Tre Miller Rodriguez's Blog, page 65
April 27, 2015
What I’ve Learned About Unconditional Love from the Daughter I Placed for Adoption
Each time I approach an essay about my muse and biological daughter, Laurie, I wonder how I’ll find a new entry point into a story I’ve written dozens of times. But when I start reviewing our recent text thread and scrolling through photos of our latest adventures, an unexplored theme (or three) inevitably emerges. Every commission gives me permission to turn down life’s noise and re-experience Laurie’s first Facebook contact, our reunion and the nearly four years of landmark memories ever since.
With my fourth Mother’s Day in sight, my latest essay on adoption and non-traditional family trees just went live on Glamour.com….right in between “How to Wear a Fancy Ponytail” and “Now You Can Hashtag with Lipstick Emojis.” Which sounds not unlike some shit Laurie and I were texting about last week.
April 24, 2015
Heart-Shaped Friday Night (14th Street Station, NYC)
Heart-Shaped Friday Night (14th Street Station, NYC)
April 23, 2015
What Every Ex Wants to Hear
As it turns out, you can get closure and answers from 2011 on a random Thursday in 2015:
You weren’t crazy: I wasn’t honest with you about X and I’m sorry.
I think about you every day.
I was a coward who wasn’t ready to meet someone like you.
You deserved better.
Read your book. Saw your New York Times column. Watched all the TV videos with your daughter. So fucking proud of you.
I love you and want to wake up with you every day.
Oh, fuck me.
Actually don’t.
In fact, pardon me while I figure out how to resist the mouth saying these words because
if I don’t, I know what happens next.
Watch me retreat to the bathroom four times to process these phrases. Contextualize them. Remind myself how much alcohol is likely compelling them.
And when I come out and realize his promise to host me at his place is the empty kind, hear me call him out.
His response?
C’mon, let’s just get a hotel. Or go to your place.
Flashback to 2011.
And the gajillion times I caved.
Cut to me
in 2015, shaking my head.
I take no glee in leaving him on a Hell’s Kitchen sidewalk with his acoustic guitar on his back.
Watching him fumble with his phone to find another Thursday night plan.
Like our break-up three years ago, tonight’s choice is quite possibly one of easiest hard decisions I’ve ever made.
Portugal: The Redux
It ain’t the first drunk dial, but it’s the only one that’s ever happened when you’re in NYC and not fast asleep.
You haven’t seen him since the break-up three years ago.
You’re ignoring the implicit sexual expectation, but considering the invite because his place: you’ve never seen it.
You never understood why he stayed five nights a week at yours for three months without ever reciprocating. In hindsight, it seems ridiculously unacceptable but back then, it was a running joke between you two, which was a way of acknowledging the weirdness without ever confronting it.
And then you ended it abruptly through a frustrated, drunken text message without ever knowing what was up with his place.
And he let you go without a fight.
Your bitter, broken heart had a very active imagination
— did he have a second family? was he running a drug operation? fucking his boss?
— but now, your healed heart is just kinda curious.
Yes, you want a look at that apartment. But ultimately, you want a few honest answers to some past-tense questions.
Is today the day this actually happens?
Can you get your closure and flee before the first kiss or the third glass of wine?
Hoping like hell you’re not about to reverse three years of self-awareness, therapy and personal growth, you make a decision.
Yes, I’ll see you in an hour.
Stay tuned, lovers.
April 21, 2015
Following the Black Brick Hearts (NoLita, NYC)
Following the Black Brick Hearts (NoLita, NYC)
April 17, 2015
A dark, wine-out-your-nose-funny play with your two best gays +...
A dark, wine-out-your-nose-funny play with your two best gays + Bar Centrale afterward = A Night of Birthday-Shaped Perfection
April 12, 2015
My sibling isn't here anymore.
I am the youngest of three and the only girl.
That is how I have to phrase this description of my family. It is the only thing I’ve found that fits and feels right since one of my brothers died.
Sibling loss is one of those griefs we don’t really talk about. People don’t quite know how to talk to us after it comes out in conversation. We get asked how our parents or nieces & nephews or widowed in-laws are coping, but few people sit with us in our loss. Those that do are precious and appreciated beyond belief.
And on days like today, this National Sibling Day - which I swear didn’t used to be a thing, but maybe I only notice it now because it makes me sad - it feels like those of us who’ve lost a sibling are even more invisible.
Call your siblings. Tell them you love them. We’d give anything to do the same, so please do it in our stead.
You’re so right, maggiegetsamicroblog, and no, Sibling Day hasn’t always been a thing. For the past few years, I just stay the hell off social for the three days surrounding it. [Participating feels like I’m throwing myself a pity party, which is the opposite of what my bro was about.] I can only imagine how brutal the Hallmark holidays of May and June are for those who’ve lost a parent…sending all the advance empaths, guys.
April 6, 2015
What Year One Sounds Like
Some people read only printed books. Others are e-bookers. Whole separate category exists for those who listen to their books.
Fucking thrilled that my story just launched to that last, listening group.
While there’s neither a heart shape nor topless silhouette of me on this cover, the young actress who narrates the book is my vocal twin. Um, if I was trained to nail South African/Australian/Brazilian accents and could vary my pitch for male vs. female voices.
(For these reasons, I can nearly live with brunette Rapunzel on the cover.)
And if you happen to be an MP3-type of reader, here’s a sample.
April 1, 2015
Happy Heart-Shaped Fools Day (Chelsea, NYC)
Happy Heart-Shaped Fools Day (Chelsea, NYC)
March 21, 2015
Instead of reliving the funeral that took place six years ago...
Instead of reliving the funeral that took place six years ago today, I spent March 21st having coffee with a man, working out and binging on “Six Feet Under” in the name of dark-comedy research. Skipped the memory spin-cycle today because listening to my own audio book earlier this month was emotional carwash enough.
