Limeade

These pieces were originally written for a performance series called "Working Through Stuff" at The Bull in Gainesville, Fla. The stuff I chose to work through involved processing Beyonce's "Lemonade" and my own experiences with other human beings at close distances.

For the first piece, "Mirror Syndrome," I asked the audience to fill in some blanks and we created a mad lib about mirroring. For this version, I've filled in the blanks myself.

The second piece, "Narcissism, U.S.A. Population: Me," reprises my Frankly Speaking essay structure to raise some questions about the role our sense of self plays in our relationships with others.

Mirror Syndrome

I run my hands along your shoulders.

You feel like that scrawny kid in the phys ed changing room.

You poke at my stomach flirtatiously.

I ramble off on a declaration of self-hate.

I listen to you while you tell me a story about this hilarious experience you had in Spain.

You concentrate on nailing that punch line.

You hold my gaze for four seconds, five seconds, your blue eyes two deep Atlantic Oceans.

I get suddenly overwhelmed with a suspicion that my facial expressions best resemble that of a bloodhound.

I knead and massage you as you bend over to tie your shoes.

You concentrate on the pop and release of the muscles on your shoulder blades

You lay behind me, holding me tight and singing along to my Prince record.

I just feel held.

Narcissism, U.S.A. Population: Me

How many conversations in our lives have gone like this?

“I had this really incredible experience yesterday.”

“Really? That’s so wild. You know, I had a really crazy experience yesterday myself.”

That back and forth ping-pong of the I,I….I, I is a hallmark of our generation – this generation of people who take selfies, who take gap years, who take personal branding classes. At what point does a fully formed sense of self become a full-blown case of narcissism? And how does this self-obsession affect the way we relate to others?

I’ll be the first to say it; I may be afflicted. I have very specific tastes and mannerisms. I hold my opinions and preferences to be superior, simply because I believe in them. I dance while looking at myself in the mirror for a couple minutes before I go out to pump myself up. I think of things I want to say next time I’m around someone. Not things I want to tell this one person in particular, but just stuff that I want to say out loud to a foreign pair of ears.

But this doesn’t mean my ears and eyes are completely closed. In fact, I pride myself on my ability to listen to others. But still I wonder, am I selectively listening, only hearing that which matches what I want and expect to hear?

I recently met a guy who told me about a dissociative experience he had getting high with someone he was seeing. He was staring up at this woman and he felt like he could suddenly see how she understood herself, and how she understood his role in her life. It all seemed too foreign to him.

“Our realities didn’t intersect,” he told me.

That got me to thinking – when we truly feel connected to another person, is it because, for that finite time, our projections are lining up with what the other person is presenting? And do our projections have the power to control what we perceive the other person to be presenting?

Now I’m no scientist, but the more people I meet, the more I notice this trend. It’s almost like we’re half-listening to each other, half-seeing each other. Our inner monologues don’t breathe enough for anything else to make it into our mental space sometimes.

And when we do notice something about another person that piques our interest, maybe it’s because that person reminds us of ourselves. That shared ground can create a feeling of comfort or home with someone. I remember being pleasantly surprised on a first date when we shared our first laugh and this same deep, almost maniacal chuckle came out of both of us.

It’s like we’re getting our egos massaged with each noticeable similarity, our preferences and choices and mannerisms receiving validation. But should the people around us merely serve as springboards on which to bounce ideas off of, the ones that stick around being the most receptive?

I imagine myself holding a mirror in front of a dude’s face, my ideal partner being someone who reflects back a familiar image. What would happen if my partner’s behavior didn’t match my expectations or projections? Would that feel like betrayal?

At some point, being with another person while holding that mirror up becomes a defense mechanism. If you’re always focused on yourself and your individual performance in a relationship, can you really allow someone to hurt you?

And what if that mirror is just reflecting back all your insecurities and fears? I once dated a guy who would stare at himself in my full-length mirror before we went out and he would ask me, Do I look ok? I would tell him every time, and I truly believed it, that he was the most beautiful man in this whole town. I would stare into his eyes and he would be staring back into mine but I don’t know if he ever heard me. I wanted to convince him, but if he didn’t believe it himself there was little I could do.

To play devil’s advocate, the alternative practiced by those few truly selfless and giving people in the world, is losing yourself completely and adopting the personality of your partner. Donning their face like a mask at bedtime, hearing their voice in your head when you’re in the shower, playing over and over the things they said until you can’t remember what else happened that day. That ain’t no way to live either.

The solution must be in striking a balance, finding a space where your projections can live side-by-side with reality. Maybe instead we hold the mirror to the side, and both parties are reflected, not always equally, but both of us flash in the mirror on occasion.

I think we can achieve this through mastering the art of active listening. We need to just ask the people around us questions, even if we can’t hear the answers at first. I think if we attempt to lose ourselves in the present moment and circumstances, we’ll find that our senses of self still grow and evolve, but they don’t prevent us from growing deep, meaningful love for everyone and everything around us.

You look into my eyes and tell me what you see.

I hear you.

Now we’re getting somewhere.