He said he would stay away.
He promised.
But not 15 minutes later, he was calling.
Still a mess, and knowing only that he had caused this; I didn't answer.
Which is when he texted "Please call me back. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen."
I didn't respond. He called again, and I didn't answer. So again, he texted "Will you please answer so I can explain myself to you."
I couldn’t figure out what there was to explain.
Hadn’t he already said it all?
I wiped the tears away for long enough to pen my response "I really can't talk right now. I'm sorry. I'm not mad, I promise. I'm just hurt, and confused, and embarrassed, and sad. You listening to me cry on the phone is not going to help that. I know you never meant to hurt me. I just need some space."
And then, I turned off my phone.
The truth is, I really wasn’t mad. Not at him anyway. I was definitely hurt, but not mad. Regardless of what he had meant by that comment, I knew he had never intended to hurt me. That he likely hadn’t thought at all before he spoke. This was who he was after all. I knew who he was.
So if I had anyone to be angry at, it was myself.
I had known going into this that it wouldn’t be easy. I had entered this relationship fully aware that it would be a roller coaster. I had made my choices.
And I had let myself fall in love with him.
Which in this moment, I couldn’t quite explain.
All I knew was that I felt so unwanted and discarded that I couldn’t breathe.
I was literally having a hard time coming up out of my grief and heartache for air.
How had I let this happen? How had I allowed myself to become so caught up in someone who could so easily take my feelings for granted?
I’ll tell you how – everything else was right.
The way we laughed together. The hours we could spend talking about nothing. Or more importantly, the hours we could spend talking about everything. The things we had in common. The futures we wanted. The way we had eased right into each other's lives.
It all fit. In so many ways, he was the man I had been waiting for.
Wasn’t he?
Had I been crazy to imagine he felt the same for me as I did him?
Or just stupid?
It didn’t matter now though. In my heart, I knew that.
He’d crossed a line. We wouldn’t be going back anytime soon.
We couldn't.
I woke up the next morning resigned to that fact. And thankful that in just two days, I would be getting on a plane and leaving town. Going to visit Arizona, and LA, and San Diego. Spending time with my family and closest friends.
Regrouping in a way I knew I could only do there.
The timing of this trip could not have been any better.
But before I could leave, I had to put a final nail in the coffin of our relationship. I had to close the door.
So, I wrote about it here. I broke my silence on the boy, and I shared the story of our demise. The abbreviated version of course, but still... I accepted defeat.
I declared our relationship over.
And when I left Alaska, I did so determined to leave him behind as well.
That trip turned out to be exactly what I needed. First submerging myself in family for the wedding, I had no choice but to turn my focus on that. I wasn’t able to waste time thinking about him.
It was perfect.
As soon as the wedding was over, I hopped in a car with an old friend for a road trip to see some of my nearest and dearest. And yes, we definitely dished a bit about the boy and what had been said, but mostly we just caught up. Laughed. Drank. And then came back to the house to waste the night away playing board games.
Again, exactly what I had needed.
From there, I flew to LA to spend some time with the devirginator.
Who, it should be noted, was ready to fly to Alaska and take the boy out himself.
The DV had never been all that fond of the guys I dated (most of whom were meaningless wastes of time that I myself never had any real desire to keep around), but… I’d never seen him have so much hatred for any of them either.
It was kind of nice. Knowing there was someone out there who wanted to protect me. A man from my past who never in a million years would have dreamed to speak the same words to me the boy had.
We spent our days together eating, and going to Disneyland, and watching random episodes of 1001 ways to die. We didn’t talk much about the boy. Mostly because I knew the DV was already heated, and there was this strange part of me that still felt the need to protect the boy. I didn’t want anyone hating him. But I also didn’t know how to explain his actions either.
So instead, I just focused my attention on spending this time with the DV. Getting back to myself in a way I only could with him. Finding my “normal” again.
If we're being honest about history though, it's fair to acknowledge that once upon a time the DV hurt me too. Sure, we were only kids. And he has made those years we stupidly tried to be more than friends up to me 1000 times over in the kind of friend he has been since. But, that is only because I forgave him. Or because... we forgave each other.
Our friendship is what it is today because once upon a time – we both let go of the past.
And that fact was not lost on me as I healed in his presence.
I wasn’t sure what the future held for the boy and I, but I was sure that I hadn’t heard the last of him.
Even then, I couldn’t shake the confidence I still had in his feelings for me.
Yes, he had crossed a line. And yes, he had taken me and my feelings monumentally for granted.
And even more than either of those, he had directly told me that he had no feelings for me beyond friendship.
Twice now.
But, I didn’t believe it. I still didn’t believe it. Not entirely anyway. Even after all of that, I believed in my heart that the boy loved me. I had seen the way he looked at me. I knew the bond we shared. I trusted in the things he said about me when I wasn’t around. And the things he said to me when he let those walls break down.
I believed he loved me.
And in time, I believed he would come around again.
At which point, it would be up to me to decide what direction, if any, we headed in from there.
I thought it would be a while though. Hadn’t I predicted this all along after all? Hadn’t I always been so sure that our relationship would have to first crumble to pieces before he could come to terms with the fact that it really was what he wanted?
I hadn’t anticipated it being nearly so painful, but I had seen this coming.
And now, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it would just be a matter of time.
I just hoped it would be enough time... for both of us. For him to heal from her, and for me to heal from him.
Because at this point, I still didn’t know what my choice would be when that time came.
When I said goodbye to the DV, I was already feeling refreshed and more like myself. San Diego was the perfect last stop for me. I was able to spend some time with some of my favorite girl friend’s; one of whom happened to be dealing with a brutal and unexpected breakup from her boyfriend of 3 years, who up until a week prior she had been planning on moving states with in the following month.
We definitely had a few nights spent doing nothing more than man bashing.
Like I said, perfect.
It wasn’t until my second to last night there that I really started to miss him. We were in the car driving somewhere, and all of a sudden I felt like I was fighting back tears again.
I tried to explain to my friends what I was feeling, but I couldn’t quite put it into words. I knew he didn’t deserve these tears of mine. I knew he didn’t deserve anything from me.
But I was having a hard time letting go of what I had believed could be.
And I was starting to dread going home. After spending more than a week with the people I loved, distracted entirely from his absence in my life, I was starting to dread being back in Alaska.
Without him.
I hadn’t heard from him since that night. He had kept his promise, and I was glad he had.
But there was also this part of me that hated it. I had gone through the previous weekend on edge, sure that a drunk dial from him was eminent. But it hadn’t come. And despite my best efforts not to, I felt slighted.
Even though he was only doing exactly what I had asked… staying away.
I wasn’t proud of my feelings. I wasn’t proud to be missing him, or to secretly be wishing he would call.
But that was the reality.
And by now, I really was starting to wonder if maybe I’d made it all up. If maybe we really didn’t have what I thought we had.
I swear the boy must have had ESP. Because it was that night, as I had just again started to allow these thoughts to seep in, that I heard from him.
He texted me a little after 11 asking how my trip had gone.
It had been 10 days since that night.
The longest we'd ever gone without speaking since we had met.
It was obvious he thought I was already home.
I was with two of my best friends when the text came through, and even though I probably would have anyway – their presence helped me to ignore it.
I didn’t hear from him again.
Not until the next night that is, when at 2:30 in the morning he texted me.
I was actually already awake. My plane was leaving in a few hours, and my friends and I were up in the living room spending the last of the time we had together laughing and talking.
All his text message said was “Are you alive? Yes or No?”
It seemed unfair. He knew I was alive, and he also knew I had a near impossible time ignoring people.
Why wasn’t he just leaving me alone?
Like he had promised?
Annoyed, I responded “Of course I’m alive. Pretty sure you would probably hear about it if I wasn’t.”
As soon as I hit send, he called.
And I hit the bitch button.
Why was he doing this?
I knew he was drunk. That much was assured simply by the hour.
But was that really all this was about?
He sent me a text stating simply “You just screened me!”
And I responded. “Yes I did. I’m in San Diego with my friends. Catching a plane in just a few hours. And you’re giving me space. Remember?”
I shouldn’t have responded at all, but I felt like he was due that reminder.
“Yes, sorry.” He replied. “I miss you. Goodnight.”
Now I was pissed.
Finally I was pissed.
Not at myself, but at him.
He had made me a promise, and now he was breaking it.
As much as I had secretly found myself wishing the day before that I would hear from him, if only so that I would know he cared, it wasn’t acceptable for him to be telling me he missed me.
And so, the crazy girl who lives inside of me took over.
“That’s not fair. After a conversation where you said to me ‘you don’t even want to know what I have to think about to sleep with you’, you don’t get to miss me. You have no idea how much you hurt me. How stupid, and embarrassed, and naïve I felt for letting myself believe anything you had ever told me about wanting to be with me. I care about, I want you to be OK, and I want to be your friend, but not at the expense of me getting trampled on. And not if it means only hearing from you when you’re drunk enough to realize you miss me. I need that space. That time to move on and get over whatever the hell it was we had between us. And you said you cared about me enough to give it to me. So… do it.”
He responded by simply saying “OK.” But 5 minutes later, he responded again.
“I love you, either way. Take care.”
Why! Why was he doing this to me? Why was he using that word now, after basically telling me he hadn’t ever meant it before?
I waited to respond until over an hour later, as we were driving to the airport.
“They’re only words. They don’t really mean a whole lot anymore, coming from you.”
I felt justified in that. It was true. I didn’t throw those words around. I didn’t use them haphazardly and without care.
So why did he get to?
I got on my return flight to Alaska feeling much the same as I had felt in leaving.
Hurt. And confused. And toyed with.
After a few days back home though, I was starting to feel whole again. Returning to the calm I had felt while away. Sliding back into my routine, I felt my strength returning.
I was focusing on him less and less.
So of course, he had to pop up again. On a Thursday night, at a reasonable hour, less than a week since I’d gotten home, I received this text:
"For whatever its worth, I'm sober and I still really miss you. You are a wonderful person and a great friend. You have stood beside me and supported me through one of the toughest times in my life and I don't take that for granted. Take care.
PS I decided not to get Tatalina."
I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Technically, it had been exactly what I’d needed. Confirmation that he did care about me. That I hadn’t made it all up. That I wasn’t crazy.
But... it still wasn’t enough.
I thought for a while before finally responding.
"It is worth something. Thank you. And I miss you too. But... I can't keep putting myself in the middle of this. I can't keep letting myself get hurt. It's not good for you, or for me. You need to deal with all of this, and get your head back on straight. I think it's obvious I wasn't helping you to do that. If anything, I was just confusing you more. Or putting too much pressure on you to be something you couldn't be. I can't be just your friend though. Not right now. Not when we both know I want more. Not when every time you're drunk, you suddenly want more too. It just hurts too bad. It was breaking me. And I'll never really understand how you could have said something so hurtful to me - even if it was true. I just... I don't get it. But I do miss you too. Even though I wish I didn't.
I'm sorry you didn't get Tatalina. I really wanted her for you. I think having her would have been good for you."
It was more than I meant to say, but… this is me we’re talking about. Epic text messages are to be expected when I’m the one doing the texting.
Conciseness has never been my specialty.
But never in a million years did I expect what he sent next:
"I am so sorry for hurting you. You don't deserve any of this. The truth is I am very confused and don't know how to handle things with you, so as a defense mechanism I push you away. The sad part is, I always regret it later and feel like a jackass. I am thankful for the support you have given me, but wish we could have met later when I wasn't so fucked in the head. This is a shitty situation and it breaks my heart not having you in my life. You have done so many nice things for me and been so there for me; there is no way I can ever repay you for that. I only wish I was half as good of a friend as you have been.
There are so many things I would like to say to you in person, so if you would consider meeting me let me know. I am terrified to lose you and it is unfortunate (in some ways) we met at such a shitty time. As a matter of fact, the timing fucking sucked, but the last 5 months of my life would have been miserable without you. Meeting you has been the best thing that's happened to me since the divorce. I miss you. Dammit I wish we could just start over. I hope to see you again. Love always, the boy.
P.S. I have been listening to your CD every day."
The boy had just out-texted me.
And all I could think, after reading all of that, was:
Crap.
(to be continued…)
