Sour Grapes (C)

“Women are strange weird creatures.” Said the once-again-broken-hearted Kevin.
“You can say that again. They are inexplicably strange. ”. Coming from Alex, this was strange. Alex rarely if ever made a very committal statement about anything. I mean the guy did not even have a favorite basketball team..

Not that it is wrong or anything. While the rest of us spent hours arguing over the relative merits of the Mavs or the Heats in for the NBA games, he, a committed sports fan, would root for the better players. And he did know more about sport than any of us. And so most of the Dallas fans would actually let him expound Shaq’s techniques and the diehard Miami guys tolerated his views on why Nowitzki was so good. In short the guy was balanced. Reasonable.

Something that trickled down to his social life too. And Alex was popular with the ladies. There was nothing so special about him, in the looks department. I mean he was tall and well-built, but not remarkable or anything( I look better with my blonde careless hair and grey blue eyes- am more noticeable too), neither was he a charmer- no one ever saw him ooze charm to women. He was not into any of the things women are obsessed by- painting and poetry and pottery( or is it pilates now?). By all standards he was rather boring to women- a diehard sports fan who would not read to please a dying grandmother( I am being dramatic, but Alex did not please anybody- if it meant being someone other than himself). Still they flocked and stayed.

Everyone supposed it was because he listened carefully and reasonably. But it was not quite so. Now women, and trust me I have known a lot of them, don’t really like obvious fakeness. Listening carefully to conversations about weird things, nodding sagely at pauses, does not get you anywhere. What does is being yourself. Most guys( myself included) keep forgetting that and spend time doing something that looks made up. I mean one can and should be interested in the person, not in her interests. So we err by being too enthusiastic about the whole poetry-painting-pilates thing- and the lady we are with senses our intentions and clams up. Never so with Alex. He would talk about the person, to her about himself, with never a layer of anything else. And never appear too eager.

He also never talked about them. Wait that should be never expressed an opinion about them in general or in particular. Alex was not one of those who bad( or even good) mouthed a woman- or indeed anyone. He had friends. He hung around us so we were his friends ( I guess that’s how it works if you are normal) but he never ever told Kevin what he thought about me, or vice versa. And his women were as untouchable- for him. I mean we did mention the same ladies at times- in his presence too- you know general guy talk, but he would never proffer an opinion. It was never “Women get ahead by being sweet to their bosses”( this was Ray’s favorite line) nor “They are always playing these little games( our Casanova Kevin) nor even my own” Allie is so full of herself”. But he listened to us, never proffering an opinion on taking-a-stand topics- those apart from the general right or wrong.

“What happened?” I had time to kill. Besides this was THE Alex, revealing a side I had not seen.

At least I had waited, all agog for this side. I had hoped something of this sort of human frailty would come out when he had told me about her. Or rather told us all “I have been seeing a lot of Cheryl lately.” I had rolled my eyes, at that “Dating”. “ No just seeing her” She was so un-Alex. Or maybe she was un-us.

For one she was definitely notches higher than us on the intellect thing. This woman was doing a PhD on Black Holes( As a contrast Marilee whom I had dated, had actually thought they were some sort of show in the Grand Canyon.) And she wrote poetry. Nothing that rhymed. I read some of her stuff once. “Love unloved/ faith faithless” and more of such stuff. What on earth did they talk?

But this was Alex. And he never “made the moves”. Then we began to see them together. As in sitting over coffee at “our” Starbucks. Talking. She was animated, bright, used to gesticulate a lot. Shake her brown- sometimes very unkempt mane, side to side. Express strong opinions – how unlike him. Or he would talk, quietly, moderately, reasonably and she would listen. Of course we were introduced. “Cheryl meet the guys” sorts. And she did not go all out to be nice or gush( I have a personal distaste for all gushers- but they are at least making an effort to be liked. This lady was not) and it was clear she did not think too much about any of us. Nor of him either- or so it would appear to me, wasn’t Alex like us.

But she stayed on. It became a regular ritual. Never at the cost of his time with us. And he would talk to her a lot too. Alex worked in a regular 9 to 5 office, he had the time, but she, with her research on out of this world things, when did she make the time. Predictably he rarely spoke about her, except to say that he got along really well with her, she was interesting to talk to, spend time with and they communicated well( on what I wanted to ask, but politeness stopped me.)

And then suddenly it was “We communicate well, we have chemistry, but it cannot be. I told her” calm quiet and very composed. It was Kevin who choked on his beer and Ray unmannerly enough to ask “Why?”( With Alex that is the wrong thing to do. If he wants to tell you, he lets you know). Alex did not appear sad, nor in need of consolation. So I did not pursue it much. Though I did think he had possibly realized how unlike him she was.

And so the matter rested- or it appeared to. For a few months at least. He and I had gone bowling after work that evening. I have always considered Alex to be closest to me. And it did appear to be a reaffirmation of that thought, when he said “Cheryl has got a good job in Florida, a trainee in NASA. She is so happy about it. And she is seeing someone too.” I dropped the ball, nearly on my toe. Was there going to be more, maybe a burst of rage or regret or something, anything? But he continued in an even keel. Even won that day. So they were just friends, good friends. So much for the dating thing.
The middle of the year seems to pass so quickly. One minute it is May, then you are already in September, beating the rush for the Labor Day weekend. The four of us were not going to go anywhere near our cars that Saturday. Instead we rented a few movies, bought a few dozen six-packs of bud and settled down to a lovely lazy time playing poker. Ray was going on and on about his latest “babe”( trust Ray, I call my chicks by their names) Kevin was in love with a “very traditionalistic Asian woman( these were her very words) and I was between women. I do not know how the subject of Cheryl came up. I guess it was some rocket NASA was firing to join the International Space Centre. And so I just asked “What about Cheryl, Alex.” He took a deep swig of his beer. “She just stopped talking to me. She is seeing someone, you know”
“Ouch that hurts” who else but Ray.
“Man these American independent women” Kevin could afford being so anti-feminists.
Alex took another gulp. And with a “Lets concentrate on the game” refused to say any more. Clams could learn a few things from the guy.

And there the matter rested. Privately I sometimes wondered about Cheryl. She had not seemed so immature to give up a friendship with a man just because she was in love with someone else. But then women are strange exotic beings. One never knows what they think.

By January, I felt she was ancient history. But a “I talked to Cheryl for three hours last night” made me realize she apparently was not. Well maybe she had grown up at last. It made me feel good, it did. “Did she break up with her boyfriend” I wondered aloud. “No they are going strong”. Yes she was maturing. Funny that someone who was so into serious brain cell-involving study could have had the emotional make up of a 16 year old child. But she was a learner. My admiration for Alex increased.

And the talks continued. Now it became a “I am talking a lot to Cheryl these days”. Three hours, maybe four on the weekends. And Weekdays. Except sometimes. “You are free this weekend, not on the phone” I joked.
“Her boy friend is visiting. She has told me not to call when he is in town”
“And you agreed?”
“Well he is not so “grown-up “about the whole relationship, so why should my friendship affect our relationship”
Someone had some serious maturing to do.

By March the disease was incipient again. “I think I should fly down to Florida to meet her” Well it was getting serious. Ray, who had resigned himself to never understanding Alex’s strange life came up with a “Well just do it, dot talk to us, at least not to me about it” as the subject would waver between “Should I” and a “Well she is a friend, I must meet her” I suggested “Ask her to fly up and meet you one of these weekends” ( working of course on the assumption that if there was any real feeling on her side, which evidently there was, she did talk to him more than she did to that Mr. Jealous she was dating, she would want to. )

“She is very busy” what on earth did that mean? And so again the communication stopped. This as after a “Fine then do your work” and Alex banged down the phone. Most uncharacteristically.

I am not a perfect person, but I sure am loyal to my friends. She had been stringing him along, playing a double game, and my poor friend caught in that weird feminine mesh. Good for him, at last he was seeing how absolutely un-him she had been. Of course being fair, I would have definitely liked to give her some benefit of doubt. But this behavior was very very strange indeed. Alex, as always did not say anything a all about what he felt about the whole thing.

And now its nearly July. I wonder why we discuss women over soccer. Like today for instance. Why need we bother about them while we are dealing with the fate of the FIFA trophy- Argentina and Germany- wanting both sides to win. And bang I the middle of it, Kevin has his Sharon problem to talk about. I mean its alright, women are important and all, but in the middle of soccer, its sacrilege-( soccerilege maybe). And then Alex’s reaction. Sometimes you do wish you could tell your friends to bring their problems for later. I so wanted to savor the German victory in peace.

Cheryl, I am sure, again. And I am not very surprised why. “The only woman I can ever love” he had said a week back. What does she think about it? I wondered. “Well she said something about if only you had spoken, when the path was untaken” Poetry, to soothe a broken heart. “And then wondered about why I had not said so earlier, that she knew itr was coming”
“To which you replied?”
“That I did not know how she would take it. Anyway what kind of woman starts seeing someone only three weeks after an affair has got over”

Aha, so that was it. Well, I happen to know that Cheryl had been furious at the email Alex sent her. Yes, he had emailed to her saying they should remain “good friends” The “Am seeing someone else” had been a lie- the rage of a woman scorned- strange that it turned into a truth very soon- by Thanksgiving. Also that in December it was he who had got back in touch with her, to be “friends”.

How do I know? Well my girlfriend just happens to be in Florida, and there is this guy who refuses to let go of her. Probably he does not realize he never had her in the first place.