidden shit tucked away somewhere… from both of us.
It seems we were in better areas of our lives.
I have a place now.
I have a bed.
I have a steady income.
I’m no longer gambling.
I’m continuing my passion.
I’m a little better well-balanced in my fucking head.
I have a therapist.
She’s moved to a new place.
She’s with a new job she actually likes…
She’s volunteering to something that is close to her passion.
She’s taking care of herself.
She has a better relationship with her family.
She lives 10 minutes from where I live now.
She has a therapist.
She’s safe.
It was… this word may not be big enough, but it’s so simple to say.
It was nice.
It was nice (:
“The energy of love and good people were so vibrant in that home Jonathan. It’s a good place to be, it’s a good place to be. Also you’re a great cook and host Jonathan.”
She’s the only person I know who likes to say my name over and over. It has this nice ring to it… and I love saying her name. It rolls of my tongue ever so smoothly.
You know the conversation is going well, when you can stop and she stops with you. You know it’s going well, when she doesn’t want to get into her car but she has to…
You know it’s going well when… you just fucking know.
Standing in the middle of the sidewalk just looking at you.
Hi.
Hello.
It’s said with our eyes.
After a few laughs… all we could do is hug.
“This was nice”
“I’ll let you know a couple of weeks. I’ll text you.”
Saw her get into her car.
Waved goodbye…
Oh SH. How I missed her.
-—
While back in the house, my 52 year-old Moroccan friend said, “Jonathan, why don’t you ask her out?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. But I do feel amazing with her… Anyway, I have a date that I need to go to right now.”
“Wait. Tonight? You have a date? Why?”
“I can’t obsess over one woman. Besides it’s just something. Ya know? It’s in me… I have to -”
“Is that a man thing?”
…
“By the way, I’m so sorry. But I messed up with one of your knives.”
“uh oh…”
“I chipped it…”
Thanks for listening as always.
Location: My desk - North Hollywood, California.