Like I said already, there never was a phone call that night.
I kept waiting for it, but it never came.
I had taken a ton of pictures over the weekend, so I spent my time that evening dumping them into an online account that I could send my three weekend camping partners a link to.
I went to bed sad. Unsure of where we stood, or what exactly was going on.
We had been having fun over the weekend, hadn't we?
So where was he now? Why had he suddenly pulled away?
The next day, I got long e-mails from both Mel and Jay thanking me for the pictures and recounting hilarious moments from our little adventure. They were both their warm and welcoming selves. Making me feel as though I was their friend, not just the boys… whatever it was I was.
I heard from the boy eventually as well. Just a quick e-mail, which he copied both Jay and Mel on. He thanked me for the pictures, and then asked for a high definition copy of one that he said he really liked. It was similar to this one:
Except with he and Jay on the dock goofing around, the sky making them basically just shadows up against all that color.
It was a really cool picture, and I remembered liking it myself when I had been going through them all. I was happy he liked it, and happy he wanted a better copy. I sent it off right away, but then didn’t hear from him again.
No phone call. No text. No e-mail. No carrier pigeons.
The next day was exactly the same. We had never before gone even one day without talking. Not when we’d both been in the same town and within cell range at least. And here it was – two days had passed. With no explanation, and no real clue about what was going on.
I tried to keep calm. Tried to remind myself that he just had some things to work through. But… it was hard.
The following day, I got a phone call while I was at work. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but for some reason – I answered anyway.
It was woman. One who’s voice I had never heard before. When I answered, she asked for my name. I reminded her that she had called me, but she repeated again “Will you please just tell me your name?”
So I did.
And she hung up on me.
I immediately panicked. It was one of the strangest phone calls I had ever received.
And my first thought was – it had to have been her. Maybe she had gotten a hold of his cell phone records. Maybe she had seen how much we had been talking. Maybe she already knew he was seeing someone, and had just wanted further proof.
Not that she would have had any right to care really, but… what if?
All I could think was that if she was hesitating about her decision at all, thinking he was seeing someone else might be all it would take for her to come running back.
A thought which honestly, terrified me.
I sent him a text. Broke the silence to explain the call I had just received and ask if there was any possible way she could have gotten a hold of his phone bill.
That made sense, right? If they had once shared a phone plan, it was at least possible she still had access to it.
He called me back right away though, and the first words out of his mouth were “Have you gone completely paranoid?”
He reminded me that his company paid for his cell phone.
That there was no possible way she had gotten a hold of his bill. Or my phone number.
Oh.
It was just a weird phone call.
Nothing more, and nothing less.
Which is pretty much what our conversation resulted in as well. There was no mention of the days we had gone since speaking. No apology or explanation about the disappearing act. He had called me back right away, but our actual conversation was short and not so sweet.
As soon as we established that it had simply been a bizarre wrong number, we got off the phone.
And I deflated.
I started to wonder if maybe I shouldn’t be making it so easy for him to pull away from me. If maybe, just maybe, it was important for me to reach out to him right now.
But I was just so torn on how I should be proceeding.
That night though, when I still hadn’t heard from him, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I had to know where we stood.
And I had to let him know that… I missed him. Even though it had only been a few days; I missed him.
So I sent him one of my signature epically long text messages (something he had at least up to that point, been spared.)
“I know you have a lot on your mind right now, and I really am trying to give you whatever space you need. But I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you. From day one I said that I wanted to be your friend and be able to be there for you above and beyond anything else, and that still holds true… I’m missing talking to you, and feeling kind of shut out. Like I did something wrong? I don’t think it’s really that, but… I am missing you. Take whatever time and space you need, but please just know that I’m here. That I want to be a part of your life, in whatever context works best right now.”
He responded almost right away.
“You are a good friend and good people; I just need some space right now. We can hang out again sometime soon.”
I took a breath, feeling like at least he had responded. And he had confirmed what I already knew – he needed space. It hurt because, it was the first time he had really needed space from me. But I got it. Or at least, I wanted to. So I tried to make it easy for him.
“Alright. Do what you need to do. Just know that I’m here.”
I didn’t expect to hear from him again, but a few minutes later I did.
“You are one of the best things that’s happened to me through all of this. I really mean that. Have a good night.”
I took solace in that. Told myself that eventually, he would come around. He would miss me too. I knew he cared about me. I trusted in that. So for the time being, I just told myself to be patient. To give him the space he needed, knowing full well that in time... he would come back to me.
Still, the prospect of space between us was hard for me to swallow. And so, I started cleaning my house. On a weeknight. When really I should have been crawling into bed.
And at 11:00, as I was just starting in on my bathroom, he called.
He was drunk. I could tell that almost right away. Not wasted, but not sober either.
He said he had been dropped off outside my house.
He asked if he could come in.
If he could stay the night.
At this point, I was torn. Still hurt over the separation he had put between us, but also – elated to see him.
I of course told him to come up. It turned out he had been at a BBQ with one of his friends, and they had gone out drinking after. From the sounds of it, they had gone out drinking the previous two nights as well. For some reason though, rather than going to his buddies house to sleep it off that night, he had decided he wanted to see me.
He began a story by telling me "Girls are stupid", and proceeded to describe some of the girls that had hit on them in the bar that night. I couldn’t figure out why he was telling me this. He was adamant that they had annoyed him; that they weren’t me, but… I couldn’t figure out why he thought I needed to hear about it at all.
I was finishing cleaning up the bathroom and know I was being short with him. I was suddenly feeling so guarded about the whole thing.
Finally, after being more or less ignored, he said "Thanks for being so great." To which I'm pretty sure I just shrugged. So he said it again "No, really - you're great."
Then he started laughing and said "You have got to be wondering where the heck you picked up this guy, huh? I mean, how did you get stuck with all this baggage?"
I was looking at him, trying to figure out where this was coming from. What my reaction was supposed to be. Did he really think for even one second that I didn’t want to be with him?
I told him that everyone has baggage, and then I reminded him of some of my own as I crawled into bed next to him.
He told me that I was one of the strongest people he had ever met, and that he wasn’t sure he was strong like me.
Again, I didn’t know how to respond.
So instead I just curled up, and let him cuddle next to me.
I thought we were well on our way to sleep, when suddenly he said "Please don't let me sleep with you anymore."
I was speechless. Hadn't we just had the most amazing sex this weekend? Outside, in the rain, unable to keep our hands off each other? Mind blowing, toe curling, the stuff that fantasy's are made of sex?
That had only been just a few days before, hadn't it?
But in the back of my head, I knew that taking sex out of the equation was probably for the best. I wasn’t sure where any of this was coming from, but I did know that if he had any hesitation at all about what he wanted from me – we shouldn’t be sleeping together. So I told him not to worry, that I had already decided to take that off the table.
To which he responded "Good. Your text message tonight made me sad. I don't like that you like me."
Suddenly I was mad. And hurt. And irritated. I flipped around quickly to face him and told him how stupid that was. Reminded him that he had put me in the position to care. That every step of the way, he had pursued me. I reminded him that every moment we had spent together had been at his insistence. That of course I cared about him, but that he had guided everything we had become.
His response slapped me in the face a bit. He said he knew that he had pushed for us to be more, but reminded me that when he initially called me that first time, we both knew that it had been solely because he needed a rebound. He said he had just never counted on me being so great. On his liking me so much. And that now, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. What he was supposed to want.
I stopped again. Took a deep breath, and tried to remind myself to stay calm. Then I reminded him that I had never asked anything of him. Nothing more than honesty. I reminded him that I’m not the one who had put any pressure on us. That at the end of the day, I just knew I cared about him and enjoyed spending time with him.
At which point, he looked at me with puppy dog eyes and said, "I care about you and enjoy spending time with you too."
But then, he started talking about her again. About how in love with her he still was. How he was still torn up by the whole thing, and with the date of the divorce actually approaching and her making contact the way she had - it had him even more confused.
He said he was worried about me getting hurt. About my feelings for him, and what that would mean if at the end of the day – he just couldn’t get over her. If all we could ever really be was friends.
I reminded him again that of course I liked him, and that I wasn't going to lie about my feelings for him. Or pretend they weren’t there just so that he wouldn’t have to worry about me. But I told him that if all we could ever be was friends - well, I had maintained friendships with some of the men from my past who I had loved. I could certainly do it with him.
At this point, it was almost 1 in the morning. I had been facing him in bed as we talked, but ended up turning around so that we could both just go to sleep. He didn't say a word, but he curled up behind me and wrapped his arms around me where he stayed attached until we had to get up for work in the morning.
I heard from him that day when he called to thank me for listening to him the night before. And then again when he forwarded me some e-mail he seemed to think was funny.
And then that night, he called. Wanting to come over again.
He showed up on my doorstep with a bottle of booze in hand.
I realized then that he had been drinking every single night since she first sent that text.
But I didn’t say anything.
Friday night he went to a Bachelor party. I had known he was going, and hadn’t expected to hear from him at all that evening. He ended up texting me at 3 in the morning though, just to tell me he was thinking of me. As soon as I responded, he called. Said he just wanted to hear my voice.
All the guys from the party were staying together at a cabin a fair distance away. He was drunk, but this wasn’t a booty call. Just, apparently, him thinking of me.
I heard from him the next day as he was heading to a wedding with some of his friends. I remember being hurt that he hadn’t asked me to be his date, but then I had reminded myself… I had no idea where we stood right now. And I knew that attending this wedding had been a last minute decision on his part.
It would be the first since the demise of his own marriage.
I heard from him again just before midnight. He was asking if I could come pick him up. I had just been crawling into bed, but figured I could go get him if he needed a sober ride.
I just hadn’t counted on him being so far away.
It turned out that after the wedding, the party had headed in the opposite direction from town. He was more than an hour away from me at this point.
Tucked away in the valley.
But when he called, I could hear how drunk he was. And when he said he was there at the bar by himself, and that the friend he had been hanging out with at the wedding had left with his girlfriend over an hour ago – I was worried.
I knew he was pretty much out in the middle of nowhere. That even getting a cab to his own place would cost a few hundred dollars at least. And I knew he was drunk. By himself, and drunk.
I was worried.
So, I got in the car and went to pick him up. In the pouring rain. Past midnight. Out in the valley.
He called me when I was about half-way there to see how far I was, and I started talking to him. Just trying to ensure he stayed in one place and didn’t get himself into any trouble.
Which is when he said it.
"I love you."
And I said "Oh my hell."
I’m not kidding. That was my reaction.
He started laughing before drunkenly replying "I know. I just dropped the first legit L-bomb. And I meant it too. That wasn't an 'I want to sleep with you' L-bomb. That was an 'I seriously love you' L-bomb."
I couldn’t stop laughing at this point, so I pointed out that he was drunk and that I would be there soon. I begged him to stay out of trouble, and then we got off the phone.
When I got to the bar, he came barreling out to meet me. Swept me up in a giant hug right outside the doors like I was his favorite person in the entire world.
And then, he said it again.
I again made mention of his less than sober condition. But he just looked at me and said "No, I mean it. And you know what? You love me too.”
In my head, I wanted to deny it.
But in my heart… I knew I couldn’t.
So I just didn’t say anything at all.
We walked to my car with him draped all over me and began driving to his house (a half an hour away, versus the hour plus going to my place would have taken).
As soon as we were driving, he reached out and started holding my hand. Began telling me about the girls in the bar who had taken care of him until I had gotten there. He said he had told them all about me. That they had even given him advice, and told him not to let me go.
Then he said "I was thinking about you all night."
I had to laugh, before reminding him that lately – he only to seemed to be thinking of me when he was drunk.
But he protested. "That's not true!” he argued. “I think about you all the time. I think about you more than I should. You are always on my mind. I've never gotten so close to anyone as fast as I have to you. You have become one of my best friends, and I am always thinking about you."
Again, I stayed silent. As he moved the chair back to fall asleep – never once letting go of my hand.
When we finally made it to his house, we both brushed our teeth and got ready for bed.
And then - he stripped down naked and crawled in beside me.
Completely naked.
He cuddled up next to me and started trying to convince me that my getting naked would be a good idea as well. But I turned him down pretty quickly. Reminded him that just a few days before, he had basically told me I was never meant to be anything more than a rebound. I also reminded him of his request for us to stop sleeping together, and his insistence that maybe we should just stick to being friends.
He got all serious. Looked me in the eye and said "I like you. As more than a friend. You know I like you. No matter what I say, you know I like you. And now I guess you know I love you too. But right now, I just don’t know how to trust in anything we've got."
Then he started talking about sex. Explaining how weird it was for him, still, to be sleeping with someone who wasn’t her. To be sleeping with anyone who wasn’t her. He said there were so many emotions surrounding the whole thing that he really did just have a hard time explaining it. Or even figuring out what it was he really wanted.
But he knew one thing for sure – he cared about me. He didn’t want to see me getting hurt, and he didn’t want to lose me.
At this point, through all the talking, I had managed to convince him that sleeping together now probably wasn’t the best idea. Instead we just cuddled up in bed, with him holding on tightly as he seemed to be doing so often lately.
Like he was afraid I was going to disappear on him in the middle of the night or something.
Just when I was sure he had finally fallen asleep though, he stirred.
And then he said “I know you think it’s because I’m drunk, but it’s not. I love you. And you love me too.”
I pretended to be asleep.
His final divorce date was a little over a week away.
At that point, we would be just shy of having spent 2 months together.
Only days before he had expressed serious concerns about where it was we were heading.
Yet here he was, telling me he loved me.
And there I was, believing him.
(to be continued…)
