At risk of getting beaten to death after admitting this, I'll do it anyway:
Unlike many people I know, I wasn't very into How I Met Your Mother.
The series started during a stressful time in my life. 2005 was a year full of science... labs, reading, screaming, crying, and sleepless nights. I was also writing, and part of the contract was to not watch TV, so I would adhere to the rule... only breaking it to watch America's Next Top Model and my late-night "Nature" shows on PBS.
It wasn't until 2008 that I went ahead and watched HIMYM sporadically, at the insistence of JC. I became a little more consistent around 2012.
Last year, when I visited JC in San Francisco, I watched an entire season with him. We were supposed to go out to the city, and as we prepared our "light lunch" before heading out, he popped up his laptop on the kitchen counter and began season four. With our eyes glued to the computer screen, we ate lunch, washed our dishes, cooked dinner, ate dinner, and once again washed the dishes. By the time we took the second dish-washing break, it was so late, we decided to stay home and finish the marathon.
As we watched the episodes, I'd catch JC staring at my face, examining my reaction to certain scenes.
Me: Oh man... that was... oh damn.
JC: See, I told you it was addicting. This show's... in your words "that show's my shit!"
These last two seasons I watched regularly.
Two boys would constantly pop into my head. One guy would come to mind because... well, he's my Robin. The other boy is JC, because... was I... am I his Robin?
I have flashbacks to that strange encounter I had with him back in 2001. That summer afternoon where it was just him and me in the kitchen. He asked me for something to drink, and as I handed him a glass while opening the fridge, I asked him what he wanted.
JC: Give me whatever YOU want to give me.
I will never forget the look that 13 year old boy gave me... or the way he said "whatever you want to give me." So picaresque and at the same time so... shy? Like a boy caught in the middle of a dirty daydream of his teacher, by his teacher.
My 16 year old self was no smoother than my 29 year old self. I tensed up, forced a chuckle, and awkwardly said "Water. You need water."
Then I fast forward to the numerous moment I've shared with him while visiting the bay.
I'm especially tormented by the look he gave me the night he saw me laying on MGH's lap... the look of... he felt pity for me, for liking someone who didn't like me... but at the same time he was surprised to see me there... he looked sad. Sad, disgusted, disappointed, and angry.
Many times he'd get between MGH and me when we'd be sitting together on our drives around the bay area, or while dining out... or when I'd be giving a back massage to MGH.
When JC had my undivided attention? He'd stand taller, he'd smile at me, and he'd speak to me in a steady, kind voice. He'd hold eye-contact until I'd be forced to break it by looking at the floor.
I think to the times he'd randomly call me, wether he'd be in Berkley or Vegas, or Argentina... or Germany. His voicemails that are now lost... we're he'd sing me my birthday song.
I think of the look he gave me last summer when I missed that train to... that day where I was splayed on his floor, crying onto the hardwood floor of his apartment in a very foreign land. That was his second time seeing me cry over a boy, and that familiar look of heartbreak and anger was on his face. He felt sorry for me, but simultaneously wanted to slap me for being so stupid.
His words "If he really gave a shit, he would have made it up here," "If you mattered, that's what would have happened" "Eres una pendeja," reverberate in my head... will probably do so until the day I die.
That sorrowful, angry look of his will remain emblazoned in my mind.
Am I his Robin? Was I his Robin?
Unlike many people I know, I wasn't very into How I Met Your Mother.
The series started during a stressful time in my life. 2005 was a year full of science... labs, reading, screaming, crying, and sleepless nights. I was also writing, and part of the contract was to not watch TV, so I would adhere to the rule... only breaking it to watch America's Next Top Model and my late-night "Nature" shows on PBS.
It wasn't until 2008 that I went ahead and watched HIMYM sporadically, at the insistence of JC. I became a little more consistent around 2012.
Last year, when I visited JC in San Francisco, I watched an entire season with him. We were supposed to go out to the city, and as we prepared our "light lunch" before heading out, he popped up his laptop on the kitchen counter and began season four. With our eyes glued to the computer screen, we ate lunch, washed our dishes, cooked dinner, ate dinner, and once again washed the dishes. By the time we took the second dish-washing break, it was so late, we decided to stay home and finish the marathon.
As we watched the episodes, I'd catch JC staring at my face, examining my reaction to certain scenes.
Me: Oh man... that was... oh damn.
JC: See, I told you it was addicting. This show's... in your words "that show's my shit!"
These last two seasons I watched regularly.
Two boys would constantly pop into my head. One guy would come to mind because... well, he's my Robin. The other boy is JC, because... was I... am I his Robin?
I have flashbacks to that strange encounter I had with him back in 2001. That summer afternoon where it was just him and me in the kitchen. He asked me for something to drink, and as I handed him a glass while opening the fridge, I asked him what he wanted.
JC: Give me whatever YOU want to give me.
I will never forget the look that 13 year old boy gave me... or the way he said "whatever you want to give me." So picaresque and at the same time so... shy? Like a boy caught in the middle of a dirty daydream of his teacher, by his teacher.
My 16 year old self was no smoother than my 29 year old self. I tensed up, forced a chuckle, and awkwardly said "Water. You need water."
Then I fast forward to the numerous moment I've shared with him while visiting the bay.
I'm especially tormented by the look he gave me the night he saw me laying on MGH's lap... the look of... he felt pity for me, for liking someone who didn't like me... but at the same time he was surprised to see me there... he looked sad. Sad, disgusted, disappointed, and angry.
Many times he'd get between MGH and me when we'd be sitting together on our drives around the bay area, or while dining out... or when I'd be giving a back massage to MGH.
When JC had my undivided attention? He'd stand taller, he'd smile at me, and he'd speak to me in a steady, kind voice. He'd hold eye-contact until I'd be forced to break it by looking at the floor.
I think to the times he'd randomly call me, wether he'd be in Berkley or Vegas, or Argentina... or Germany. His voicemails that are now lost... we're he'd sing me my birthday song.
I think of the look he gave me last summer when I missed that train to... that day where I was splayed on his floor, crying onto the hardwood floor of his apartment in a very foreign land. That was his second time seeing me cry over a boy, and that familiar look of heartbreak and anger was on his face. He felt sorry for me, but simultaneously wanted to slap me for being so stupid.
His words "If he really gave a shit, he would have made it up here," "If you mattered, that's what would have happened" "Eres una pendeja," reverberate in my head... will probably do so until the day I die.
That sorrowful, angry look of his will remain emblazoned in my mind.
Am I his Robin? Was I his Robin?
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