Jamie’s Story

During this very strange and challenging time of social distancing, in the hopes to slow the pandemic from spreading and creating further chaos, it’s hard to notice emotions other than anxiety, fear, and frustration. I have been glued to my phone, reading everything from the latest news about Covid-19 locally and globally, to ways to homeschool effectively, to how not to murder the people you love during a self-quarantine. And we have only gotten through the first week! It’s been rough, wondering if I’m doing enough academics for the kids, wondering if we’re being quiet enough so Jamie could work from home, wondering how much weight I’m going to gain as I eat my feelings. And truthfully, as a stay-at-home mom, I’m also a little bitter that these three have encroached upon my office space, taking my organized chaos and creating a straight up shit storm.

For me, it’s actually easy to focus on those negative things because I’m naturally a pretty negative person; negative feelings to me are like a warm blanket (unknowingly filled with bed bugs). So I challenged myself to get out of that head space because in the midsts of all these hectic whatifs, there is also cause for celebration. My dude. Jamie recently turned 40-something, and we must celebrate with a feel-good story. My kids have been asking if I’ll be writing Jamie’s birthday story, as I did theirs. But it’s not really my story to tell, as my vagina did not play a significant role in his life story until way later. I don’t even know his birth story, other than I believe he was premature, which was probably the last time he arrived early to an event. So let me tell a story that I do know, the birth of us.

Jamie was one of my brother’s close friends in college. We called him the token white guy, as the majority of his friends were Asian. He definitely had an affinity towards Asian women, so I am sad to say it wasn’t my winning personality that drew him towards me, it was my brown ass. I wonder if this hanging out with a bunch of Asian dudes was his way of attracting Asian women, standing out like a beacon of light (he is a very pale guy). I don’t actually remember exactly when I met him, sometime in the late 90’s, and likely under the pretenses of inebriation. Besides Kuya’s white friend, I coined him as being the smart, cute, and sensitive one. Again, I was drunk, so I have no idea what made me think that. But it was true.

Years went by, and he was always interwoven in so many of my college memories, as he would often accompany Kuya to Marquette to party with me and my friends. He was even at my sister’s wedding, as my sister told my brother to bring all his college friends to the reception to clean out the open bar. I was always attracted to him, but my brother made it clear to both me and all his guy friends that no friends of his were allowed to date his sister. Our interactions with each other were minimally flirty, mostly just innocent and friendly. Since I couldn’t be with him, but I knew he was a good catch, I even set him up with my friends twice (I know, pretty twisted). Clearly I was the less selfish one because he never tried to set me up with anyone. And there we were, in each other’s backgrounds, throughout different relationships with other people, during important life events, not even knowing that someday we’d be each other’s main characters.

I remember having a going-away party in Chicago before moving to Arizona in 2003. He told me that night that he was genuinely sad that I was leaving, and I was really confused and asked why. He told me it was just nice to know I was around, and now I won’t be. And my response was probably, “Ok nice, let’s do a shot then!” I really didn’t think anything of it because I was young and about to start a new life adventure. Once I got my career started in Arizona and settled into my new place, my brother and his friends (Jamie included) came out to visit me for a long weekend in September 2004. We hung out by the pool, went hiking and to a bunch of bars, and I once again tried to set him up with one of my friends (hook up by association perhaps?). I introduced them to a guy that I was dating at the time, and Jamie adamantly said that he did not like the guy and he wasn’t good enough for me, even though he didn’t speak a word to him. Our friend, Darlene, was more on my page and thought he was pretty hot. While Jamie, Darlene, and I sat by the pool drinking, she said, “So that’s your type, huh?” And I responded, “No, Jamie is actually my type, but I can’t do anything about that.” Jamie shrugged his shoulders at me and said, “Yeah me too, but it’s against the rules.” Darlene told us to forget about my brother and just go for it, but we both said no and changed the subject. The night before they went back home to Chicago, Jamie and I sat on my balcony and just talked, nothing serious, really just enjoying a nice night as we sobered up. It had a bit of a melancholy feel because I knew they were leaving the next day. The following day came too soon, and there I was dropping them off at the airport. We all said our goodbyes, and I had a pit in my stomach. Jamie, in total Jamie rom-com fashion, did a last minute turn back and look and gave me a sad smile goodbye before he went into the airport. I cried for an hour at work, thinking at the time that it was just homesickness, but I realize now that it was more. I found out later that Darlene and Jamie talked about our little conversation at the pool a little more while on the plane ride back. She tried to convince him to go for me and that my brother would understand, but Jamie didn’t want to risk messing his friendship up with Kuya. With time and space, we both moved on.

Despite my frequent trips home, I didn’t bump into Jamie at all for two years. It was as if that little confession of feelings never happened. It wouldn’t be until my brother’s wedding in May 2006 that we would see each other again. A few months before the wedding, my friends and I had gotten our fortunes told just for fun. During my fortune telling, I was told many vague things that I eagerly ate up like a fool. But there was one specific detail that stuck out that I chose to hold onto tightly for some reason. She told me that the guy I was seeing at the time was not “The One,” and that something on May 25th happens that significantly changes our relationship, and we would eventually break up. It got me all curious because I knew that May 25th was my brother’s wedding weekend and I would be back in Chicago. A few weeks after my fortune telling, my dad tells me that my godmother wants to set me up with this engineer at their firm. She’s a pretty hip lady and has kids my age, so I felt like I was in good hands. She gave me this guy’s name and email address, and we started emailing each other. And let me tell you, when he said that his favorite book was the Bible and that he didn’t drink, red flags flew all around me. He would have thought I was Satan’s spawn for sure. Then my friend, Tina, looked him up on MySpace (yes, it was that long ago), and she would not stop laughing for a straight 10 minutes. Now listen, we’re not superficial people, well maybe a little, but this guy could not be further from my type. I’m sure he was a nice guy, but with the over-the-top enginerdy vibe mixed with no alcohol, there would be no way I could get through a date with him. At the same time, though, my godmother was really trying to set up a good time for us to meet, and well, it happened to be the weekend of my brother’s wedding. So I assumed meeting this guy was that “significant event” the fortune teller was predicting to happen on May 25th. I was like, “What the fuck, Universe, this guy? What lesson are you teaching me now?” Since it was in the cards, like literally in the tarot cards, I was convinced that I had to give this guy an honest chance. So I forced a few more emails, and each one that I read from him made me think I was destined for the most boring life ever imagined. It was like God was telling me, “Hey, remember all those bars you danced on top of? Yeah, now you pay. Enjoy reading the Bible and drinking your O’Doul’s.” With Tina’s steady laughter in the background for a solid few weeks of email exchanges, I decided I couldn’t go through with it any longer. I put a stop to the set up and decided the fortune teller was wrong about May 25th. I’m sure this never happens, but perhaps this fortune teller was a fraud.

My brother’s wedding weekend finally arrived. There was so much excitement with the wedding, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also excited to see Jamie again after our two year hiatus. My brother picked me up from the airport the Thursday night before the wedding, and in true Kuya form, we headed straight to the bars to fit in as much partying as possible before his single days were done. Jamie showed up at the bar, and I was instantly back into crush mode. We casually chatted and flirted, and of course I asked him if he was dating anyone, and he said no. I suggested playfully that we should be each other’s dates for the wedding, and he completely agreed. That got me super nervous, so in my awkwardness I changed subjects and told him I wanted to try to set him up with one of my friends again. He looked as confused as I was, but agreed to it. I told him I needed to get his number so I could give it to my friend. I didn’t know how else I could get his number, but that did the trick. So I left the bar with Jamie’s number now stored in my phone and with him agreeing to be my non-date date for my brother’s wedding. And you guessed it, that night was May 25th.

On my brother’s wedding day, there was nothing but happiness in the air. And bonus, both Jamie and I were standing up in the wedding, so we were both dressed to impress. I remember standing in the vestibule of the church while waiting to process down the aisle, and I got a tiny bit emotional and quietly wiped away a tear. Then, from two couples behind me, I heard Jamie say, “Hey, no crying over there.” I thought to myself, “Yes, he’s watching me!” I had him in my periphery the whole day too, just waiting for that perfect moment to talk to him. But the time passed so quickly, and it felt like getting close to him was just not happening naturally. I felt sad for a second that things were maybe not going to happen for us, but then I thought that I was too drunk and too pretty that day, and I just had to make a move. I found him towards the end of the night and told him that he owed me a dance. He owed me nothing actually, but I thought that sounded like a rom-com line that he could appreciate. Unfortunately, when he finally mustered up the guts to ask me to dance, he got cock-blocked by one of his college friends. He missed his chance. Again, if Jamie was just ever so slightly more punctual, he would have had that last dance. But alas, unless he is playing a sport and chasing a ball or has to take a major shit, there is no urgency in this man’s step. Thank goodness for all, though, that after the party was the after-party.

My friend, Tina, was with me (you know, the one that got the full abdominal work out from laughing at the engineer’s MySpace page) during the reception and the after-party to take full advantage of the open bar. As Tina and I were walking to the hotel bar, Jamie came up from behind us and put his arm around me, and we walked together to the bar arm in arm. I was the happiest I had been all night. The three of us sat at the bar, and we were all hammered, but at least able to have a conversation. All eyes were on us, as if I had dozens of older brothers and sisters watching our every move. And this was gist of the conversation that ensued, slurred speech and all:

Ely: “So, you know you’re perfect for me, right? And I’m perfect for you.”

Jamie: “Yep.” (He then holds my hand)

Ely: “We should just be together then.”

Jamie: “We should. But your brother would never let it happen.”

Ely: “Eh, he’s married now. He won’t care. Here’s the plan. I want to do travel PT for a year, and you have two years left of law school. So let’s do our things, and then I’ll move back home in about 2 years, and we’ll get married.”

Jamie: “Ok!”

Ely: “Really? Cool! And how many kids do you want?”

Jamie: “Two.”

Ely: “Okay, me too. I like Isabelle for a girl, and Evan Nathaniel for a boy.”

Jamie: “Evan John, after my grandfather. I like Isabelle.”

Ely: “I’m good with John. We’re set then. We’ll get married in 2 years, and then we’ll have 2 kids named Isabelle and Evan. This is great! You know I’ll take care of you, right?’

Jamie: “Yep, I know. I’ll take care of you too. Like right now. You should drink some water.”

Tina: “Will you just make out already?!?”

Ely: “No way. I might throw up in his mouth.”

At that point, everyone was watching us, as in all of my brothers’ friends who knew we were breaking his “no dating my sister” rules. Kuya saw us at the bar holding hands, and he sent one of his groomsmen over to break us apart. I was drunk, but I still knew what was happening. So we stopped planning our future and Tina and I went back up to our rooms. Tina said, “See, I told you to make out already. Now you’re in trouble.” I went to bed feeling sick to my stomach, partly because I had just so much rum that day, but mostly because I felt like it wasn’t going to work out between us. And also, Kuya was pissed. The next morning at brunch, Jamie and I stayed so far away from each other, not even making eye contact. When it was time for me to leave, I gave everyone a hug and kiss goodbye including Jamie, and it was terribly awkward. I left feeling like I really fucked that one up pretty badly.

I told my sister and brother-in-law about what happened and how I was genuinely sad, and after laughing at my pitiful ass and at Kuya’s overreaction, my sister said, “Why don’t you just talk to Emer if you actually like this guy? I like Jamie, he seems nice. I mean, I’ve never known him sober, but he’s a nice guy when he’s drunk.” That was endorsement enough for me. While I waited for my plane back to Arizona, I decided to call Jamie (good thing I got is number that night). I apologized for being so sloppy drunk at the wedding, but that I meant every word I said. He said he did too. We talked for a bit, and it felt so easy and comforting. He said that maybe he’d talk to Emer when they got back from their honeymoon. We ended our conversation on a hopeful and excited note, and I felt the power of drunk Ely and sober Ely joining forces and totally nailing it.

A week after the wedding was my birthday, and I woke up that morning with a text from Jamie. I couldn’t believe he remembered. Sporadically after that, we exchanged texts and finally phone calls. We were really hitting it off, to the point where he realized he needed to have a conversation with my brother about us. His mom and sister told him not to go through with it because it would ruin their friendship if things didn’t work out, but he believed in us. He decided to meet Kuya for lunch, and he told Kuya that we had been talking and he wanted to pursue a relationship with me. Kuya said something along the lines of, “If this was U of I or Marquette days, I’d be totally against it. But you guys aren’t idiots anymore. You’re a good match for each other intellectually and you already know each other, so this might actually be a good thing. But don’t fuck it up, because she’s family and if it goes bad, I’m going to have to pick her. Don’t fuck it up.” So we got the green light from my brother, and within three weeks, he was on a plane to Arizona for our first date. By date two, Jamie told me he knew what he wanted and he was all in. We worked really hard to make our long distance relationship thrive, and within a year we were engaged. And just as we had discussed that night at my brother’s wedding, I moved back home in two years and we got married.

That’s the story of us. It’s a story of patience, good timing, friendship over infatuation, going for what you want, and putting the hard work into a relationship that you believe in. I have known Jamie for over twenty years, and I have learned that he is a quiet and calculated guy, decisive when he needs to be, endearingly awkward, loyal, humble, funny, intelligent, and he knows a good catch when he sees it (as in, when he sees it drunk on a bar stool planning his future). I love our story, and I hope to have the opportunity to tell our kids and grandkids someday. I know, given the current circumstances, I couldn’t give Jamie a great birthday celebration this year, but I hope this little walk down memory lane puts a smile on his face (maybe yours too), and reminds him and all of us that if we remain patient and hopeful during this time of uncertainty, happy times will once again reappear. All in good time. Cheers to my favorite guy, and thanks for giving us a story worth telling.