I got a really angry comment about this blog and I don't know who sent it. Before I really thought about it, I got upset and deleted it. It stuck in my head for a few days however.
Because it was true.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I took a shower, took out my infernal contact lenses and put on my favorite college sweatshirt (which I guess is now my favorite, tattered college rag). Dave was getting dress to leave. I sat there crosslegged finishing my third beer-if you know me , you know that the third one makes me officially drunk.
"It's hard to believe you're thirty." he said. (A completely unnecessary compliment as I've already stated he's getting ready to leave.) "I'm not 30; I'm 34, closer to 35 if we're going to be fair."
"Really? well I guess we have known each other for three years. But you were 31 then?" And from out of nowhere a crazy memory runs through my brain.
"Yeah, I was 31 when we met."
And then, "What ever happened to that guy?"
I know full well what guy Dave is referring to but I don't want to go there. "You know that guy. What was his name? The one we ran into on our first date." And I have nowhere to go but there. "Rick."
Yes, on my first date with Dave, we ran into Rick. And I almost knew it was going to happen and couldn't do anything to stop it. The irony of my life.
It was near Rick's 40th birthday. we were sort of in between dating. I thought we were done- I was out trying to meet new people- and I had no idea that we would date again. and break up again. More than once.
But he had called me to see if I wanted to join him and his friends for his birthday. And I had set-up a date with Dave already. But I did ask where he and his friends were going-and it happened to be the same not very large town where I was supposed to meet Dave. and Dave had already left. I crossed my fingers and hoped they would be at another bar.
Things were going well. Dave and I were sitting at the bar talking. As first dates go it was good. And then from behind us we heard a big, loud group of people come in. "I wonder what that ruckus is all about," Dave said. And I turned just a hair to see Rick walk in the door. This can't be happening I thought. No, it can't. So in typical fashion, I ignored it.
Until I felt a hand around my shoulder and heard the voice, "Jennifer." I was trapped. There was one arm behind me and my date next to me. I had no where to go. And someone was enjoying my discomfort. And them introduced himself.
"So how long have you and Jen been going out?" At this point I just want to die.
"She's a really great girl." A double whammy since I can't take a compliment to save my life and he's being way over the top on the really great part.
After what seems like an eternity and a couple more intonations of "she's really great" there is a god and he returns to his group. I breath a giant sigh and then return my attentions to my stunned date. "I'm really sorry about that," I say trying to begin the repair. "You slept with him didn't you?" And for a moment I sit there, wishing I was anywhere but there. And Dave starts to laugh at my squirming, "It's kind of obvious," he says now nearly laughing. So I admit, we used to date. And he continues to the next logical, albeit unsettling, question. "What happened."
"I don't know."
Three years later and I think I know.
Anyways. Back to, "What ever happened to that guy?"
I think about it for a minute and answer with, "I farked up." And then the entire story of earlier in February.
"You should call him," Dave says. "He really likes you. In fact in a few more minutes I would have left you there with him at the bar that first night we went out. You could see it. Really. I've never seen that type of thing."
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Dave Friendly- Part II
Since all sense of what was proper and what was not proper to discuss with one's friend with benefits had flown out the window, I threw a big idea out. Big. So big Dave looked at me like I had suggested ritualistic human sacrifice.
"I think I want to have a baby."
And he nearly choked to death on his beer. "Should I be worried? I mean about what we just did?" And he's quite possibly the only guy I know who wouldn't be offended by, "No, no, no. I'd never want to have a baby with you."
He lit another one and opened another beer. Closed his eyes and stretched across the bed. "I love how you just mention big topics like this off handedly. Remember when you told me you were starting a business? Just one day, out of the blue. And you had it all figured out already in your mind. And then you went and did it. So tell me about this proposed baby."
He didn't know the background- the fear of babies, the problems I might have trying to have a baby (mostly not being able to). But the explanation was pretty clear in my head. "So, go do it."And then a little further explanation from me until we got to the really odd part. "If I don't find someone in the next few years, I'm considering doing it by myself."
"Really? You think it will come to that?" he asked, now staring at me. " I can't imagine you not being able to find someone." And then my answer," It's not that I can't find someone- it's finding the right someone, you goof." "So you're really going to try that by yourself?" and a crazy questioning look. "Well maybe. I'd have a lot to work out first."
"I think I want to have a baby."
And he nearly choked to death on his beer. "Should I be worried? I mean about what we just did?" And he's quite possibly the only guy I know who wouldn't be offended by, "No, no, no. I'd never want to have a baby with you."
He lit another one and opened another beer. Closed his eyes and stretched across the bed. "I love how you just mention big topics like this off handedly. Remember when you told me you were starting a business? Just one day, out of the blue. And you had it all figured out already in your mind. And then you went and did it. So tell me about this proposed baby."
He didn't know the background- the fear of babies, the problems I might have trying to have a baby (mostly not being able to). But the explanation was pretty clear in my head. "So, go do it."And then a little further explanation from me until we got to the really odd part. "If I don't find someone in the next few years, I'm considering doing it by myself."
"Really? You think it will come to that?" he asked, now staring at me. " I can't imagine you not being able to find someone." And then my answer," It's not that I can't find someone- it's finding the right someone, you goof." "So you're really going to try that by yourself?" and a crazy questioning look. "Well maybe. I'd have a lot to work out first."
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
The 80 % rule
A friend e-mailed me a few days ago to say that he thinks my life is interesting. I had no idea of what to say. I don't think my life is all that exciting. Strange; yes. Interesting; not so much. I ended up telling him I would ponder his remark as I scrubbed the next few bathtubs. But so far I've got nothing. There's a big topic rolling around in my mind but its not coming out coherently. In the mean time this story seems suitably interesting.
After Rick I met Dave Friendly. Don't confuse this Dave with my friend Dave-follow closely. Dave and I went on a few dates before it became obvious that he was not "the one." This didn't bother him in the least and he quickly became "the friend with benefits."
He was the one I used when I was trying to forget. Or when there was no one to forget but loneliness. He's a great guy but made two things very clear from the beginning: he was incapable of monogamy and not interested in anything serious. Somedays this made him perfect and other days this made him the anti-Christ depending on my mood. But if I called, he showed up. And if he called and I wasn't dating anyone great-well he showed up then too.
Dave didn't know that I was trying to forget and didn't care. Our first date was eventful (another day) but remained clothed. Our second date involved some dinner somewhere and a rented movie. I think he developed a clear picture of my intent when he let me pick the movie at the rental place. "It's good. I've already seen it."
Most people would have called it a doomed relationship but we weren't even trying to have a relationship. I was trying to erase someone and Dave was busy being Dave.
And this arrangement worked well for three years. He was the second person I called after any major break-up (or even any minor break-up sometimes). When I just wanted to forget Dave was the guy.
Sometimes he would call when my relationships were going well and he always took it in stride, "I hope this works out for you-but if it doesn't you know how to reach me." And it never did work out. He knows all the "reasons" and all the rejection of the past few years. But he only has an idea of what happened before he and I met.
The last time Dave came over (and as the story will tell I mean last time as in final) things went pretty much as usual. Except I had changed. Something was different. It was me.
Six months before Dave had been over and afterward asked me a strange question. "Do you think I should marry Susan?" I questioned why I, of all people, would be the one to come to for advice on this. He and Susan had been dating for close to 3 years- she was the girlfriend who came after me. And that time I didn't give an answer. I had another thing or two to learn before I would really change.
But the second time he asked me was different. Naked, in bed with another woman, drunk and definitely stoned-he thought to ask me if he should marry her. The sheer ridiculousness of the question made me laugh out loud. But he was serious, "I value your advice- out of all the women I know you are the most grounded. I know you'll give me good advice." I was flattered. And I thought about the question. And in my usual irritating fashion answered a question with a question- "Well why do you think you should marry her?" His reasoning was pretty sound. She had put up with him for three years, neither of them wanted children (which up until then I had not known), he was getting older and had no desire to start over with dating. I followed with a girly question, "Do you love her?" I really had no idea if he did or not. It wasn't really the sort of thing we generally discussed. He told me that he guessed he did- that he really wasn't sure of what love was or if it even existed. He said they had had a similar conversation before and that she had said she wasn't sure true love existed either. And while I had been lucky enough to experience it I was unable to describe it. And I was lying in my bed thinking of how to explain love when I knew we were through. "Yes Dave, this is twice you've brought this up. It's been more than six months and you're still thinking about it. Go ask her."
There were too many things going on in my head to explain. Too many ideas and too many memories I would be unable to erase.
In the end I went with humor. "You know-as far as I can tell about 80% of the guys I date marry whoever they date after me." "Really?" he questioned. "Yeah- I guess I should have warned you to choose carefully."
After Rick I met Dave Friendly. Don't confuse this Dave with my friend Dave-follow closely. Dave and I went on a few dates before it became obvious that he was not "the one." This didn't bother him in the least and he quickly became "the friend with benefits."
He was the one I used when I was trying to forget. Or when there was no one to forget but loneliness. He's a great guy but made two things very clear from the beginning: he was incapable of monogamy and not interested in anything serious. Somedays this made him perfect and other days this made him the anti-Christ depending on my mood. But if I called, he showed up. And if he called and I wasn't dating anyone great-well he showed up then too.
Dave didn't know that I was trying to forget and didn't care. Our first date was eventful (another day) but remained clothed. Our second date involved some dinner somewhere and a rented movie. I think he developed a clear picture of my intent when he let me pick the movie at the rental place. "It's good. I've already seen it."
Most people would have called it a doomed relationship but we weren't even trying to have a relationship. I was trying to erase someone and Dave was busy being Dave.
And this arrangement worked well for three years. He was the second person I called after any major break-up (or even any minor break-up sometimes). When I just wanted to forget Dave was the guy.
Sometimes he would call when my relationships were going well and he always took it in stride, "I hope this works out for you-but if it doesn't you know how to reach me." And it never did work out. He knows all the "reasons" and all the rejection of the past few years. But he only has an idea of what happened before he and I met.
The last time Dave came over (and as the story will tell I mean last time as in final) things went pretty much as usual. Except I had changed. Something was different. It was me.
Six months before Dave had been over and afterward asked me a strange question. "Do you think I should marry Susan?" I questioned why I, of all people, would be the one to come to for advice on this. He and Susan had been dating for close to 3 years- she was the girlfriend who came after me. And that time I didn't give an answer. I had another thing or two to learn before I would really change.
But the second time he asked me was different. Naked, in bed with another woman, drunk and definitely stoned-he thought to ask me if he should marry her. The sheer ridiculousness of the question made me laugh out loud. But he was serious, "I value your advice- out of all the women I know you are the most grounded. I know you'll give me good advice." I was flattered. And I thought about the question. And in my usual irritating fashion answered a question with a question- "Well why do you think you should marry her?" His reasoning was pretty sound. She had put up with him for three years, neither of them wanted children (which up until then I had not known), he was getting older and had no desire to start over with dating. I followed with a girly question, "Do you love her?" I really had no idea if he did or not. It wasn't really the sort of thing we generally discussed. He told me that he guessed he did- that he really wasn't sure of what love was or if it even existed. He said they had had a similar conversation before and that she had said she wasn't sure true love existed either. And while I had been lucky enough to experience it I was unable to describe it. And I was lying in my bed thinking of how to explain love when I knew we were through. "Yes Dave, this is twice you've brought this up. It's been more than six months and you're still thinking about it. Go ask her."
There were too many things going on in my head to explain. Too many ideas and too many memories I would be unable to erase.
In the end I went with humor. "You know-as far as I can tell about 80% of the guys I date marry whoever they date after me." "Really?" he questioned. "Yeah- I guess I should have warned you to choose carefully."
Monday, September 3, 2007
Fear of Babies
In my catalog of problems with Rick next on the hit parade comes babies.
Rummaging through the junk drawer that is my life last week I stumbled upon the my one and only Rick momento- a ticket to a Tiger's home game. Friday August 6, 2004 up in the bleachers. It was an awesome date (awesomeness discussed later).
It was a work event-his work- which I thought odd for a third date that we almost didn't have (also a topic for another day).
So we're at a big work function and I think I'm doing well. And then the real story comes into play. Someone is there with their newborn baby. Like two weeks old. It's this baby's first trip out into the social scene it appears. And Rick loves babies (he will be a great dad and somewhere in this mess I start rating dates on their dad-ability). So there we are- he's holding an infant. It appears that everyone wants to hold the baby and nearly everyone does. And then I hear, "Do you want to hold him?" And it's coming from Rick and its directed toward me.
Unbeknownst to the general public- a few eeks before my divorce was final I made a trip to my doctor with the idea of using my ex-husbands insurance one last time. I had no intention of hearing bad news. Or the need for even more doctors and more tests. And it was a surprise to hear what they said lastly, "You may have some difficulties having children and we won't really know until you try."
And with those words fresh in my mind there he was asking if I'd like to hold an infant. Somewhere Freud and Jung were laughing-laughing that phony laugh you make when someone's joke bombs.
I guess the look on my face told the story. The look on his face was puzzled and his co-workers were quickly assigning me either fling or trophy status.
While the rest of the night was truly great- that issue would never really go away for us.
Late one night on the phone- "Are you ever going to tell me why you're afraid of babies?"He was the first I would try to explain my situation to, the first of many. I'd like to think that in the three years since my explanation has improved. This response was one of the best I've heard-clearly, he wanted to be a father no matter what.
In time my reaction to the whole baby thing would change and I would face that fear too. If it happens, it happens- worrying over it isn't going to change the facts or the outcome. I'm not sure how to end this- it's just one of the things I had to work on. There wasn't anyone who could help me. There were no magic words. Just time.
Rummaging through the junk drawer that is my life last week I stumbled upon the my one and only Rick momento- a ticket to a Tiger's home game. Friday August 6, 2004 up in the bleachers. It was an awesome date (awesomeness discussed later).
It was a work event-his work- which I thought odd for a third date that we almost didn't have (also a topic for another day).
So we're at a big work function and I think I'm doing well. And then the real story comes into play. Someone is there with their newborn baby. Like two weeks old. It's this baby's first trip out into the social scene it appears. And Rick loves babies (he will be a great dad and somewhere in this mess I start rating dates on their dad-ability). So there we are- he's holding an infant. It appears that everyone wants to hold the baby and nearly everyone does. And then I hear, "Do you want to hold him?" And it's coming from Rick and its directed toward me.
Unbeknownst to the general public- a few eeks before my divorce was final I made a trip to my doctor with the idea of using my ex-husbands insurance one last time. I had no intention of hearing bad news. Or the need for even more doctors and more tests. And it was a surprise to hear what they said lastly, "You may have some difficulties having children and we won't really know until you try."
And with those words fresh in my mind there he was asking if I'd like to hold an infant. Somewhere Freud and Jung were laughing-laughing that phony laugh you make when someone's joke bombs.
I guess the look on my face told the story. The look on his face was puzzled and his co-workers were quickly assigning me either fling or trophy status.
While the rest of the night was truly great- that issue would never really go away for us.
Late one night on the phone- "Are you ever going to tell me why you're afraid of babies?"He was the first I would try to explain my situation to, the first of many. I'd like to think that in the three years since my explanation has improved. This response was one of the best I've heard-clearly, he wanted to be a father no matter what.
In time my reaction to the whole baby thing would change and I would face that fear too. If it happens, it happens- worrying over it isn't going to change the facts or the outcome. I'm not sure how to end this- it's just one of the things I had to work on. There wasn't anyone who could help me. There were no magic words. Just time.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
A Catalog of Problems
A few days ago a friend called me to vent about his girlfriend, seems she's emotionally unavailable-you see she's still hung up on her ex. I was about to say that the worst part is that she fully admits to this but then I remembered. I had been that girl too.
Rick and I had our first dating go-around a little more than three years ago. For those of you trying to complete an accurate time-line it was really just months after the judge stamped the divorce papers. During the divorce proceedings I would waste more time with an idiot I had dated before. I lost that one to the "other woman". She was tall, blond and always smiling. You probably know her, it seems everyone does. But I was no match for St. Pauli Girl sadly and he chose to continue drinking them into profitablity. In a great forecast of the future- my parting shot to that drunken loser was, "My relationships don't fail because I don't try. You farked this one up." To which he nodded and stumbled off.
But for the next one I really wouldn't try. In fact I would sabotage secretly. It wasn't that I wasn't over my ex or the drunk, I just hadn't had enough time to heal. What I really needed has to be alone for a bit but I didn't see that then. So I decided to go right back to dating but this time I was going to be as "involved." It seemed like a a simple plan.
Rick and I had our first date shortly(and by shortly-I mean hours) after I finished with the drunk. No time to waste, I was on a mission. It was a fairly normal first date; drinks, conversation.
The following day I was feeling good about it still. And this is where my plan came into effect. My friends kept telling me that I always got too involved with these losers. I only heard the"too involved" portion. So the following day I went out to a local spot to see what else was out there- I was not going to become too involved again. And that's how I met Pete. He probably wasn't someone I would have normally dated but I was out looking for something new.
And here's where the first of many mistakes I made with Rick would begin. At first it was easy to juggle them. But as the summer progressed it became more and more difficult. Eventually I would come clean with Pete. "There's someone else." His reaction was not what I had anticipated, he cried. Driving home that night I thought about telling Rick but their (Rick and Pete) personalities were so different I couldn't imagine what Rick's reaction would be. So I didn't. And the problem just grew. The phone calls and the voicemails-"I've gone straight to your voicemail; I hope this means you're getting some sleep. Talk to you in the morning." The lies I told to cover myself.
And then one late night on the phone,"It's like you're not all there for me. Like you keep a part hidden. I really like you, or at least what I've seen of you so far, but I need to see the whole picture." I didn't have much of a reply. There wasn't a whole lot I could say. But it did seem as if there was something I could do; I could be more involved.
The next time I saw Pete would be the last. It was a terrible night. On the way home, in the pouring rain, there was only one person I wanted to talk to- to tell him that I was ready. Ready to be more involved. And I got the voicemail.
My call was not returned, not for several months. I guess I had decided too late and he had moved on. Later on we would talk about it-he would say that I just wasn't all there. I would confess to seeing someone else.
Later on I would realize that the someone else really didn't matter. Even if there had been no Pete I still would have held on to some small part of myself to avoid being hurt. Time would heal that part of me however, and one day I would be well enough to show someone all of me again.
Rick and I had our first dating go-around a little more than three years ago. For those of you trying to complete an accurate time-line it was really just months after the judge stamped the divorce papers. During the divorce proceedings I would waste more time with an idiot I had dated before. I lost that one to the "other woman". She was tall, blond and always smiling. You probably know her, it seems everyone does. But I was no match for St. Pauli Girl sadly and he chose to continue drinking them into profitablity. In a great forecast of the future- my parting shot to that drunken loser was, "My relationships don't fail because I don't try. You farked this one up." To which he nodded and stumbled off.
But for the next one I really wouldn't try. In fact I would sabotage secretly. It wasn't that I wasn't over my ex or the drunk, I just hadn't had enough time to heal. What I really needed has to be alone for a bit but I didn't see that then. So I decided to go right back to dating but this time I was going to be as "involved." It seemed like a a simple plan.
Rick and I had our first date shortly(and by shortly-I mean hours) after I finished with the drunk. No time to waste, I was on a mission. It was a fairly normal first date; drinks, conversation.
The following day I was feeling good about it still. And this is where my plan came into effect. My friends kept telling me that I always got too involved with these losers. I only heard the"too involved" portion. So the following day I went out to a local spot to see what else was out there- I was not going to become too involved again. And that's how I met Pete. He probably wasn't someone I would have normally dated but I was out looking for something new.
And here's where the first of many mistakes I made with Rick would begin. At first it was easy to juggle them. But as the summer progressed it became more and more difficult. Eventually I would come clean with Pete. "There's someone else." His reaction was not what I had anticipated, he cried. Driving home that night I thought about telling Rick but their (Rick and Pete) personalities were so different I couldn't imagine what Rick's reaction would be. So I didn't. And the problem just grew. The phone calls and the voicemails-"I've gone straight to your voicemail; I hope this means you're getting some sleep. Talk to you in the morning." The lies I told to cover myself.
And then one late night on the phone,"It's like you're not all there for me. Like you keep a part hidden. I really like you, or at least what I've seen of you so far, but I need to see the whole picture." I didn't have much of a reply. There wasn't a whole lot I could say. But it did seem as if there was something I could do; I could be more involved.
The next time I saw Pete would be the last. It was a terrible night. On the way home, in the pouring rain, there was only one person I wanted to talk to- to tell him that I was ready. Ready to be more involved. And I got the voicemail.
My call was not returned, not for several months. I guess I had decided too late and he had moved on. Later on we would talk about it-he would say that I just wasn't all there. I would confess to seeing someone else.
Later on I would realize that the someone else really didn't matter. Even if there had been no Pete I still would have held on to some small part of myself to avoid being hurt. Time would heal that part of me however, and one day I would be well enough to show someone all of me again.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Lather, rinse, repeat
I've said it before and I'll say it again; when the message is really important sometimes the universe has to tell you twice. Such was the case with "some things just don't work out." A friend of mine is going through a similar problem so I'm going to tell the precursor to things that don't work out and maybe that will get through their thick skull (kidding-sort of).
It was two years ago, Superbowl weekend. I secretly believe he left that night because he knew the Seahawks would lose and he didn't want to pay up on our bet. But anyways, we were at home supposedly relaxing. But we hadn't really been able to relax together for weeks.
It really started on my birthday a few weeks earlier. Where we were going was a surprise. The real surprise would be the dead end we would reach by the end of the evening. I felt rushed getting ready, although I can't remember why. And when I came downstairs I got my favorite, "You're going to wear that?" I argued that since I had no idea where we were headed it was hard to select an outfit and if I was really that far off the mark why didn't he march his rear upstairs and pick out something different from the 10 x 10 closet we both shared. He knew my clothes nearly as well as I did after all. This argument continued into the car and most of the way there. I was moments from tears (my lowest quality according to him) and he knew it.
We arrived at The Whitney still smoldering. It was a disagreement with no winner but it was my day and I clearly thought he should lay off this line of reasoning. The last thing I remember him saying as we walked to the door was, "Is a nice dinner without theatrics too much to ask for?" I gave him the look. We sat down and the waiter gave his spiel. He had no idea that table ten was on the verge of a melt down. I thought a drink would make me feel better. So I had two. But the irritation would continue as I was instructed on how to order and what utensil was correct. "I'm not five you know. I don't need to you to tell me these things." "Well I'll stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one." And then a course of silence; I think it was soup.
I have to give him half credit at this point. Half credit for trying to entertain me in conversation; a big red mark for topic chosen however. "So, you're 32 years old. What are you going to do with the rest of your life?" My mind raced through various, sarcastic remarks, the truth and how badly I did not want to have this conversation. So I said nothing. But, undaunted, he continued, "Well it's not like you can go on like this forever. When are you going to actually do something?"
We had not been together very long but in our short time we had looked at more than 50 homes for sale, talked about the possibility of children, he had met my family. "What did I want to do with the rest of my life?" What any 32 year old woman would want want; to get married again and try to start my own family-perhaps our family. But the words wouldn't come. The tears did however. And as we all know once they start there's no stopping them. The look on his face was so dreadful. There was no apology or quarter given and the questions just got worse. Eventually I would leave the table and pass the waiter who would give me a pained look.
There would be no apology when I returned in fact few words were said. And as I opened my birthday present he would look at me and say, "I hope you realize this will be that last jewelry I buy you." And recognizing his Freudian slip tack on, "for a long time."
Two weeks later he would pick a fight with me over something so non-consequential it now seems funny. we no longer went out because as he put it, "You could break down in tears at any moment and I just can't take that risk; everyone staring at me thinking I've done something to you." So we were home. What would start the fight doesn't even matter. He would turn to me and declare he was done with me and that he was leaving and then get up from his chair. And feeling a mix of emotions I would offer to help him pack.
I held it together for the first few hours well. But my grip was slipping. As he passed me with another box n the way to his car he would tell me that he didn't think all of his stuff would fit in one trip and that he would probably have to come back. And at that moment I had my usual amount of backbone for the first time in weeks. "Then you had better decide what you really want to take with you and prioritize accordingly. You've already ruined enough of my life and I will not let you have another day. You're not coming back." He looked stunned as the whole "you're not coming back" thing was actually his sentiment. He always said that once he broke off a relationship he never came back. Truer words had not been spoken.
Everything did fit in his car. And at 3am in a blinding, wet snowstorm I put the last box in his car and stood there on the sidewalk. That's when the tears would start. He grabbed me in what would be our last hug and kissed me on the forehead like a small child. And I would manage to eeck out that I was sorry I had farked things up.
Standing next to the open driver's door he would turn to me and say, "You didn't ever mess this up. It just wasn't meant to be."
It was two years ago, Superbowl weekend. I secretly believe he left that night because he knew the Seahawks would lose and he didn't want to pay up on our bet. But anyways, we were at home supposedly relaxing. But we hadn't really been able to relax together for weeks.
It really started on my birthday a few weeks earlier. Where we were going was a surprise. The real surprise would be the dead end we would reach by the end of the evening. I felt rushed getting ready, although I can't remember why. And when I came downstairs I got my favorite, "You're going to wear that?" I argued that since I had no idea where we were headed it was hard to select an outfit and if I was really that far off the mark why didn't he march his rear upstairs and pick out something different from the 10 x 10 closet we both shared. He knew my clothes nearly as well as I did after all. This argument continued into the car and most of the way there. I was moments from tears (my lowest quality according to him) and he knew it.
We arrived at The Whitney still smoldering. It was a disagreement with no winner but it was my day and I clearly thought he should lay off this line of reasoning. The last thing I remember him saying as we walked to the door was, "Is a nice dinner without theatrics too much to ask for?" I gave him the look. We sat down and the waiter gave his spiel. He had no idea that table ten was on the verge of a melt down. I thought a drink would make me feel better. So I had two. But the irritation would continue as I was instructed on how to order and what utensil was correct. "I'm not five you know. I don't need to you to tell me these things." "Well I'll stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one." And then a course of silence; I think it was soup.
I have to give him half credit at this point. Half credit for trying to entertain me in conversation; a big red mark for topic chosen however. "So, you're 32 years old. What are you going to do with the rest of your life?" My mind raced through various, sarcastic remarks, the truth and how badly I did not want to have this conversation. So I said nothing. But, undaunted, he continued, "Well it's not like you can go on like this forever. When are you going to actually do something?"
We had not been together very long but in our short time we had looked at more than 50 homes for sale, talked about the possibility of children, he had met my family. "What did I want to do with the rest of my life?" What any 32 year old woman would want want; to get married again and try to start my own family-perhaps our family. But the words wouldn't come. The tears did however. And as we all know once they start there's no stopping them. The look on his face was so dreadful. There was no apology or quarter given and the questions just got worse. Eventually I would leave the table and pass the waiter who would give me a pained look.
There would be no apology when I returned in fact few words were said. And as I opened my birthday present he would look at me and say, "I hope you realize this will be that last jewelry I buy you." And recognizing his Freudian slip tack on, "for a long time."
Two weeks later he would pick a fight with me over something so non-consequential it now seems funny. we no longer went out because as he put it, "You could break down in tears at any moment and I just can't take that risk; everyone staring at me thinking I've done something to you." So we were home. What would start the fight doesn't even matter. He would turn to me and declare he was done with me and that he was leaving and then get up from his chair. And feeling a mix of emotions I would offer to help him pack.
I held it together for the first few hours well. But my grip was slipping. As he passed me with another box n the way to his car he would tell me that he didn't think all of his stuff would fit in one trip and that he would probably have to come back. And at that moment I had my usual amount of backbone for the first time in weeks. "Then you had better decide what you really want to take with you and prioritize accordingly. You've already ruined enough of my life and I will not let you have another day. You're not coming back." He looked stunned as the whole "you're not coming back" thing was actually his sentiment. He always said that once he broke off a relationship he never came back. Truer words had not been spoken.
Everything did fit in his car. And at 3am in a blinding, wet snowstorm I put the last box in his car and stood there on the sidewalk. That's when the tears would start. He grabbed me in what would be our last hug and kissed me on the forehead like a small child. And I would manage to eeck out that I was sorry I had farked things up.
Standing next to the open driver's door he would turn to me and say, "You didn't ever mess this up. It just wasn't meant to be."
Saturday, July 28, 2007
iPod
The worst thing following a break-up is music. You hear a song that makes you think of them. You hear a sad, depressing song and want to gouge your eyes out. And the fine folks at Apple have added to our misery. Yep, 80 GB of songs to torment yourself with. I had put the iPod in a drawer and shut it. Most of the music were downloads from Paul and I really didn't need that right then.
If you believe in God (or gods or whatever) I must say they have a twisted sense of humor. I don't remember exactly when it was but I was on the phone with Rick. The topic of mp3 players came up. He thought it would be a great thing for me to listen to while I worked but was surprised to hear I had already bought one. For those who don't know: I'm technolocically impaired. If it's an electronic gadget I have an IQ of 75 or so. I had been influenced by someone who has not one but two of these crazy things.
Anyways, I'm on the phone with Rick. And in his quest to see something of the "hidden me" he harmlessly asks what the top 10 played songs are on my iPod. I stutter and stammer and try to avoid the question at all costs. He has no clue what is causing my distress. Is the playlist a federal secret? No, it's not and I'm not sure what the song will be but I'm afraid to look. I waffle, vacillate and eventually he gives up this line of questioning. I should have just said something by the Scorpions or some other 80's hairband. My not answering raised suspicion.
And I didn't look for several months. and then the query popped into my head. I had an idea of what the most played song was. It was sent to me in a link one night along with the lyrics. It was the epitome of a romantic gesture. The first time I heard it I cried.
It was also a big neon flashing sign.
The most played song? Question by The Old 97's.
And for those of you who don't know:
Some day somebody's gonna ask you
a question that you should say yes to
once in your life
If you believe in God (or gods or whatever) I must say they have a twisted sense of humor. I don't remember exactly when it was but I was on the phone with Rick. The topic of mp3 players came up. He thought it would be a great thing for me to listen to while I worked but was surprised to hear I had already bought one. For those who don't know: I'm technolocically impaired. If it's an electronic gadget I have an IQ of 75 or so. I had been influenced by someone who has not one but two of these crazy things.
Anyways, I'm on the phone with Rick. And in his quest to see something of the "hidden me" he harmlessly asks what the top 10 played songs are on my iPod. I stutter and stammer and try to avoid the question at all costs. He has no clue what is causing my distress. Is the playlist a federal secret? No, it's not and I'm not sure what the song will be but I'm afraid to look. I waffle, vacillate and eventually he gives up this line of questioning. I should have just said something by the Scorpions or some other 80's hairband. My not answering raised suspicion.
And I didn't look for several months. and then the query popped into my head. I had an idea of what the most played song was. It was sent to me in a link one night along with the lyrics. It was the epitome of a romantic gesture. The first time I heard it I cried.
It was also a big neon flashing sign.
The most played song? Question by The Old 97's.
And for those of you who don't know:
Some day somebody's gonna ask you
a question that you should say yes to
once in your life
Friday, July 27, 2007
Aftermath
So there I am. And the one person I really want to talk to most is Rick. But this is a break-up where I haven't checked my self esteem at the door. I've been set down on my feet this time.
In the next few days I realize that this, if you believe in karma, is my payback. A few months ago I squashed someone's telling me and now I've been squashed. I call Rick to apologize and my calls go unreturned.
I lean on my friends and try to stay busy. Waste countless hours on the internet. I'm not sure what I'm more sorry about; what I had done or what had happened to me. But I realize that in the end I am okay.
Excessive iron in your diet can cause a medical condition call hemochromatosis. Excessive irony in your life is just a pain in the ass.
In the next few days I realize that this, if you believe in karma, is my payback. A few months ago I squashed someone's telling me and now I've been squashed. I call Rick to apologize and my calls go unreturned.
I lean on my friends and try to stay busy. Waste countless hours on the internet. I'm not sure what I'm more sorry about; what I had done or what had happened to me. But I realize that in the end I am okay.
Excessive iron in your diet can cause a medical condition call hemochromatosis. Excessive irony in your life is just a pain in the ass.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Some things just don't work out
Almost everything in my life has some sort of foreshadowing. I never see it until later. sometimes I have to be told twice. This is another one of those fine instances.
Paul and I make it to around the 5 month mark. Which is pretty much par for me. I'm not totally sure what happens; although I have an inkling. I think this is the point at which I either decide to go all in or decide to cash out my chips and go home. I think you pretty much know how its going to go at this point in most relationships. However on this particular day I had no clue.
Paul was stressing and I was feeling like there should be something I could "fix". But try as I might he was pretty resistant to any and all of my attempts. I was a fish out of water as they say. Late in the night, desperate to make things "better," I did something pretty uncharacteristic of me. I said the three word phrase.
As soon as I said it I strangely felt much better. For about 10 seconds. Paul did not respond with anything near the response one would hope for. In fact he said it worried him. It would be a long drawn out conversation, lasting well into the morning. He didn't have the time, energy or desire to be serious about any relationship right now. And wouldn't for more than two years. And I couldn't wait around for two years.
There really was nothing I could do or say. Some things just don't work out.
Paul and I make it to around the 5 month mark. Which is pretty much par for me. I'm not totally sure what happens; although I have an inkling. I think this is the point at which I either decide to go all in or decide to cash out my chips and go home. I think you pretty much know how its going to go at this point in most relationships. However on this particular day I had no clue.
Paul was stressing and I was feeling like there should be something I could "fix". But try as I might he was pretty resistant to any and all of my attempts. I was a fish out of water as they say. Late in the night, desperate to make things "better," I did something pretty uncharacteristic of me. I said the three word phrase.
As soon as I said it I strangely felt much better. For about 10 seconds. Paul did not respond with anything near the response one would hope for. In fact he said it worried him. It would be a long drawn out conversation, lasting well into the morning. He didn't have the time, energy or desire to be serious about any relationship right now. And wouldn't for more than two years. And I couldn't wait around for two years.
There really was nothing I could do or say. Some things just don't work out.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Someone to fix me
Well I've been chewing over how to best tell this portion for a few days. I can't think of how best to explain it. This could be because this is one of the few cases of someone fixing me (rather than the reverse). It's subtle and it snuck up on me.
Paul and I start talking after the Alan debacle. After drinks with Rick, and the subsequent sleepover, Rick does his usual disappearing act. Paul and rick are so not alike it's nearly funny. Paul has high ideals for the relationship and lays out clear ground rules before we meet in person. He not looking for a casual fling and it's unacceptable for me to date other people while seeing him-even though due to distance and circumstances its clear we won't be able to get together very often by my standards.
When we finally do meet in person I'm torn. But only for the first five minutes. He's not really my type looks wise and he's dressed in a style so much younger than mine I fear the people around us think I'm his mother. But after the first five minutes everything just clicks. Life is good.
Our second date turns into some sort of dating marathon. And I have him over to my house. Which is strictly forbidden-usually having people over to my place freaks me out-especially people that I don't know very well. It's going well, for once I'm getting to know someone before they see me naked.
On the third date we are at his place. Somehow the topic gets onto old relationships. Specifically mine, which we all know don't always go so well. "Every relationship I've ever been in was a failure." I say actually quoting Rick. When Rick and I first dated I was feeling bad about my six month marriage failing and these were his words of consolation. Like I said-not romantic- but the thought was there. Anyways this declarations stops Paul dead in his tracks. He turns and looks at me," That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. And if that's really the way you think then NO relationship is ever going to work for you and I don't even know why you're here."
Reality check please.
He then explains that my attitude is predetermining the outcome. That nearly every relationship teaches you something, makes you smarter or improves you choosing skills for the next relationship.
And that if you tried your best in a relationship and really gave it your all; that even if things didn't work out you shouldn't consider it to be a failure of yours. Somethings just don't work out.
Paul and I start talking after the Alan debacle. After drinks with Rick, and the subsequent sleepover, Rick does his usual disappearing act. Paul and rick are so not alike it's nearly funny. Paul has high ideals for the relationship and lays out clear ground rules before we meet in person. He not looking for a casual fling and it's unacceptable for me to date other people while seeing him-even though due to distance and circumstances its clear we won't be able to get together very often by my standards.
When we finally do meet in person I'm torn. But only for the first five minutes. He's not really my type looks wise and he's dressed in a style so much younger than mine I fear the people around us think I'm his mother. But after the first five minutes everything just clicks. Life is good.
Our second date turns into some sort of dating marathon. And I have him over to my house. Which is strictly forbidden-usually having people over to my place freaks me out-especially people that I don't know very well. It's going well, for once I'm getting to know someone before they see me naked.
On the third date we are at his place. Somehow the topic gets onto old relationships. Specifically mine, which we all know don't always go so well. "Every relationship I've ever been in was a failure." I say actually quoting Rick. When Rick and I first dated I was feeling bad about my six month marriage failing and these were his words of consolation. Like I said-not romantic- but the thought was there. Anyways this declarations stops Paul dead in his tracks. He turns and looks at me," That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. And if that's really the way you think then NO relationship is ever going to work for you and I don't even know why you're here."
Reality check please.
He then explains that my attitude is predetermining the outcome. That nearly every relationship teaches you something, makes you smarter or improves you choosing skills for the next relationship.
And that if you tried your best in a relationship and really gave it your all; that even if things didn't work out you shouldn't consider it to be a failure of yours. Somethings just don't work out.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Fixer uppers
I'm standing in the middle of my friend Dave's kitchen.
Dave is technically a client but not really. He stays home to talk to me while I clean his place; I'm not sure if I should charge him extra for voyeurism or not charge him at all in exchange for the amateur psychiatry.
So I'm standing in the kitchen and we're pondering my dating status. "Well, what are your prospects?"
"Really none," I answer. " There are a few strays from the last go around but nothing that looks super attractive. Maybe one I could recycle."
"Recycle? Who?"
"Well Rick, but I'm not to sure about that."
"Why not?"
"We've been talking some so I think he might be interested. But I have a bad feeling." Insert Dave's raised eyebrow here. "Well I've told him about all of the crap that been going on lately with my parents, and the car, and health insurance and work and everything and he's really been a great listener. But I kind of feel like he just wants to "fix" me. And I'm not real comfortable with that idea. I'm a grown woman; I don't need fixing or anybody to do it for me."
Dave is twice divorced so he knows better that to dispute whether I do indeed need fixing or not. Instead he goes for the obvious, "Fix all those things yourself. Then go see about him."
As with everything in my life the advice and learning experiences are non sequitur. Sometimes I even need to be told twice. Things can break or be fixed without my knowledge.
Dave is technically a client but not really. He stays home to talk to me while I clean his place; I'm not sure if I should charge him extra for voyeurism or not charge him at all in exchange for the amateur psychiatry.
So I'm standing in the kitchen and we're pondering my dating status. "Well, what are your prospects?"
"Really none," I answer. " There are a few strays from the last go around but nothing that looks super attractive. Maybe one I could recycle."
"Recycle? Who?"
"Well Rick, but I'm not to sure about that."
"Why not?"
"We've been talking some so I think he might be interested. But I have a bad feeling." Insert Dave's raised eyebrow here. "Well I've told him about all of the crap that been going on lately with my parents, and the car, and health insurance and work and everything and he's really been a great listener. But I kind of feel like he just wants to "fix" me. And I'm not real comfortable with that idea. I'm a grown woman; I don't need fixing or anybody to do it for me."
Dave is twice divorced so he knows better that to dispute whether I do indeed need fixing or not. Instead he goes for the obvious, "Fix all those things yourself. Then go see about him."
As with everything in my life the advice and learning experiences are non sequitur. Sometimes I even need to be told twice. Things can break or be fixed without my knowledge.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Do you check your self-esteem at the door?
Alan Baker also ran an ad in the dating cesspool. He simply stated that he was a big goofball who really hated dating. So I answered in late August.
There was only one thing wrong with him "as far as I could tell"-he was merely separated from his wife. A detail I usually try to avoid. Notice I say "usually." But he does expand on the idea-separated as in another state.
It's slow moving at first. It takes a week of e-mailing back and forth and then he suggests chat. I secretly have to install an instant messenger- the things we'll do for a date. The chat is good but come on here; not looking for a pen pal either. He appears to be one of the most timid, shy men ever. And his soon to be ex-wife has clearly broken him.
Sometimes I think my entire purpose in life is to fix things. Even my business involves fixing things to some extent. Men are no different. Sadly once I've screwed their heads back on straight, they leave me. They don't need me anymore. Nearly all of my fixer-uppers marry the woman they date after me. There are few exceptions to this rule-one is on the suspicion list and one I'm trying to get back.
Anyways back to Alan. After typing my finger to little nubs I realize that if we're going to ever meet face to face I'm going to have to take charge. So I take a shower and then get on IM. The conversation goes as usual; a lot of flirting and silly banter but he's still not asking me out. While chatting I quickly compose an e-mail. Simple and to the point. Meet me at the Starbucks in 30 minutes or we're not chatting anymore.
In thirty minutes I see him loitering outside. He's much taller and much goofier than I had pictured. He's 36 going on about 14 and he's so self conscious he's got me looking at my shoes too. We get our coffee and begin an aimless walk through downtown. He's smart and really charming once the shyness wears off. He was married for 15 years and she wrecked him. Eventually we sit down on a bench under the guise of people watching. A quick meeting turns into a few hours and I realize while I'm sitting there that I do really like this geek. "What are you thinking about?" he questions, "you've got a funny look on your face." I smile and say nothing but turn myself so that my feet are between his and our knees touch. This is Rick's advice- for I was told that on our first few dates my body language was not good. It didn't appear that I was interested he said because my feet pointed away from him. Alan smiles a goofy smile. It would be the beginning of what I thought would be something.
A few weeks forward- I'm on my way to Alan's when Rick calls. We chat our usual chat work, family, seeing anyone? The tale of Alan begins. This is one of the few times Rick properly identifies me as happy. "You love him don't you?" And I try to lie. "You do. In fact you've already told him. How does this work?" Don't be silly I say, that would be insane. And mumble but true under my breath. We talk so long I actually arrive at Alan's while still talking to Rick. "Do I need to let you go?" No, Alan's cool and you're my friend. We chat for a few more minutes but I can tell he's uncomfortable with the idea. "It's good to hear you're happy," he says as he ends the conversation.
I look up and Alan is there watching me, "It's good to see that you do have a few friends to talk to."
Alan and I have dinner and he returns to his computer to finish his never ending work that he continually brings home. I crash on the couch-still in his line of sight- to read. I love to read but the book just isn't holding my interest. Soon I'm lost in my own thoughts of blue eyes and a gorgeous smile and what he would have said if I had ever told him that I loved him. "what are you thinking about?" Alan says "because you've got that funny look on your face again."
Alan and I would last only 6 weeks. we would never have a fight and I wouldn't see the end coming. The last thing I ever said to him in person was I love you.
It would come in the form of a short, terse email. My things are in a box on the porch. He's leaving the country for a while and doesn't know when he'll return. He has some things to fix for himself. Don't wait.
And as happy as I was the previous week now I am sad. I make the 30 minute drive to retrieve the dreaded cardboard box. There's no note inside, no reason, no apology just a big box of broken heart.
There's really only one person I really want to be with when this happens (as it all too frequently does). He knows that I've been crying, as he always does. And probably know the exact nature of my distress before he says he'll meet me at the local bar.
I never cry in front of him. That's one of our problems I think; he needs to see me vulnerable and I've just never been able to give into that. So we drink and he listens. And when my story comes to an end with my usual, "Why do I always have to fix them so that they can leave me?"
And the answer is brutal. "What do you do with these men? Check your self esteem at the door? I don't understand how you keep letting this happen."
There was only one thing wrong with him "as far as I could tell"-he was merely separated from his wife. A detail I usually try to avoid. Notice I say "usually." But he does expand on the idea-separated as in another state.
It's slow moving at first. It takes a week of e-mailing back and forth and then he suggests chat. I secretly have to install an instant messenger- the things we'll do for a date. The chat is good but come on here; not looking for a pen pal either. He appears to be one of the most timid, shy men ever. And his soon to be ex-wife has clearly broken him.
Sometimes I think my entire purpose in life is to fix things. Even my business involves fixing things to some extent. Men are no different. Sadly once I've screwed their heads back on straight, they leave me. They don't need me anymore. Nearly all of my fixer-uppers marry the woman they date after me. There are few exceptions to this rule-one is on the suspicion list and one I'm trying to get back.
Anyways back to Alan. After typing my finger to little nubs I realize that if we're going to ever meet face to face I'm going to have to take charge. So I take a shower and then get on IM. The conversation goes as usual; a lot of flirting and silly banter but he's still not asking me out. While chatting I quickly compose an e-mail. Simple and to the point. Meet me at the Starbucks in 30 minutes or we're not chatting anymore.
In thirty minutes I see him loitering outside. He's much taller and much goofier than I had pictured. He's 36 going on about 14 and he's so self conscious he's got me looking at my shoes too. We get our coffee and begin an aimless walk through downtown. He's smart and really charming once the shyness wears off. He was married for 15 years and she wrecked him. Eventually we sit down on a bench under the guise of people watching. A quick meeting turns into a few hours and I realize while I'm sitting there that I do really like this geek. "What are you thinking about?" he questions, "you've got a funny look on your face." I smile and say nothing but turn myself so that my feet are between his and our knees touch. This is Rick's advice- for I was told that on our first few dates my body language was not good. It didn't appear that I was interested he said because my feet pointed away from him. Alan smiles a goofy smile. It would be the beginning of what I thought would be something.
A few weeks forward- I'm on my way to Alan's when Rick calls. We chat our usual chat work, family, seeing anyone? The tale of Alan begins. This is one of the few times Rick properly identifies me as happy. "You love him don't you?" And I try to lie. "You do. In fact you've already told him. How does this work?" Don't be silly I say, that would be insane. And mumble but true under my breath. We talk so long I actually arrive at Alan's while still talking to Rick. "Do I need to let you go?" No, Alan's cool and you're my friend. We chat for a few more minutes but I can tell he's uncomfortable with the idea. "It's good to hear you're happy," he says as he ends the conversation.
I look up and Alan is there watching me, "It's good to see that you do have a few friends to talk to."
Alan and I have dinner and he returns to his computer to finish his never ending work that he continually brings home. I crash on the couch-still in his line of sight- to read. I love to read but the book just isn't holding my interest. Soon I'm lost in my own thoughts of blue eyes and a gorgeous smile and what he would have said if I had ever told him that I loved him. "what are you thinking about?" Alan says "because you've got that funny look on your face again."
Alan and I would last only 6 weeks. we would never have a fight and I wouldn't see the end coming. The last thing I ever said to him in person was I love you.
It would come in the form of a short, terse email. My things are in a box on the porch. He's leaving the country for a while and doesn't know when he'll return. He has some things to fix for himself. Don't wait.
And as happy as I was the previous week now I am sad. I make the 30 minute drive to retrieve the dreaded cardboard box. There's no note inside, no reason, no apology just a big box of broken heart.
There's really only one person I really want to be with when this happens (as it all too frequently does). He knows that I've been crying, as he always does. And probably know the exact nature of my distress before he says he'll meet me at the local bar.
I never cry in front of him. That's one of our problems I think; he needs to see me vulnerable and I've just never been able to give into that. So we drink and he listens. And when my story comes to an end with my usual, "Why do I always have to fix them so that they can leave me?"
And the answer is brutal. "What do you do with these men? Check your self esteem at the door? I don't understand how you keep letting this happen."
Monday, July 16, 2007
The Lay's potato chip ad theory of my life
I'm sure everyone is familiar with the the ad campaign for Lay's potato chips. Mistakes in my life are also run by these fine folks; bet you can't make just one. Too many years of college level math means I can't just add to my mistakes too. I'll need some fancy superscript thing to raise them to a whole new level of stupidity.
They say hindsight has 20/20 vision? Yeah and I walk around in my day to day life with 20/400 vision. No really. Look at this.
So a major player in this scenario has swallowed a giant emotional bullet and told me how he feels. And I have had the tact and social grace to squash him like a bug. But I'm trying to do the right thing by Paul. He's great and has never flaked out on me. I rationalize that Rick has had his chances (and his screw ups) and it's only "fair."
But I'm still worried about this when I go for my next haircut. And any woman can tell you, the person who cuts your hair has some sort of truth serum in their shampoo. I'm there all of 15 minutes and Kurt is completely caught up on what you know as episodes one and two. And as usual he's deadly accurate with his advice (or so I think).
"Do you really need to decide between these two? I mean Rick is known for disappearing from your life. He's come and gone 5 or 6 times that I know of. Forget about the whole thing. Decide? He's not even going to be able to decide to call you back."
And it sounds logical. I'm wasting all my time "choosing" but I really only have one option. There is only one guy trying to be my "boyfriend" at this point.
And my hair looks fabulous.
Anyone who knows anything about me is now waiting for the other shoe to fall. I own 50 or so pairs (yes Rick- your closet isn't the only one with a secret) so it's dammed near inevitable that the other shoe fall. I got my haircut on a Tuesday. So this shoe falls on Wednesday night. And kicks me in the ass.
The phone rings. And it's the one we've decided won't call back. "Did you decide anything in your thoughts over the last week?" is virtually the first thing he says. So much for cut, color and foil hi-lights. So I try to hedge the question. Which is not at all possible with Rick. He sees through all of my crap. All the time. It's pretty irritating other than he's really surprisingly accurate- kind of like he knows me or something. Pfft.
So back to the fire. "Decide? well....umm...no" "No decision?????" And then in a blathering speed, trying to convey some sense of certainty-Well I didn't really think I had to decide. I mean you usually don't call back. The last time I decided I never heard from you again. I didn't think you'd call.
"Oh." and then a long pause to count to a hundred to keep from reaching through the phone and smacking me. "You didn't think I'd call." Sounds like someone who is calling expecting a yes or no answer- not the deflating- I haven't bother to consider it I just handed him. So I've dug a big hole here. But never fear, I still have that same shovel. And now, with great gusto, am going to dig an even deeper hole for myself over the next hour. Because not deciding about what may be "the one" isn't really a big life changing event. No, let's really insult the poor guy so he never returns your calls again.
So I throw the book at him: you don't call when you say you will, I never know when I'll see you again, you're seeing other people (why do I say other people? it's other women I'm sure) blah, blah, blah. And he listens. "Is that really what you think?" Okay so maybe I'm being a bit harsh here in my sales pitch (to myself) but mostly. "Really? You think I'm inattentive?" Well you never call when you say you will. which is an out and out lie- somewhere Verizon has a record of a $500 phone bill from when we first dated. He likes to talk on his drive home from work. And he knows it- he offered to pay the bill when it came. But by then we had begun our first drift and I would have walked over hot coals before asking him to pay my phone bill. But back to the matter at hand- I'm insulting him.
I throw in more about how I don't think he's serious about this and whatever. Sorry- this part isn't so fresh in my mind. Somehow the mistakes don't focus well in my memory.
We talk for probably an hour and at one point I'm crying, which I don't think he realizes (but when I don't think he realized he always does- so what do I know?) when he realizes that the conversation is beyond my control, he does what I see as a merciful thing. He lets me off the hook. "If you have something good going with Paul I don't want to mess you up. Stay where you're at. I just want you to be happy."
He says that a lot- the whole I just want you to be happy. It's harder for me than most people. He knows that. He has little frame of reference for what my happy looks like. But he has seen it. The craziest thing is that he's the first person I want to call when I'm my unhappiest.
They say hindsight has 20/20 vision? Yeah and I walk around in my day to day life with 20/400 vision. No really. Look at this.
So a major player in this scenario has swallowed a giant emotional bullet and told me how he feels. And I have had the tact and social grace to squash him like a bug. But I'm trying to do the right thing by Paul. He's great and has never flaked out on me. I rationalize that Rick has had his chances (and his screw ups) and it's only "fair."
But I'm still worried about this when I go for my next haircut. And any woman can tell you, the person who cuts your hair has some sort of truth serum in their shampoo. I'm there all of 15 minutes and Kurt is completely caught up on what you know as episodes one and two. And as usual he's deadly accurate with his advice (or so I think).
"Do you really need to decide between these two? I mean Rick is known for disappearing from your life. He's come and gone 5 or 6 times that I know of. Forget about the whole thing. Decide? He's not even going to be able to decide to call you back."
And it sounds logical. I'm wasting all my time "choosing" but I really only have one option. There is only one guy trying to be my "boyfriend" at this point.
And my hair looks fabulous.
Anyone who knows anything about me is now waiting for the other shoe to fall. I own 50 or so pairs (yes Rick- your closet isn't the only one with a secret) so it's dammed near inevitable that the other shoe fall. I got my haircut on a Tuesday. So this shoe falls on Wednesday night. And kicks me in the ass.
The phone rings. And it's the one we've decided won't call back. "Did you decide anything in your thoughts over the last week?" is virtually the first thing he says. So much for cut, color and foil hi-lights. So I try to hedge the question. Which is not at all possible with Rick. He sees through all of my crap. All the time. It's pretty irritating other than he's really surprisingly accurate- kind of like he knows me or something. Pfft.
So back to the fire. "Decide? well....umm...no" "No decision?????" And then in a blathering speed, trying to convey some sense of certainty-Well I didn't really think I had to decide. I mean you usually don't call back. The last time I decided I never heard from you again. I didn't think you'd call.
"Oh." and then a long pause to count to a hundred to keep from reaching through the phone and smacking me. "You didn't think I'd call." Sounds like someone who is calling expecting a yes or no answer- not the deflating- I haven't bother to consider it I just handed him. So I've dug a big hole here. But never fear, I still have that same shovel. And now, with great gusto, am going to dig an even deeper hole for myself over the next hour. Because not deciding about what may be "the one" isn't really a big life changing event. No, let's really insult the poor guy so he never returns your calls again.
So I throw the book at him: you don't call when you say you will, I never know when I'll see you again, you're seeing other people (why do I say other people? it's other women I'm sure) blah, blah, blah. And he listens. "Is that really what you think?" Okay so maybe I'm being a bit harsh here in my sales pitch (to myself) but mostly. "Really? You think I'm inattentive?" Well you never call when you say you will. which is an out and out lie- somewhere Verizon has a record of a $500 phone bill from when we first dated. He likes to talk on his drive home from work. And he knows it- he offered to pay the bill when it came. But by then we had begun our first drift and I would have walked over hot coals before asking him to pay my phone bill. But back to the matter at hand- I'm insulting him.
I throw in more about how I don't think he's serious about this and whatever. Sorry- this part isn't so fresh in my mind. Somehow the mistakes don't focus well in my memory.
We talk for probably an hour and at one point I'm crying, which I don't think he realizes (but when I don't think he realized he always does- so what do I know?) when he realizes that the conversation is beyond my control, he does what I see as a merciful thing. He lets me off the hook. "If you have something good going with Paul I don't want to mess you up. Stay where you're at. I just want you to be happy."
He says that a lot- the whole I just want you to be happy. It's harder for me than most people. He knows that. He has little frame of reference for what my happy looks like. But he has seen it. The craziest thing is that he's the first person I want to call when I'm my unhappiest.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Okay so far it's screwed up; now what do you do?
Well as anyone who's ever seen a Laurel & Hardy movie knows: every action is followed by an equal and opposite reaction. Thus begins my comedy of errors that puts me in this seat today.
So I wander home; bawling the whole way-okay so it's like 2 miles but give me a break. Somewhere in my mind I think that talking to Paul will make me feel better. So I sit, in this same seat, and start the late night ritual of IM'ing. He has no clue of my current freak-out state. And he cannot in any way, shape or form make me feel better. In fact I feel much worse. I have cheating guilt for a cheat that only happened in my heart. The worst cheating guilt ever.
I was raised Catholic; we have the market cornered on guilt. For a while after I distanced myself from their ideology my motto was, "Guilt is an emotion I refuse to possess." It works well you just have to avoid doing stupid stuff that you'll regret the next day. It does not take into account these sorts of situations however.
So I had my super-sized helping of guilt and no one to confide it in. So I chewed on it.
All day Thursday- my job requires no brain- and therefore leaves lots of time for me to wander around with my thoughts. This was not helping me any.
I decided to drive to see Paul. I had no idea of what I was going to say but I had nearly two hours to come up with it as I drove across mid-Michigan. I seriously wondered why I had bothered to pack a change of clothes about midway through the trip. Someone's "I love you" had taken hold of my brain. I had wanted to hear him say it for so long. But when I finally heard it my knee-jerk reaction was that it wasn't packaged prettily. I am such a girl sometimes. So I was working on what should have been my breakup speech. And its counterpart to Rick that would come later. It was dark and snowy. And just as I was turning onto Paul's street there was that disgusting sound that never leaves your mind. The screech of tires and an explosion of glass inside my car.
It wasn't one of those where your life flashes before your eyes. But it was one of those that made you say, "Holy shit" when you finally did get out of the car.
I sat there for a moment and realized that the radio was still playing. I was nearly pinned in my seat. I thought for a moment about who I wanted to call. Rick was 110 miles away (and might not answer). Paul won by proximity. I didn't really know how bad it was until I saw the look on his face.
I was okay though, or at least I kept telling myself. I was banged up and bruised and had almost the whole drivers door of glass in my hair but I was lucky. And in a few moments I convinced myself I was lucky to have such a great guy to come get me.
The real lies came when people started asking me what had happened. You can't exactly tell people that you nearly died because you were distracted by someone's unexpected declaration of their innermost feelings. well, I guess you could but ...
So there was no break-up. Mr Wonderful took care of me; drove me for a rental car, retrieved my crap from the salvage yard where my car had been towed (He said he didn't want me to have to see that again) and in general acted like his wonderful self. And for a moment I forgot.
But the phone would ring and the caller id would say a different name and there I was- giddy like a school girl again. He started out by saying that he guessed he owed me an apology. Which made me question if he remembered what he had even said. In my mind we now had- I love you, I'm sorry. which was even slightly more confusing than the original sentiment. so I danced around the subject for a few minutes. He really didn't know what he had said. But he did know I was questioning it. After some wheedling he managed to get it out of me-"Well you told me that you love me and then proposed."
And then there was silence.
The sheepish voice recanted. No; he wasn't in love with me. But he could see himself being in love with me. He always wondered why "we" never worked out. Logically there's no reason. we hemmed and hawed in our usual respective roles until it was obvious "the thing" had reappeared.
"The thing" is like a 600 lb gorilla in our relationship. We've always had it; it took us more than two years to identify it and now that I think I can squash it- I'm blogging.
A lifelong engineer and a woman referred to as the Ice Princess probably aren't the most typical romantic leads. But the attraction is as real as "the thing." The attraction has been noticed by others- we keep "the thing" under wraps because we're not admitting to it yet.
So in the midst of this tell me how you really feel conversation the question of "the thing" comes up. But this time the difference is that I know what it is now. It's fear. We are afraid I say. And for a moment more silence and then the question," so all we need to do is decide that what we have to gain is much greater than what we could lose?"
It was quite possibly better than hearing I love you. But I sat there like an idiot. He asked to come see me and to talk and foolishly I said no- the house was too dirty. "Do you really think I'm coming to see the house?" But stubborness won out and I laid in bed and replayed the conversation in my mind a few dozen times.
So I wander home; bawling the whole way-okay so it's like 2 miles but give me a break. Somewhere in my mind I think that talking to Paul will make me feel better. So I sit, in this same seat, and start the late night ritual of IM'ing. He has no clue of my current freak-out state. And he cannot in any way, shape or form make me feel better. In fact I feel much worse. I have cheating guilt for a cheat that only happened in my heart. The worst cheating guilt ever.
I was raised Catholic; we have the market cornered on guilt. For a while after I distanced myself from their ideology my motto was, "Guilt is an emotion I refuse to possess." It works well you just have to avoid doing stupid stuff that you'll regret the next day. It does not take into account these sorts of situations however.
So I had my super-sized helping of guilt and no one to confide it in. So I chewed on it.
All day Thursday- my job requires no brain- and therefore leaves lots of time for me to wander around with my thoughts. This was not helping me any.
I decided to drive to see Paul. I had no idea of what I was going to say but I had nearly two hours to come up with it as I drove across mid-Michigan. I seriously wondered why I had bothered to pack a change of clothes about midway through the trip. Someone's "I love you" had taken hold of my brain. I had wanted to hear him say it for so long. But when I finally heard it my knee-jerk reaction was that it wasn't packaged prettily. I am such a girl sometimes. So I was working on what should have been my breakup speech. And its counterpart to Rick that would come later. It was dark and snowy. And just as I was turning onto Paul's street there was that disgusting sound that never leaves your mind. The screech of tires and an explosion of glass inside my car.
It wasn't one of those where your life flashes before your eyes. But it was one of those that made you say, "Holy shit" when you finally did get out of the car.
I sat there for a moment and realized that the radio was still playing. I was nearly pinned in my seat. I thought for a moment about who I wanted to call. Rick was 110 miles away (and might not answer). Paul won by proximity. I didn't really know how bad it was until I saw the look on his face.
I was okay though, or at least I kept telling myself. I was banged up and bruised and had almost the whole drivers door of glass in my hair but I was lucky. And in a few moments I convinced myself I was lucky to have such a great guy to come get me.
The real lies came when people started asking me what had happened. You can't exactly tell people that you nearly died because you were distracted by someone's unexpected declaration of their innermost feelings. well, I guess you could but ...
So there was no break-up. Mr Wonderful took care of me; drove me for a rental car, retrieved my crap from the salvage yard where my car had been towed (He said he didn't want me to have to see that again) and in general acted like his wonderful self. And for a moment I forgot.
But the phone would ring and the caller id would say a different name and there I was- giddy like a school girl again. He started out by saying that he guessed he owed me an apology. Which made me question if he remembered what he had even said. In my mind we now had- I love you, I'm sorry. which was even slightly more confusing than the original sentiment. so I danced around the subject for a few minutes. He really didn't know what he had said. But he did know I was questioning it. After some wheedling he managed to get it out of me-"Well you told me that you love me and then proposed."
And then there was silence.
The sheepish voice recanted. No; he wasn't in love with me. But he could see himself being in love with me. He always wondered why "we" never worked out. Logically there's no reason. we hemmed and hawed in our usual respective roles until it was obvious "the thing" had reappeared.
"The thing" is like a 600 lb gorilla in our relationship. We've always had it; it took us more than two years to identify it and now that I think I can squash it- I'm blogging.
A lifelong engineer and a woman referred to as the Ice Princess probably aren't the most typical romantic leads. But the attraction is as real as "the thing." The attraction has been noticed by others- we keep "the thing" under wraps because we're not admitting to it yet.
So in the midst of this tell me how you really feel conversation the question of "the thing" comes up. But this time the difference is that I know what it is now. It's fear. We are afraid I say. And for a moment more silence and then the question," so all we need to do is decide that what we have to gain is much greater than what we could lose?"
It was quite possibly better than hearing I love you. But I sat there like an idiot. He asked to come see me and to talk and foolishly I said no- the house was too dirty. "Do you really think I'm coming to see the house?" But stubborness won out and I laid in bed and replayed the conversation in my mind a few dozen times.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Good grief
For those of you who are keeping track, today I am 34 1/2 yrs old. Bummer. I've been toying with the blog idea for a couple weeks now. Nothing makes you want to anonymously chat up your life on the internet like a small life meltdown. Here's today's (besides my impending old age that is).
If you know me IRL, you know I'm on enough dating websites to satisfy a New York socialite. Currently we have two front-runners (but today they're not important). Not being really too keen on either of them-one appears to have no time to actually see me and the other appears to be happy being my pen-pal and calling at odd hours of the night. So I logged onto my usual dating cesspool and read todays dose of boring e-mails. Then I went to see who's viewed me. Usually it's a freakshow; people who have eyeballed my profile but haven't winked or e-mailed. Today, right there on the first page, is the one who got away.
I was sure of it without reading any of the text.
I would recognize him anywhere.
To tell you where I farked this up we have to back-track some. And I'm sure I've screwed this up with this guy on multiple occasions so bear with me.
Wed January 31 , 2007-
After working an insane 12 hour day I came home and showered. I really wanted a drink but hate drinking alone. How much more depressing can you be? Really? As luck would have it-perhaps the last time I had any luck- the phone rang as I stepped out of the shower. It was him- before he officially became "the one that got away." He wanted to know if I'd meet him for a drink at the local spot just around the corner from my house. I was there in 30 minutes.
At this time I'm dating Paul, a sweet guy who has recently returned to college for his law degree. Names are changed only to protect the innocent so your guess is as good as mine here. But on this day I 'm still wearing my rose colored glasses in the relationship (read as he hasn't handed me my ass yet).
Rick is at the bar in his usual spot. And he looks better than I've seen him look in a while. Seriously hot. And being Rick he's telling me I look hot.
So we talk for a bit and drink. Most things seem normal. There's a reason I say most. This is the first time I've ever agreed to see Rick when I'm happily dating someone else. This is the first time I've gotten to the bar and found him sort of drunk and it's the first time I've ever heard the heard him say the following: "I love you. I'm going to Vegas in May. I want you to come with me and let's get married."
This is where I screw up big time.
He's not mister emotional. He's an engineer for crying out loud. While his words are permanently embedded (we'll have the story on how burned in they are on February 3rd) in my mind what I say next can only be paraphrased at best. Rather than say yes- like any sane woman would. I say no- no as in you don't really love me and you don't really want to marry me. You're drunk-no. And for the next half hour he tries to convince me that he's serious. I remind him that I'm happily seeing someone else. And he asks why I'm here at all then. (He's incredibly smart.) sensing that he isn't going to win the major battle he tries a smaller request- come home with me tonight and I'll ask you again in the morning. While this offer is almost too good to pass up I think of sweet, trusting Paul dutifully studying some 100 miles away and decline. I'm trying to behave here I tell him but he's insistent and staring at me with the most gorgeous blue eyes ever. I'm about to lose this one.
And here's where I break my own heart. I realize that Rick isn't going to back-track on this conversation. I can't change the topic. So I decide it would be safest for me to go home. I've never told him no; it appears that it's impossible for me to actually do so. I put on my coat and grab my purse. Somewhere in the middle of this he's caught me in a hug and is inches from my face. Damm that cologne. And here's the moment; I'm trapped in a hug that represents my complete moral dilemma (with an Atheist for added irony) and the request has dwindled down to just one kiss. "Kiss me once and I'll let you go if that's what you really want." And as his face goes out of focus I turn my head and twist away; the kiss lands somewhere between my cheek and my right ear. I've never told him no before.
I can hear my footfalls on the tile floor as I'm leaving. And I can feel the eyes on the back of my head. But I can't look back. I don't know what look was on in face. I was too cowardly to look but I'm sure the one my mind has put in that spot is only a shadow of what was there.
It's February and it's freezing cold outside the door. It's even colder when you're crying. And I did it to myself.
If you know me IRL, you know I'm on enough dating websites to satisfy a New York socialite. Currently we have two front-runners (but today they're not important). Not being really too keen on either of them-one appears to have no time to actually see me and the other appears to be happy being my pen-pal and calling at odd hours of the night. So I logged onto my usual dating cesspool and read todays dose of boring e-mails. Then I went to see who's viewed me. Usually it's a freakshow; people who have eyeballed my profile but haven't winked or e-mailed. Today, right there on the first page, is the one who got away.
I was sure of it without reading any of the text.
I would recognize him anywhere.
To tell you where I farked this up we have to back-track some. And I'm sure I've screwed this up with this guy on multiple occasions so bear with me.
Wed January 31 , 2007-
After working an insane 12 hour day I came home and showered. I really wanted a drink but hate drinking alone. How much more depressing can you be? Really? As luck would have it-perhaps the last time I had any luck- the phone rang as I stepped out of the shower. It was him- before he officially became "the one that got away." He wanted to know if I'd meet him for a drink at the local spot just around the corner from my house. I was there in 30 minutes.
At this time I'm dating Paul, a sweet guy who has recently returned to college for his law degree. Names are changed only to protect the innocent so your guess is as good as mine here. But on this day I 'm still wearing my rose colored glasses in the relationship (read as he hasn't handed me my ass yet).
Rick is at the bar in his usual spot. And he looks better than I've seen him look in a while. Seriously hot. And being Rick he's telling me I look hot.
So we talk for a bit and drink. Most things seem normal. There's a reason I say most. This is the first time I've ever agreed to see Rick when I'm happily dating someone else. This is the first time I've gotten to the bar and found him sort of drunk and it's the first time I've ever heard the heard him say the following: "I love you. I'm going to Vegas in May. I want you to come with me and let's get married."
This is where I screw up big time.
He's not mister emotional. He's an engineer for crying out loud. While his words are permanently embedded (we'll have the story on how burned in they are on February 3rd) in my mind what I say next can only be paraphrased at best. Rather than say yes- like any sane woman would. I say no- no as in you don't really love me and you don't really want to marry me. You're drunk-no. And for the next half hour he tries to convince me that he's serious. I remind him that I'm happily seeing someone else. And he asks why I'm here at all then. (He's incredibly smart.) sensing that he isn't going to win the major battle he tries a smaller request- come home with me tonight and I'll ask you again in the morning. While this offer is almost too good to pass up I think of sweet, trusting Paul dutifully studying some 100 miles away and decline. I'm trying to behave here I tell him but he's insistent and staring at me with the most gorgeous blue eyes ever. I'm about to lose this one.
And here's where I break my own heart. I realize that Rick isn't going to back-track on this conversation. I can't change the topic. So I decide it would be safest for me to go home. I've never told him no; it appears that it's impossible for me to actually do so. I put on my coat and grab my purse. Somewhere in the middle of this he's caught me in a hug and is inches from my face. Damm that cologne. And here's the moment; I'm trapped in a hug that represents my complete moral dilemma (with an Atheist for added irony) and the request has dwindled down to just one kiss. "Kiss me once and I'll let you go if that's what you really want." And as his face goes out of focus I turn my head and twist away; the kiss lands somewhere between my cheek and my right ear. I've never told him no before.
I can hear my footfalls on the tile floor as I'm leaving. And I can feel the eyes on the back of my head. But I can't look back. I don't know what look was on in face. I was too cowardly to look but I'm sure the one my mind has put in that spot is only a shadow of what was there.
It's February and it's freezing cold outside the door. It's even colder when you're crying. And I did it to myself.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
