The Awesome Power of "Telling the Story"

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The comfort of strangers.

It's not what you think. It was really quite beautiful. It lasted one night. A couple of hours at the most.

No, I'm not dating, and didn't have a one-night stand. Just a wonderful sharing between two semi-strangers. This is how it went:

Amy and I went to the bar in Canmore on Saturday night for some good old-fashioned girl's night action. We ended up running into some of Amy's friends from her past life. One guy in particular stood out. I immediately like him.

I attempted conversation. "I'm an Occupational Therapist," and "I work at a hospital in Edmonton," seemed to be the only descriptions of myself that fit these days. All the while I'm thinking, "please don't ask me anymore questions."

We drank, we talked, and as the night when on, the inevitable happened. We started discussing relationships. At this point I took great interest in my nails and further examination of all the wrinkled spots on the back of my hand, wishing that I actually knew how to disappear. Then the dreaded questions:

"Sandy, do you have a boyfriend?"
"Nope, single" (what is that? A hangnail?)
"Really a girl as sweet and cute as you, single?"
"Yep," and in an attempt to change the subject, "You? Girlfriend?"
"Yes, but it is an awkward situation; Anyway, why are you single? At 28?"
Blood pressure rising. "It's an awkward situation,"
"What is it?"
(ohmigod) "Trust me, you don't want to know."
He pressed on. "No, I do, what is it?"
Deep breath: Inhale…thinking…exhale.
Curling my toes as hard as I can within my shoes and….
"It's awkward because my boyfriend died in June."

There. I said it. To a complete stranger no less.

I immediately felt like I jumped into a black hole. Pause.

Turns out, this guy is one of the most compassionate men in the black hole of awkward social interactions.

He wanted to know what happened. He asked. I told him. I even used Cam's name. He acknowledged, with great emotion, "your heart has been ripped out a broken." I cried. I told him, "I never thought I could love someone as much as I loved Cam," and that "I was going to marry Cam." He cried. He said "you loved him and he died." I nodded. "You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him and he died." I nodded.

He hugged me, a lot. It was wonderful. He wanted to know how I have been coping. I told him about my family, friends, counseling, acupuncture, journaling, and reading. I told him about my meditation retreat. I told him that what works for me is to be reclusive. I told him I like to spend time alone because having to interact with people reminds me how "their normalcy is hideous to me." (A quote, which I stole from a book, I read).

I confided in him that I felt silly because I had been looking for Cam all night long, at the same time fully understanding that he died, yet, searching anyway. I told him that "everywhere I look, what I see is NOT Cam, and I am start to wonder how on earth I will ever meet someone again." He reminded me that my "heart has been broken," and hugged me again. I told him "it's hard to live life as a 28year old in a society where so much emphasis is placed on being in a relationship." He hugged me again and said, "the last thing you need now is a relationship."

He told me his dad died two years ago. He was extremely close with his dad. I asked him, "what is your dad's name?" I sensed his shock, surprise and whole-hearted appreciation of my supporting that just because his dad died doesn't mean we can't talk about his personal details. Details that affirmed his life.

I told him it was so nice to be sharing my story with someone. It is nice to be telling the truth about my life, instead of answering every question so delicately, carefully, and falsely. It was nice to just get it out. The best part about the night is that that is all it was. There was no need to exchange numbers, write an email, or go for coffee. It was purely an "emotionally supportive one night stand." I spoke, I cried, I let someone hug me, and it was OK. I didn't lose control, I didn't scream, punch, or kick. I actually thoroughly enjoyed it.

Nearing the end of our conversation,he said,"I had no idea you were so C…."
"-Crazy?" I offered.
"No, Complex."