High Fidelity

September 22, 2003

The light from the Empire State Building reflects off the misty clouds and looks like fluorescent light behind frosted glass.

I sometimes imagine sitting on a fire escape or a rooftop and watching myself do the stupid things I do.

The other day, a girl told me I was complicated.

"It's what draws people to you," she said.

"Draws people to me?"

"Yeah."

"Is it also why you never return my phone calls?"

She didn't say.

I saw my ex tonight. She called and said she had some things to give me if I wanted them.

I should have said, No, but instead I said, Maybe.

I went to her apartment. a tiny box in a fancy neighborhood, to have a look. I rang the buzzer and walked up the stairs. She unlocked the door and opened it. I wasn’t expecting a guy to be sitting on the couch, varefoot, drinking a beer, and having a smoke.

"Is that your new boyfriend?" I said when he was out of earshot.

"I guess. It sorta seems that way."

He seemed nice enough —despite the vague story she glossed over about his jail time. But I still felt blindsided.

"Where are the things you wanted to give me?"

I barely recognized any of it. Context is everything. But I took a few things.

She offered me a drink and asked me to stay for a little while. They were watching "Sex and the City." I felt like I was living an episode. It became even more surreal when they told me how the show is filmed on their street, and the main character is supposed to live a few doors down.

"I’m not a fan," I said.

So they flipped the channel, and guess what else was on? High Fidelity. It was as if all the network executives had conspired to turn the screws. Watching High Fidelity with my ex would be messed up enough, but watching it with her new kinda-sorta-seems-that-way boyfriend would be completely off the charts.

It’s a pretty good movie, though. So I sat and watched for a little while. Like the girl says, I'm complicated.