…the Start of Something(s) Big…

[I know this story starts and stops. I appreciate you hanging with me. It was so easy to write, until it wasn’t. I’m committed to pushing through and getting on with it.]

And so in comes 2014 with a kiss with a woman whom I’d had eyes on for quite awhile at the local health/tennis club. I didn’t have the guts to ask her out, fearing if she rejected me I’d have the repeated humiliation of seeing her any time I went to the club! I know, YOLO, right? Even better, we ended up making out on the dance floor at Fitzgerald’s. I’ve definitely had worse New Year’s Eves. We began dating shortly thereafter. 

It was an interesting relationship from the start. Let’s call her “Q”. Early on, Q indicated her preference for an “open relationship”. She was into me, however she wanted to keep her options open. And so could I (or so I thought). “What the hell?” I thought and I agreed, without a whole lot of consideration, to be honest. In hindsight, I probably thought took off some pressure off me to be her “everything”. So we began dating. And it was… electric! We could hardly keep our hands off each other. The sex (something sorely lacking in my life up to that point) was next level. In addition to mornings at the health club, Q worked a retail job, for which the hours changed weekly. It was ideal, as my schedule was “flexible” (aka “not very full”) and this gave us ample time to get together.

Q liked to tease me, always keeping me chasing her. She would pretend she wasn’t interested in me, especially when I saw her at the health club. At times she downright ignored me. In spite of because of this I was head over heals. We never really disagreed about anything, much less had a fight. Honestly, it was difficult to find time to fight, as we pretty much just had sex all the time. Oh, there was that little dustup when I reconnected and fooled around with an old girlfriend. (Cue the foreshadowing music…) At some point, the “L” word began to be exchanged. Oxytocin is truly a wonder drug!

I do remember what was the only time that I knew of that she went on another date. I recall thinking how mature I was and how far I had come that I was able to observe my jealous thoughts without reacting to them. Oh, Zen is me!

Outside of the bedroom, I continued my trudge up the invisible tennis performance ladder, playing 3-5 times per week. In early February I began weekly sessions with a personal trainer in order to really get into fighting form. I went from somebody who couldn’t jog around my block in 2007 to a complete workout freak. 

In fact, I almost forgot, in the winter of 2013, I went to Saddlebrook, a tennis camp north of Tampa, Florida. I had talked (fantasized) with the first woman I dated about going together, as she was quite a good player. Once again, in hindsight, I have no idea from where I pulled the funds to make that happen. I planned to attend for four days. This turned into five due to inclement weather up north resulting in many canceled flights, mine among them. For five hours a day, for five days in a row, I was out on the courts abusing my body doing drill after drill after drill. It was almost comical. In hindsight, t was also pretty damn lonely, as there weren’t a ton of people there and most of them were coupled up or with a group. So, every night I ate alone and went back to my room to pass out in my bed.

Q was (and remains) quite fit. She wasn’t a tennis player, however we worked out together occasionally. I recall one day when we both did a session with my trainer and he was pushing us. I was absolutely, positively not going to be outdone by my girlfriend. I pushed myself so hard, I broke something deep, deep inside me. I don’t know what it was – I heard it snap or pop or make some strange noise – most likely the noise your body makes when it has had enough of your abuse. Even she commented that I smelled funny after the workout. And I did. Holy shit. Ridiculous. If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger, right? I suppose, however, not necessarily right away. Just to make sure, one day that summer I jogged two miles from my house to the health club, did a full one hour workout, then jogged a mile to Core Power and endured a 60 minute hot yoga session and capped it off by jogging a mile and a half home. WTF? My diet, which shockingly had improved from my pre-tennis days, still consisted of lots of peanut butter sandwiches, sweetened yogurt, bananas, apples and multiple Clif Bars daily (PROTEIN!), not to mention plenty of chocolate and ice cream. Would the four people in the world who aren’t compelled to finish off the pint of Hagen Dazs once they are halfway through it, please raise their hand?

My work as a photographer was up and down. Thanks to my partner Steve, I had photographed several high profile events, including contributing to a book commemorating 100 years of Wrigley Field, numerous stints at shooting Nike’s flagship Michigan Ave store in the middle of the night as well as a Nike “Let’s Move” event with Michelle Obama, Serena Williams and a number of other star athletes. I was also flown to the Super Bowl to cover some experiential events for a client. The downside of the high profile events is that the pay is good, not great. It’s all about building the portfolio. And, in order for the portfolio to actually generate business, one has to market the portfolio. This is something I was only haltingly doing.

Also thanks to Steve, in late 2013 I met my current business partner, Johnny, at a shoot. I began hiring him to assist on jobs whenever possible in 2014. Steve and I formed “Headshot Gurus” in an attempt to grab some marketshare in that space, yet I never really did what needed to be done to make it happen. I was scared – of success. We did do some marketing and drove some business (~100 sessions over two years). It was never enough to justify the rent we were paying on the studio. I just pulled my 2014 tax return (that I filed in 2016 or 2017 – see THIS post for more background) and my AGI was $55k. Not a whole lot of dough. On the plus side, I was living rent and tax free in our old home, which was still making its way through the foreclosure process.

In early July, Q & I spent a magical three days at a house in Michigan. Around that time I met her three children and she was going to meet my daughters. Amy and I always had a rule that we had to be in a serious relationship for at least six months before any introductions to the children would be made. In early August we saw Leo Kottke, a favorite guitar player of mine since childhood, at City Winery. It was one of those surreal evenings where everything just seemed to flow. Although, I do still recall having a hard time sitting in the chair due the fact I had what felt like a lacrosse ball stuck in my right glute.

Aaaaaand, right on cue, the woman with whom I’d had the internet affair showed up again. Let’s call her “M”. I hadn’t spoken with her in several years after begging and pleading with her numerous times to get back together. I honestly don’t know who contacted whom. But I was in an open relationship, so it doesn’t really matter. Right? Wait, now I remember. “M” needed headshots for a new business she was launching and she wanted to come to Chicago so I could shoot them. Who was I to say no? After a couple conversations a date was agreed upon. Talk about being on top of the world! I was in an open relationship with an amazing woman AND I was going to spend the weekend with the love of my life from when I was 18! How could things get any better?

This is where things get a little fuzzy. I know I told Q that M was coming to town. I’m quite certain I told her that we would probably end up having sex and she did not object. There’s a chance I wasn’t this explicit and was expecting her to read between the lines. I honestly do not remember. End of August, M comes to town and we spend three incredible days together, during which time I did not talk to Q. Bad move(s). When I finally saw Q, her head was spinning around. She was bereft and fit to be tied. I had never even seen her 10% as angry. Again, I’m light on specific details as it felt like I was sucker punched and I pretty much went into shock. She said it was over between us. How could I do this to her, etc, etc, etc. Nothing I said mattered. It was as if I had gotten caught cheating on a spouse. In hindsight, I see how it all came undone; in the moment, I really felt blindsided. After all, we were in an open relationship! She saw (and had sex with) other people. Why the fuck couldn’t I? 

To top it all off, M, The Master Drama Generator, claimed she didn’t want to be involved with so much drama and really didn’t want to carry on a long distance relationship. She was out. So there I was, once again, alone with my thoughts….

(Please keep in mind as you read this, I’m not saying open relationships can never work. I will say that I think it takes a tremendous amount of concerted effort and exquisite communication between all parties involved, each of whom must be very very “whole and complete”. It is not for the faint-hearted nor those with unresolved childhood trauma. Trust me on this. Nor is it probably for those who are only seven or eight months into a relationship!)