Thingness

-by Beau Burriola

"If That Thing hasn't happened by now, it's not going to happen," Sean voice advised into my cell phone.

"Thing? What thing?" I said, poking at my scrambled eggs in denial, holding the phone between my cheek and balancing a skillet.

"You know... that spark, when you just realize that this person is gonna be something more than a boy to drag to a baseball game." He was right. I'd thought about every word of it already in my head. Six baseball games, summer sailing, painting, a trip to the tulip festival- something should be sparking here.

"Yeah. But it's not like anything is wrong," I argued in vain, "I like being around him, we don't argue and nothing about him bothers me." The poor scrambled eggs were burning for all the grinding of the spatula. I channeled my anger into that sad frying, what might have been a baby chicken whose aborted life was SO unfair, just like this stupid 'Thing' thing. I turned off the stove. I'd eat oatmeal.

There comes a time in every doomed relationship when you just sort of realize it will be over before it ever really ends. There's something that makes you realize that its not going just as you planned and no matter how much you like the person or how much you try to change the situation, That Thing- that weird little spark, just never happens.

By all accounts, mine should have been a great relationship. We were both good people and got along nicely. We had a good time, learned a lot about each other and met each other's friends. He introduced me to the band-going, long-hair-growing, record-buying part of gay life and it was a nice little detour. Stuff grew on me like Tanya Donnelly, old comfy shirts and a growing concern over corporate greed and the environment. I even grew out a thin beard and walked into a thrift store for the first time. But for all these little explorations, there was something missing between us. There was never a warm fuzziness or some deeper Thing.

For months we went on dating, eyes and hearts open, both of us waiting for That Thing to happen.

"Like I said... if That Thing hasn't happened by now, it's not going to happen," Jason said into the phone.

"What? There's a time limit now? Who writes these rules?"

As I was now well aware, all of my friends were privy to the lack of 'Thingness' which everyone had pronounced on my relationship at least a month ago. I always thought we were just taking it slow. It always felt like we were just on the brink of something igniting; never let completely in but never let completely go.

Once I accepted that Thingness was destined to not happen, I committed to do something. Thingness, it seems, had taken a back seat to other happenings in our lives; work, travel, friends, work, gym-going, apartment hunting, American Idol, Pride… life. We were just too into our own separate lives and not enough into each other's to accommodate any huge changes.

It was a pleasant goodbye. There wasn't much fuss over any of it. I brought up the incurable lack of That Thing over a hand of Rummy, which I lost. When I left his apartment I felt meditative. The floaty walk home was a mix of sadness, enlightenment and thoughtfulness.

After that I noticed little signs from the universe that I had made the right decision: I saw a giant movie poster of the Thing in a vintage store with a bronze Virgin Mary staring up at it. I had breakfast with two friends of mine who had Thingness all over their relationship, reminding me what it's supposed to be like. Finally, I saw a homeless man holding a sign that said: 'Nothing is free.' As I walked by he pointed to it.

I smiled and nodded. "Oh, I've had enough thank you."