In answer, she pointed out that I might be painting a bigger than life portrait of myself for my friend. Over the past few months I’ve talked to Christy about many of the conversations C and I have had and I guess she had, without really thinking about it, been compiling a mental list. She started to tick off a list of the things she knew I’d talked about. In my many chats online I’ve mentioned to C that, among other things, I am: 6’7″, a pilot (who has crashed and walked away unscathed, no less), a scuba diver, a white water rafter, a caver, into martial arts, a security expert who speaks at conferences and whose job involves peripheral involvement with the FBI, a world traveler, a photographer and photography instructor, a God fearing, church going, loving husband and father who adores his wife, dotes on his kids and even cooks. I may, in fact, even be the world’s coolest dad since I went to great lengths to take my teenage daughter to a Coldplay concert and with amazing seats at that. And those are just the facts that sprang to mind immediately. I’m sure that, given a few minutes to think, I could double or triple the list.

It isn’t that I set out to portray myself in that light at all but I am an adventure junkie and, over the course of 40 years I’ve managed to do a number of interesting things. And, let’s be honest, those things are the ones that you tend to remember and, hence, talk about in the course of general conversation. All of those things are absolutely true but aggregately they paint an unrealistic picture. Especially when you factor in that some of them are strictly sporadic pursuits. I’ve only been in a few wild caves and only white water raft once or twice every couple of years. I haven’t been scuba diving in six years, and haven’t set foot in a dojo since I don’t know when. A very long time, to be sure. My crash wasn’t of the lawn dart like variety that springs to mind when one hears “plane crash.” Rather, it was a belly landing forced by a landing gear failure. Yes, it was a crash and yes, I did slide a couple thousand feet down a concrete runway with the metal belly of the plane acting as a poor substitute for wheels, and yes, it was both very exciting and terrifying and could have ended very differently, but it isn’t necessarily what it sounds like just the same.

Add to that the fact that people don’t tend to talk about their faults online. Heck, I don’t find many people eager to talk about them in real life either for that matter, and I’m no exception. But at least in real life you have the chance to observe them first hand and generally tend to pick up on the bad and good together over time. Rarely does the fact that you like kicking puppies pop up in the course of a normal conversation online. I’m not saying I like to kick puppies; I rather like puppies. I’m only trying to say that, if I did, it isn’t the sort of thing I’m likely to mention. If you were with me in person you would at least have a chance of seeing me do it. That’s all I’m sayin’.

Take the case of this particular friend. C has no way of knowing how I tend to leave stuff laying around and how, many times, I take an awfully long time to finish a project around the house and how completely nuts both of those things make my wife. She doesn’t see me on those days when work was rotten, bringing me home in a less than good mood and I am less involved or more terse with the kids that I otherwise would and should be. She doesn’t get to see the times when, in a disagreement, I respond to Christy sarcastically rather than maturely. She has no way of knowing that I am terminally afraid of doing things I am not good at, especially in front of other people. She doesn’t get the chance to see any of those oh so very fallible moments in my life that my other friends do.

She has no way of knowing that her dedication and devotion to her walk with God makes me feel more than a little ashamed of the level of dedication I’ve exhibited lately. She has no clue of the regrets I have over the missed opportunities to step up and be a truly good father or husband; those times when I was too busy or too tired or too self absorbed to pay the attention that I should have.

This only goes to reinforce the point I made in my very first post on this blog that in most cases you don’t really know the people you meet online. You see what they allow you to see and no more. It is a bit like a product demo. You only see the features of a product that the person demonstrating it chooses to show you, and they are only going to show the very best features. You don’t learn about the bugs and deficiencies that would drive you nuts unless you actually buy the product. Though in that original post I had intentional deception more in mind and, though this is nothing of the sort, the same supposition holds true to some degree.

Given enough time most people can discern character beyond what is overtly presented and I think C is certainly smart enough and a good enough read of people to at least suspect that I am not actually perfect. Yeah, I’m afraid its true. And, to be fair, I have told her things about me that aren’t part of an idealized tale of my life. I’ve told her some things about my first marriage and how badly it ended and I’ve talked a bit about my misspent youth. I’ve shared stray facts like that, but almost certainly less than I should have. When you get down to it I don’t know how well she truly knows the real me so, how can I expect her to have any idea. And that probably cuts both ways.

She and I have had a number of conversations around what constitutes true friendship and rather we qualify. We’ve discussed rather or not the time we’ve spent chatting is all wasted effort, running toward a dead end. My personal take is that it isn’t. I’ve mentally stopped making the distinction between her and ‘real life’ friends, rather the difference is on-line as opposed to off-line. Both are real life for me. I’m not sure what exactly comprises friendship because it isn’t something I decide intellectually or consciously, but I feel like I have found it in this instance. But, then, I have always been exceptionally good at reading people. I’ve met very, very few people that I didn’t have a distinct opinion of in the first five minutes of conversation and there have only been a couple of people ever to prove that initial opinion wrong. I’ve learned to trust my gut. How and why C arrives at a conclusion will only be revealed with time and even then, perhaps not to me. Either way, I consider her a friend, lack of details and all.

In the few days since I started writing this post I heard a quote about friendship that I especially liked. But more than that it amused me when I thought about it in the context of this post. The quote was “True friends are like angels; you don’t have to see them to know they are there.” I can’t help but wonder if that extends to those friends you’ve never actually seen at all. I mean, I’ve never seen my angels either. At least, not that I know of.

So I’m left to sit here and ponder the imponderable and will probably never get any closer to a conclusion than I am right now. Given that I have no choice in the matter I guess that I will just have to live with it. In the mean time, I’ll make an effort to share more of the real me, not just with C but with my off-line friends as well. In short, I will find a hanger and an open spot in my closet for the outfit with the cape. I think in the end it will work out better that way, and I suspect that I will feel better either way. Not being able to fly anymore is gonna take some getting used to, though. C’est la vie.

/g

Over the years I’ve traveled extensively for work and, like most business travel, it has been a largely solo activity. It has taken me to virtually every spot in the continental US big enough to warrant a Walmart and most of the larger cities many many times as well as to places off continent from Bermuda to Helsinki, Finland and many points between. Initially all the travel was a heady, exciting adventure. In fact, it still excites me on some level, just not like it once did. The whole truth, though, is that it can also be a very lonely existence and not just because I’m alone. Visiting cool new places or experiencing fun new things without someone to share it with is somehow inherently sad for me. I know there are people it doesn’t bother but I am a social creature and crave sharing the experience as much as or more than the experience itself. No matter how wonderful the place or activity I always find myself wishing for the company of a friend.

One of my favorite places in the world is San Francisco and within the San Francisco Bay area my favorite place is the Marin Headlands north of the Golden Gate Bridge. More specifically, the portions overlooking the bridge and, more specifically yet, at night. For me, at least, it is a magical place at night and, if you go late enough you can find spots in which you can be completely alone. Year round it is a little cool and there is almost always a strong breeze tousling your hair. You are nearly as high as the towers on the bridge and looking out through the cable suspension at the entire vista of the San Francisco skyline beyond. The blackness of the Pacific Ocean is felt more than seen as a palpable void to your right. You can’t help but feel the vast emptiness that stretches thousands of miles beyond the horizon. Something about that emptiness combined with the close yet seemingly unreachable companionship of the city gives me a sense of unparalleled solitude and the sheer scale of the entire scene serves as a powerful reminder of just how insignificant I really am.

But the thing is, that solitude extends only as far as earthly company is concerned. For me, at least, that separation from the rest of the world reminds me of how little all of the ‘stuff’ really matters and helps me gain perspective on what really does matter. Put another way, if you can’t hear God’s voice there you need to work on your listening skills. I’ve not found another place anywhere on the planet where I feel as at completely alone and completely not at the same time.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I have sat up there alone just looking out over the bridge and the city beyond while the hours rolled past unnoticed. I’ve found myself still sitting there as the sun broke over the Eastern horizon a few times, but I try to be packed up and gone by then as a rule. Something about leaving while it is still dark lets you carry a little of that wonderment away with you in a way you couldn’t by the light of day.

As amazing as that place is and as much as I want (or perhaps need) to be alone there, I still long to share the experience. In the time Christy and I have been together I’ve been there dozens of times without her but not once without wishing she were there beside me. Not once have I left there without a measure of sadness that I couldn’t share the experience with someone I love. The same is true rather I’ve been wandering the streets of Paris or walking a cornfield in Iowa. No matter how fun or amazing the experience, a part of me is left wanting for someone to share it with and saddened that I can’t carry that experience back to those I love.

As an avid photographer I carry my trusty Nikon with me as surrogate companionship. While being able to spend all the time I like trying to get a shot or sitting in one place for an hour waiting for the light to get just right is very nice, it really is a poor substitute for having someone to talk to. And, while I may have excellent shots of the trip years later, they are a poor substitute for being able to sit with someone and say ‘remember when’.

So I find myself wondering what do do now. Christy really isn’t into the whole skiing thing so this would be the perfect time to try it out, but there is just something depressing me about the thought of going it alone. The date for this trip hasn’t been settled so I have some time to decide, but I don’t know if I’ll be better able to decide later than I am now. Oh, well. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

/g