Last Saturday, I was out in the yard raking leaves, and thinking. Well, to be accurate, I was fuming. Over the whole Christmas Eve visit, how he'd said that he was, in his head, 18 and running away. Like we were still in high school. Fuming. And I was THIS close to texting him those most dreaded words, words no guy likes to hear: we need to talk.
But, I was trying to be patient, give him, and myself, space, time to think, so I just kept working and thinking, trying instead to find the answer within my own self. And then, it hit me: I'd been feeling, acting, and behaving, overall, like I was 17! Maybe not the SAME 17 as I'd been back then, but, still, there was no question. And if I was behaving as though I was back in high school, who was I to judge him for reacting to that?
Oh.
Not to mention, my pet theory on divorce, which I use often to excuse silly behavior, for myself as well: whatever age you were when you were last single, dating, that's generally the age you revert to when you start to date again. You forget that 10, 15, or 22 years have passed, and you tend to look for someone that age, and behave roughly that age as well. That's normal, and it takes a while to remember how old you actually are. I'd just forgotten to apply that to him.
So, I felt better. I wasn't mad anymore. He might be 18 right now, but, he'd get past that, in time, and start to see me, as I am, now. And when he did, then we could find out if we actually like each other, the people we are now, or if all we have is the past.
And I'm okay with that.
Myself, I'd been back in 2002, at age 34, when he loved me (again) and wanted to run away with me, not run from me. Back then, he was that man, the right man. But of course, if he'd left his wife and family then, he wouldn't have been. Neither of us, least of all him, could have lived with the man he would have become.
That's what led to that conversation, all those years ago. Him saying he didn't know what to do, he couldn't leave his wife, it wouldn't be right, but, what if he never saw me again? And me, asking him, did he really believe he'd never see me again? No, he said, but, "I don't want to be 45 before we can start our lives together." Back then, I felt that we had time, plenty of time. Besides, 45 isn't old. Not old at all.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
I should be happy...
I went to see him, Christmas Eve. I wasn't sure I would, I didn't tell him I was coming, and I almost didn't go. But I really wanted to see him. And I knew he'd be home, because he had all the kids for the entire weekend, and his car is too small to fit all of them. I was already halfway there, up visiting family, so, it was less daunting to drive just over an hour instead of just over two hours.
After the huge fight we'd been having earlier in the week, I kept thinking that I might have come off better, with more of a chance, if I'd been to see him at least once. If he'd had to be confronted with me, in the flesh, right there in front of him, in his own home. That was part of it. Because I know seeing me changes things. Which was, perhaps, a little unfair.
I nearly turned around, so many times. But I wanted to see him.
When I got there, I knew it was his house before I'd seen the number. I drove past, turned around, came back, and parked. I didn't know he was in the front room, and had seen me pull up. I wish I'd parked across the street instead.
I text him, "did you get your package?", because I'd mailed his present a few days before, when we were fighting, because I was sure I wasn't going to see him. We'd made up since, for the most part, but, still. I was so nervous.
A few texts later, he's figured it out, and is asking me to come in. I've never had such a hard time walking up to someones door. It was all I could do to keep walking towards the house. I just wanted to run away.
I'm so nervous, I can't even open the door. I just stand there. He has to practically pull me inside. And all the kids are there, in the front room. I almost left right then, having only been there for a minute. I couldn't think why I'd thought it would be a good idea.
I'm too nervous to sit down, to even take off my coat. I can't look at him, or the kids, or at anything but my own shoes.
He can see this, but doesn't know why. He wonders if maybe I had something important to say, if I'd driven all that way just to visit, or...? So he says, "let me show you the house," and drags me off to the kitchen. I still have my coat on, and I keep wrapping it tightly around me. Like I want to hide. Which, I think, I do.
It's an old house. Full of awkward angles and tiny rooms and added-in spaces. A tiny spiral staircase leads upstairs.
We stand and talk, for far too long, in his tiny hallway. We talk, but, I don't know what to say. I satisfy his curiosity on a certain point, and natter on about the past, the old journal entries I'd been reading the night before. We talk about everything: movies, kids, his marriage, why he's not ready to change certain things about his life just yet.
About and hour and a half in, (I know. I wasn't going to stay. We always could just talk...) I realize, I've reached my limit. I've been standing there in that hallway, talking, listening, looking at him, and all of a sudden, I realize I can't just look at him any more. I want to be all tangled up, not knowing whose legs are whose, but, in my head, we're still dressed. I just want to be that close to him, and I can't just stand there anymore, not touching him at all. I say it's time for me to go. That not touching him is more than I can take. It's too much. (Probably more than he wanted to know, but, I can't help it, I always tell him what I'm thinking.)
He nods, asks if it's okay if he gives me a hug. It's a good hug, but, somehow, I'm still unsettled.
He walks me out to the porch, says goodbye. His daughters are giggling at us from the front room, though there is nothing to giggle at. There is at least a foot of space between us.
On the way home, I talk to my friend, she asks if I'm glad I went. I think, maybe, but...I don't know. Then she makes me promise that I won't apologize to him for coming up like that, with no warning.
I pick up my boys (they went to a movie with cousins), and drive home. I still have to bring in the tree, light it, decorate. Everything is still in the attic, and it's after midnight before I'm home.
I think, after that visit, I should be walking around like Keri Russell in Waitress, right after she realizes what he meant when he said, "I wish it were Friday". But, I'm not. I'm just confused, unsettled.
Hours later, amidst the frustrations of not having enough lights, ornament hooks gone missing, and just a general lack of Christmas feeling, I realize what it is. Or, at least, what it could be.
Despite the last 10 years of my life, having felt quite happy and content with life as it is, being single, not really dating, but being okay with that, all of a sudden, almost without warning, I'm just...lonely. I don't want to be alone anymore. And it's more like that scene where he comes to see her, at home, and she's just sad, and he comes in and just holds her, for 20 minutes. And right after that, she realizes that what she really likes about him, why she can't get enough of him: they talk, and he listens, and what she says matters to him.
And that's what I miss. Have been missing, for so long. I need that closeness of conversation. I want that best friend, always there.
I used to say, after ex2 left, that the worst part about divorce was not being allowed to love someone. Not being allowed to give to someone. I still think it's true.
So, I'm sad. And I don't want to talk to him. Kind of difficult to make that point when he's not talking to me, either, but, still.
And I thought that I missed him, but, I don't. I'm sorry he's gone. I'm sorry I messed things up. I hope he comes back, when he's ready. If that ever happens. I'm sorry I couldn't be his friend. I'm sad that he is still looking at me like I'm 17 and he's running away. I'm sad that he doesn't love me. Or at least, that love isn't enough.
After the huge fight we'd been having earlier in the week, I kept thinking that I might have come off better, with more of a chance, if I'd been to see him at least once. If he'd had to be confronted with me, in the flesh, right there in front of him, in his own home. That was part of it. Because I know seeing me changes things. Which was, perhaps, a little unfair.
I nearly turned around, so many times. But I wanted to see him.
When I got there, I knew it was his house before I'd seen the number. I drove past, turned around, came back, and parked. I didn't know he was in the front room, and had seen me pull up. I wish I'd parked across the street instead.
I text him, "did you get your package?", because I'd mailed his present a few days before, when we were fighting, because I was sure I wasn't going to see him. We'd made up since, for the most part, but, still. I was so nervous.
A few texts later, he's figured it out, and is asking me to come in. I've never had such a hard time walking up to someones door. It was all I could do to keep walking towards the house. I just wanted to run away.
I'm so nervous, I can't even open the door. I just stand there. He has to practically pull me inside. And all the kids are there, in the front room. I almost left right then, having only been there for a minute. I couldn't think why I'd thought it would be a good idea.
I'm too nervous to sit down, to even take off my coat. I can't look at him, or the kids, or at anything but my own shoes.
He can see this, but doesn't know why. He wonders if maybe I had something important to say, if I'd driven all that way just to visit, or...? So he says, "let me show you the house," and drags me off to the kitchen. I still have my coat on, and I keep wrapping it tightly around me. Like I want to hide. Which, I think, I do.
It's an old house. Full of awkward angles and tiny rooms and added-in spaces. A tiny spiral staircase leads upstairs.
We stand and talk, for far too long, in his tiny hallway. We talk, but, I don't know what to say. I satisfy his curiosity on a certain point, and natter on about the past, the old journal entries I'd been reading the night before. We talk about everything: movies, kids, his marriage, why he's not ready to change certain things about his life just yet.
About and hour and a half in, (I know. I wasn't going to stay. We always could just talk...) I realize, I've reached my limit. I've been standing there in that hallway, talking, listening, looking at him, and all of a sudden, I realize I can't just look at him any more. I want to be all tangled up, not knowing whose legs are whose, but, in my head, we're still dressed. I just want to be that close to him, and I can't just stand there anymore, not touching him at all. I say it's time for me to go. That not touching him is more than I can take. It's too much. (Probably more than he wanted to know, but, I can't help it, I always tell him what I'm thinking.)
He nods, asks if it's okay if he gives me a hug. It's a good hug, but, somehow, I'm still unsettled.
He walks me out to the porch, says goodbye. His daughters are giggling at us from the front room, though there is nothing to giggle at. There is at least a foot of space between us.
On the way home, I talk to my friend, she asks if I'm glad I went. I think, maybe, but...I don't know. Then she makes me promise that I won't apologize to him for coming up like that, with no warning.
I pick up my boys (they went to a movie with cousins), and drive home. I still have to bring in the tree, light it, decorate. Everything is still in the attic, and it's after midnight before I'm home.
I think, after that visit, I should be walking around like Keri Russell in Waitress, right after she realizes what he meant when he said, "I wish it were Friday". But, I'm not. I'm just confused, unsettled.
Hours later, amidst the frustrations of not having enough lights, ornament hooks gone missing, and just a general lack of Christmas feeling, I realize what it is. Or, at least, what it could be.
Despite the last 10 years of my life, having felt quite happy and content with life as it is, being single, not really dating, but being okay with that, all of a sudden, almost without warning, I'm just...lonely. I don't want to be alone anymore. And it's more like that scene where he comes to see her, at home, and she's just sad, and he comes in and just holds her, for 20 minutes. And right after that, she realizes that what she really likes about him, why she can't get enough of him: they talk, and he listens, and what she says matters to him.
And that's what I miss. Have been missing, for so long. I need that closeness of conversation. I want that best friend, always there.
I used to say, after ex2 left, that the worst part about divorce was not being allowed to love someone. Not being allowed to give to someone. I still think it's true.
So, I'm sad. And I don't want to talk to him. Kind of difficult to make that point when he's not talking to me, either, but, still.
And I thought that I missed him, but, I don't. I'm sorry he's gone. I'm sorry I messed things up. I hope he comes back, when he's ready. If that ever happens. I'm sorry I couldn't be his friend. I'm sad that he is still looking at me like I'm 17 and he's running away. I'm sad that he doesn't love me. Or at least, that love isn't enough.
Friday, December 30, 2011
perspective
I would like to ignore that I was the one leaning.
That he put himself as far away from me as he could without seeming rude.
That he was leaning back, away from me, almost the entire time we talked.
I would like to ignore it, but I can't.
He's not comfortable with me.
He's wary.
And I just kept leaning.
That he put himself as far away from me as he could without seeming rude.
That he was leaning back, away from me, almost the entire time we talked.
I would like to ignore it, but I can't.
He's not comfortable with me.
He's wary.
And I just kept leaning.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
living in the past? no thanks
To be fair, I started it.
I hunted up my old high school journals to discover, at the request of a young friend, what the exact day was when I met him. Because she (my young friend) was born that same month. So it was I that was taking a walk down memory lane and reading old entries from my past. And having a seriously good laugh at my old self. A self that I am no longer. Thank goodness.
And I discovered, much to my own horror, that I was a crappy girlfriend. Apparently, it was so not my fault that college boy was kissing me? Apparently, at some point, we broke up because another boy needed my attention? Apparently, after a month of not being able to see him, because I was grounded, I overreacted when, on the day we could finally see each other again, he announced that he wanted to start seeing other people. And he had a date that night.
Apparently, the way I reacted, in that particular situation, is what started him running. Away from me. Which is, apparently, what he is still doing. Even now.
Apparently, if I'd just given him some space, back then, like he asked, instead of hounding him, calling him, trying to figure out why he didn't love me anymore (may not have been true, but that's how I saw it), if I'd just left him alone, he figures, in a couple of weeks, he would have come back to me.
And for some reason, that's still where he is with me. He's 18, and he's running away. Again.
I'm not okay with that.
I'm not living in the past.
Yes, I daydreamed. I kept wondering what might happen in a few years, instead of focusing on what is happening right now. But the past? Not where I was. Not where I want to be.
And if that's where he is? I don't want to be there.
Besides which, who went looking for whom? Oh, that's right. I was just sitting here, minding my own business, enjoying my life, excited about work for the first time in years, happy to be me, and HE sent me a message.
Whatever.
I hunted up my old high school journals to discover, at the request of a young friend, what the exact day was when I met him. Because she (my young friend) was born that same month. So it was I that was taking a walk down memory lane and reading old entries from my past. And having a seriously good laugh at my old self. A self that I am no longer. Thank goodness.
And I discovered, much to my own horror, that I was a crappy girlfriend. Apparently, it was so not my fault that college boy was kissing me? Apparently, at some point, we broke up because another boy needed my attention? Apparently, after a month of not being able to see him, because I was grounded, I overreacted when, on the day we could finally see each other again, he announced that he wanted to start seeing other people. And he had a date that night.
Apparently, the way I reacted, in that particular situation, is what started him running. Away from me. Which is, apparently, what he is still doing. Even now.
Apparently, if I'd just given him some space, back then, like he asked, instead of hounding him, calling him, trying to figure out why he didn't love me anymore (may not have been true, but that's how I saw it), if I'd just left him alone, he figures, in a couple of weeks, he would have come back to me.
And for some reason, that's still where he is with me. He's 18, and he's running away. Again.
I'm not okay with that.
I'm not living in the past.
Yes, I daydreamed. I kept wondering what might happen in a few years, instead of focusing on what is happening right now. But the past? Not where I was. Not where I want to be.
And if that's where he is? I don't want to be there.
Besides which, who went looking for whom? Oh, that's right. I was just sitting here, minding my own business, enjoying my life, excited about work for the first time in years, happy to be me, and HE sent me a message.
Whatever.
Friday, December 23, 2011
delusional
So, I've been very selfish (like that's new) and mainly thinking of myself, and how I feel. And I have daydreamed instead of actually listening, and heard what I wanted to hear, instead of what he was really trying to say.
He really is not ready for a relationship.
He really is not in love with me. He likes me, yes, but love? No.
He really is not THAT guy, because, I told him what I need, and he isn't that. Not right now. He's not saying he couldn't be, but, he is saying, he's not going to change for me. Which is exactly right. I don't want someone that would be something else just because it's what I said I wanted/needed.
It's frustrating, because I want him to be that guy. Because, yes, I already do love him.
But, do I? Because, I haven't seen or heard from him in over 9 years, and, I don't actually know him anymore. I think I like him. Pretty sure. And looking at him, just looking at him, makes me go weak in the knees. Not to mention this unreal, otherworldly, almost magnetic attraction between us.
When we're together, neither of us can think rationally. We try. We mostly manage to keep our feet on the ground. But, it's not easy.
At the same time, we both see (yes, both) that this isn't going to work right now. May never work. He sees that more clearly than I do. But I'm starting to be in the now. I can see it, too.
If this is going to work, we're both going to need a lot of time to sort through things. To heal, to find out if we can be together. And by time, I mean, a couple of years. Which is really hard for me to think about.
He said, all those years ago, that he didn't want to be 45 before we could start our life together. My response? And I don't want to be in my 80's.
If I keep pushing him, like I have been, it could go like that. He will reach that point where he can't stand it any more, and he'll run away. Maybe for good. And I just don't know if I could stand that.
He really is not ready for a relationship.
He really is not in love with me. He likes me, yes, but love? No.
He really is not THAT guy, because, I told him what I need, and he isn't that. Not right now. He's not saying he couldn't be, but, he is saying, he's not going to change for me. Which is exactly right. I don't want someone that would be something else just because it's what I said I wanted/needed.
It's frustrating, because I want him to be that guy. Because, yes, I already do love him.
But, do I? Because, I haven't seen or heard from him in over 9 years, and, I don't actually know him anymore. I think I like him. Pretty sure. And looking at him, just looking at him, makes me go weak in the knees. Not to mention this unreal, otherworldly, almost magnetic attraction between us.
When we're together, neither of us can think rationally. We try. We mostly manage to keep our feet on the ground. But, it's not easy.
At the same time, we both see (yes, both) that this isn't going to work right now. May never work. He sees that more clearly than I do. But I'm starting to be in the now. I can see it, too.
If this is going to work, we're both going to need a lot of time to sort through things. To heal, to find out if we can be together. And by time, I mean, a couple of years. Which is really hard for me to think about.
He said, all those years ago, that he didn't want to be 45 before we could start our life together. My response? And I don't want to be in my 80's.
If I keep pushing him, like I have been, it could go like that. He will reach that point where he can't stand it any more, and he'll run away. Maybe for good. And I just don't know if I could stand that.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
the pattern
Back when I got that first message, and then got angry, I was trying to hide, even from me, the real reason for my anger.
But now, having to face it again, it must be admitted.
She would leave, find someone else, tell him to go away, and he would come to me. For a friend, for someone to talk to, or just because he knew I loved him.
And then she would change her mind. Want him back.
And I? I got silence. An occasional polite response.
Which is what I'm getting now.
Friday, we talked, actually talked, on the phone.
Saturday, I text him, and get a rather polite, protracted, response.
Since then? Nothing.
I remember, all too well, what that means. And I really don't want to be the other woman.
Update: It isn't her. It's me. I'm too intense. Too much. Which I already knew.
But now, having to face it again, it must be admitted.
She would leave, find someone else, tell him to go away, and he would come to me. For a friend, for someone to talk to, or just because he knew I loved him.
And then she would change her mind. Want him back.
And I? I got silence. An occasional polite response.
Which is what I'm getting now.
Friday, we talked, actually talked, on the phone.
Saturday, I text him, and get a rather polite, protracted, response.
Since then? Nothing.
I remember, all too well, what that means. And I really don't want to be the other woman.
Update: It isn't her. It's me. I'm too intense. Too much. Which I already knew.
Monday, December 19, 2011
girl on a mission
I've decided that it's rather pathetic that the last person I kissed (an embarrassing number of years ago) was, coincidentally, the same person I was trying so hard not to kiss over Thanksgiving weekend.
I mean, really? REALLY?
It's just sad. And it's given him (the all-important him) the idea that he's awakened me from the dead, romantically speaking, which isn't exactly true. Not really.
I have dated, a bit. I did the singles activities while I was on the committee; went to everything, danced with whoever asked, flirted (tried to flirt?), and engaged in conversation when called upon.
I was not dead. I just didn't seem to get asked out. Or set up.
So, here's the deal:
I need dates. And you, my friends, are going to help me.
The 3 E's are a must (note: willing to bend on the college education bit, but only if you think he can carry on a worthwhile conversation. I love a good conversation.)
The age, maturity level, or looks of said possible date are unimportant. I just want to have a nice time, possibly some intelligent conversation. I am not looking for a boyfriend. I am not looking for a husband. I would just like to date.
Surely there is someone out there who would suit?
I mean, really? REALLY?
It's just sad. And it's given him (the all-important him) the idea that he's awakened me from the dead, romantically speaking, which isn't exactly true. Not really.
I have dated, a bit. I did the singles activities while I was on the committee; went to everything, danced with whoever asked, flirted (tried to flirt?), and engaged in conversation when called upon.
I was not dead. I just didn't seem to get asked out. Or set up.
So, here's the deal:
I need dates. And you, my friends, are going to help me.
The 3 E's are a must (note: willing to bend on the college education bit, but only if you think he can carry on a worthwhile conversation. I love a good conversation.)
The age, maturity level, or looks of said possible date are unimportant. I just want to have a nice time, possibly some intelligent conversation. I am not looking for a boyfriend. I am not looking for a husband. I would just like to date.
Surely there is someone out there who would suit?
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