Friday, April 28, 2006

New Glasses!

“When’s your birthday?”

“January 18.” I paused so he could enter the numbers, but was instead confronted with a gasp of delight.

“I knew I loved you for a reason!” He grinned at me and clapped his hands once. We had met about 10 minutes before. “You’re a Capricorn!”

I giggled for a moment before asking his sign.

“I’m a Capricorn too! January 4! What’s your birth year, sweetheart?”

“1979.” I answered, still smiling until something occurred to me and my face fell. “Brent,” I asked seriously and he looked up at me in concern. “Are you younger than me?”

He looked down at the keyboard for a moment before smiling up at me again. “Just a little bit.” He showed me ‘a little bit’ with his index finger a mere inch from his thumb. “1982.”

I was debating telling him that I’m starting to have gray hair, when he started reassuring me that I was still very young. Had accomplished so much already!

“I’m not married.” I told him, still puzzling over the fact that he had 3 children delivered at a hospital we had earlier discussed – twins (boy and girl) and an older daughter – when I had been so certain he was gay. Do straight men wear pink plastic necklaces? He was just so flamboyant! And effeminate! But I adored him from the very first second, so if he was going to be straight, I was on board.

“I don’t have children. Am nowhere close to having them.” I confessed seriously, looking down at the frames lying on the table between us, pushing one away from the others because the dark purple color didn’t go with all the brown frames I liked.

“You’ll have them.” He told me. “And you’ll get married too. You’re adorable! So sweet and funny and cute! As soon as you said you liked the plastic frames better than wire, I knew you were fabulous!

"Plus, I didn't want to get married. We're much better friends since the divorce.”

So I smiled at him, knowing that my lack of sleep was making me mopey. It’s so much nicer to be cheerful, and at some point during my eye appointment and subsequent glasses-picking-out-edness, I had stopped faking it and my normal good nature had emerged. I was happy.

Brent stood behind me, tall, slender and quite handsome, and we would frown over frames as we discussed my house and his new condo. He and his boyfriend had recently moved in and were doing serious decorating.

We had narrowed it down to 4 choices, and had returned to one of the many mirrors along the side wall. I told him immediately upon meeting that I had a habit of picking the wrong frames. They looked good at the time, but then I got them home, and … eh. I just didn’t care for them.

Luckily, I had gone to LensCrafters to use my AAA discount. They have a 30 day guarantee – return or exchange.

“No. I’d feel badly if I picked something, committed to it, then returned it.” I told Brent when he first mentioned it.

“OK, look.” He said, picking up a trendy pair of Prada frames. “I’m having these made as sunglasses.”

“Sexy.” I nodded with approval.

“Exactly.” He said with a raised eyebrow and we nodded at each other for a moment before giggling together. He wrapped his arm around me. “I love these frames, honey. Love them. But if I take them home, and they don’t look right? I’m bringing them back. And if the next ones aren’t right, I’m bringing them back the next day. You don’t feel bad at all.” He ordered. “We’ll get you glasses that are perfect for your cute little self.”

I soaked up the attention, compliments and endearments like a flower in the sun. I needed to feel special. Realize that isolating myself from real-life friendships leaves me missing physical contact. I tend to touch people – sit a little too close, tuck my hand through someone’s arm, nudge affectionately. It’s been several weeks since I’ve been home; I’m friendly but professional at work – still finding my footing. I did hug a couple of the administrative staff after I brought them flowers upon submitting my grant. That was nice. But a prolonged period of pure affection? This was like an immediate entrance into a long-term friendship! No attraction - we both liked boys, after all. Just easy flirting, compliments, laughter.

We’d spent a good 90 minutes together – looking at frames, telling stories (he started being an optician after someone discovered him dancing on a bar during his bartending days. “I just love to have fun, you know?” he told me. “I don’t dance on bars, sweetheart.” I returned. “But I love that you do.”), filling out forms as we wittled down the pile of possible glasses.

Of the final 4, we each had a favorite. I liked a brown pair. He loved the purple. The shape was better, I admitted, but the color? Not for me. Struck by past failures – 3 pairs of glasses since age 16, none of which I would wear in public after choosing them - I hesitated over my decision.

“I should trust you.” I told him, agonizing as he looked over my shoulder and we both examined the frames. Brown, purple, brown, purple, brown, purple. “I want to like them, Brent! I just think the brown are better.” I chirped, resting them on my face again.

“You hate them.” I sighed, looking back at him in the mirror.

“No.” He said, drawing out the word, and wrinkling his nose. “I want to like them. I know you like them. But the other shape is so much better for you! How about if we order the purple frames in a brown color? Then I win on the shape and you win on the color?” After consulting the other 2 opticians – all agreeing the purple was a more flattering shape – I agreed, but found myself still clutching the brown frames.

Brent smiled indulgently when he saw them resting in my hands. “You should get them.” He said. “You’re more comfortable. You’ll wear them more.”

But my stomach clenched dramatically (because I’m nothing if not intense) when the purple frames were pushed aside.

“I could get them both!” I told him, knowing I now needed to bring 2 pairs of glasses home.

“You could.” He agreed. “Then if you hate one of them, you could bring them back – we could find something else.”

“I want both of them.” I said, pulling the purple frames closer so they rested closer to the brown I had placed carefully on the table.

“Should we order these in brown?” He asked because I had been so adamant about the color.

“No.” I said, protective of both now. “I think the purple is lovely now. I like it.”

“Good for you! I love the purple. It’s not obvious – but it’s adorable. Like you!”

So I have both, am thrilled with both. But guess which ones I’ve been wearing since I got home.

Yep – all purple all the time. The ones I would have been too uncomfortable with at first are now perfect. Initially scary – too trendy, too purple, too outside my comfort zone. Absolutely wonderful now – comfortable, offering crystal-clear vision, and they’re ever so adorable.

I left with Brent’s phone number – we’re getting together for lunch or drinks or a trip to the park. I made a friend! I got new glasses! Both are adorable.

Just like me.

5 comments:

EthidiumBromide said...

Oh boy. I just clicked on the 'grey hair' link and read that post from February. I know that feeling far too well of standing in the mirror wondering how it is possible to get so old, so fast as I pluck out the grey hairs, one by one, until twenty or thirty of them lay scattered in the trash can. And I'm only 22! And, just like you, have thus far been refusing to color my hair because I love the natural color (which happens to be very very very dark brown, making those pesky greys completly and totally obvious) and shine. And it's funny, because I'm the youngest of all the biomedical PhD students by far and a year or two younger than all my non-science friends... but most of the time, I just feel like I'm on the fast track to becoming geriatric. I, for one, am blaming the whole slew of newfound grey hairs on biochemistry!

EthidiumBromide said...

P.S. The new glasses are cute!

post-doc said...

Thanks!

I will blame anything and everything I can for the gray hair (which a friend suggested I call silvery since it sounds less old and more pretty). You, however, are young. So I'm not sure whether to sigh over being older than you, or be cheered that someone who is undeniably young also does the search and pluck routine against silvery strands. :)

I still gasp when I see them, especially at work where tweezers aren't available. It's hard with the dark hair, isn't it? When the little strands are so obvious? It really is a problem...

ScienceWoman said...

Good for you for going with the daring glasses. About a year ago I switched from contacts to glasses when I developed an astigmatism and the contacts starting making the world seem topsy turvy. The glasses I chose are completely frameless. Just little holes drilled in the lenses for the nosepiece and the side thingies. It's almost like not wearing classes when I look in the mirror. But now that summer and sunny weather is approaching, I need to buy prescription sunglasses. I hope I can be as brave as you.

post-doc said...

I was only brave for my new friend. :) I wore my contacts today so I could wear sunglasses on my walk, actually. I see terribly in them! It's so sad! So I'm hoping my new corrected contacts will be better. I'll let you know.

I didn't see any frameless lenses, but I'm all about the obvious plastic frames right now for some reason. Just FYI, I have my brown frames on right now so they don't feel too left out.

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