Laughing All The Way

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Because I promised, I am showing mine

This is not well written and I know that I should edit and craft this to be evocative and funny, but I just can’t. It’s hard to be “on” all the time, and there are something about which I don’t want to be “on”.

I have spent some time talking about my dating situation but there is really a need to share some of the backfill.

In high school I went on dates, but was never really serious with anyone for too long. In college I was the girl who rounded out the four, always up for a set-up or as a distraction for some guy’s friend/brother/roommate. In my junior year I moved to England on an International exchange and two days in I met “The Film Major”. He and I flirted shamelessly for a protracted length of time and finally fell into bed with each other. As terrible as it is to write that, it’s as close to the truth as I could possibly describe in writing.

Knowing that I was moving back to America, we were adamant about keeping our relationship light, easy, and in the moment. When the time came for me to return home, it was sad and we agreed to write and stay in touch, but we both acknowledged the reality of our situation. Fast-forward one year, he has pursued me, sending emails and arranging to come out to visit. I graduated from college and two weeks later he was in Boston.

We spent a great week together, exploring the city and the cape. He met my family and everyone had a grand ole’ time. I had been applying to graduate programs in London, and at this time, because he had been pursuing me, I told him that I would be in London in September. I made it clear that I was not looking to move in with him and have this serious relation forced upon us, but that I was looking to spend more time with him and see where we, as a couple, went. He was very responsive to all this.

Ten days before I was leaving to move to London I get an email from him saying that in the last two weeks he had fallen in love with someone else. I was angry and bitter and pissed off. All he ever heard from me was that as long as he was happy and in love I was happy for him. And he believed me. Of course, deep down inside I was fantasizing about a terrible car accident that maimed and disfigured both of them causing them to breakup and never find happiness with anyone because they were so terribly ugly. I have now recovered from this desire, but it took a long time.

Four months after arriving in London, I was going out in a hard way to forget all of the badness I was feeling. One night, a week before Christmas, I met “The Sergeant”. He was a one-night stand that never went home. I refused to see him as anything other than a rebound. Somewhere past the one-year mark he rolled over in his sleep and said: “I love you.” I freaked the fuck out and told him to go back to sleep. I refused to introduce him as my boyfriend and often excluded him from things that I should not have. I refused to share my feelings and emotions because I refused to believe the relationship was significant. At the two and a half year mark, I told him I loved him; I then suggested that we break up. I was about to get on a plane and move back to America. I had previous experience that I could not forget and I knew that there was going to be trouble. He promised me that we could make it. I really wish that I had not mistrusted him so much because I think we missed out on so much happiness.

I now have been home for a year and somewhere along the way, in my mind I saw myself as single. I think that around month six, I had already grieved for the end of the relationship even though we were still together. The emails and calls were not as regular, his work was taking him away from places I could call, and we were being irritable with each other when we did speak. Eventually we started having the same argument: I wanted to get married in four years and he wanted to get married in seven years. It seems silly and trivial to argue and break up over that, but it was really indicative of something larger.

As long as I fit nicely into his life, I was welcomed to join, but it was always going to be about how he wanted his life to go. He pictured finishing his career in the military before he married, he was going to take certain positions in the military to go do what he wanted to do, he was going to buy a house where he wanted to live, and as long as I was quietly following, he had no problems taking care of me and loving me. No matter how much I tried to explain that I could not live like that he just could not understand why.

In the end, this past April, he said to me that we should just break up as friends now rather than break up in six months when we hated each other. I agreed. There was nothing left inside for me to mourn. I think that I spent one day moping and feeling out of sorts, but by the weekend I was going out on a date.

I still email “The Film Major” who is now a “Film Executive”. We have a lot of great memories and we have worked through the bad feelings; one day I just sat him down and drilled him with all of my questions, and I think that he realized that when I said that I just wanted him to be happy I may have been artfully masking my desire to have him die a painful, horrible death. “The Sergeant” healed me from the bad break up. He made me whole again and even though I saw him as a rebound, he showed me how great a good relationship can be. He gave me hope. I know that one day he and I will be able to talk as friends, but I also know that my next boyfriend will have no baggage of mine with which to deal because we ended in the best possible way.

So I guess that officially, I have been single for three months. It has been an interesting three months and I definitely have a better picture of what I want and for whom I am looking. I also know that I am ready and willing to take a chance.