took forever.
I don't date.
Something happened to me and I don't know what it is. I suppose I haven't really had any worse luck in the love department than the next person. But, really, I am very closed off.
Where to start? I guess my first real boyfriend was Jason. I started seeing him when I was 19. We didn't quite get on when we first met each other. However, we started talking at a party after he broke up with his girlfriend and we hit it off right away. We were inseparable at first. We had mutual friends, we were both in college, and we were headed toward traditional coupledom. I felt lucky because a boyfriend was what I always wanted.
Soon, however, a complacency set in. We were bored and, at 21 years old, our lives had solidified into the trap of routine. Twenty-one! I knew I wanted more but I didn't know what that was. I was very open with him. I thought I was just the best girlfriend. He would go out with his friends without me and I out with mine without him... it was cool. But, I think we were more used to each other than "in love" - whatever that is for someone in her early twenties. I wouldn't say that I was in a state of arrested emotional development, but much of who I was was tied to the relationship. Honestly, I can't say I had any insight into the creative or intellectual part of myself. I was a girl who had a boyfriend who wanted to be a liberal social worker. Bam...
I was attracted to other people at that time, but I figured it was easier to stay with Jason than to explore what that attraction was about. Besides, what person isn't attracted to other people in the context of a relationship? Shortly after my 21st birthday, however, Jason dumped me for one of our friend's girlfriends. It was ugly and our cozy-couple friend group was shattered. Everyone took my side, for the most part. But the comfort and stability that comes with designated couples subsided. So, I was alone. Another gal in that friend group, Becky, had just broken up with her boyfriend Wayne. She and I started to become close and we slowly moved away from our friend group. We went to shows together and got moony-eyed over all the rocker boys. I have to say, we were friends of circumstance. There was also Kim. Honestly, I never had a better time than with Kim. I loved her. All of us have since lost touch, but that's another story.
So what my breakup with Jason did for me was tap me into the emotional part of myself. It just so happened that my friend Kerry gave me a journal right about the time that Jason and I broke up, so I started to explore my inner life through the written word. My writing is mediocre, at best, but it was incredibly eye-opening to allow my mind to explore itself when trying to articulate my inner-life. I got really into literature, art and music around that time. I was trying to forge an identity for myself, an identity attached not to a boyfriend, but one of my own making. I became greatful to Jason for breaking up with me. I didn't have the strength to do it myself but it launched me into a time of tremendous self-exploration.
I had a crush, a big crush, on this guy Jeremy at the time. I was so insecure and searching for an identity and it was obvious. There was no way this guy was gonna like me. I didn't know who I was. Nonetheless, I chased him around like a weepy puppy dog. He was no stranger to ego, so I'm pretty sure he enjoyed this. I think I pined for him for the duration of about eight months or so.
One night, in June, I was hanging out with Eric, Jeremy's friend. Eric and I became really close. We did fun stuff together - we took mushrooms and looked at the stars, we painted pennies, individually, we loved Brit-pop, told stories to one another, laughed. Parenthetically, Eric is a person who is accutely tapped in to the aesthetics of the world. He'll notice something in a sidewalk or in the siding of what seems an ordinary house that makes you think of the world in this entirely different way. He is a photographer and he sees the world that way. Anyway, I suspect I hung out with Eric, at first anyway, to get a little closer to Jeremy. So we were hanging out one night and Jeremy wasn't there. I was a bit bored because the guys were sitting around playing the guitar, so I was reading. I remember what I was reading - Franny and Zoe by Salinger. There I was, reading, and BAM! my life changed. I felt it, I knew it.
Cris walked in. Cris, tall, lanky, with socks that did not match, who sits with his legs crossed, the biggest eyes I've ever seen, and a voice that could melt butter (and me). He was effeminate enough to incite an aura of sensitivity but masculine enough for me to want him to throw me down and dominate me. Cris. I pretended not to notice. Cris, with his acoustic guitar, singing with his friends about sofa snakes. Sofa snakes? Cris, with the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I am no longer naive enough to fall in love at first sight, but there it was... I knew I could love this guy. I can't fully remember who I thought Cris was because I know him so well now, but I know I made up this person who was not totally linked to the reality of any human being. All I know is, at the time, I was really into the Beat Poetry movement and I equated Cris to the tortured artist, poet, etc. I found this so intriguing.
For the next few months my attentions were detracted from Jeremy onto Cris. I would convince my friends to come with me to this bar, The Rendezvous, because I he was often there. I observed him from afar, further elevating him in my mind, watching and hoping he'd notice me. God, I was still so insecure, I had no sense of who I was.
In August, Artscape rolled around and I found myself sitting alone under a tree, reading. (I used to be so content to be by myself.) I look up and I see Cris and his band, Carl, John and Breck, walking toward me. I am instantly siezed by feelings of excitement and fear. Fear. Oh, god, here he is, what do I say? How do I act natural? I was waiting to meet someone, I can't remember who. But I think I was stood up. So, I wound up hanging out with them. After Artscape, we go to the Rendezvous and Cris and I wound up sitting next to one another. At some point my hands wer on his legs and his on mine. Words can't express how excited I was. Cris was touching me. I never thought someone like that could ever want someone like me. I was so painfully ordinary. But there he was...
The one thing I remember about that evening and the observable aspects of him that I would come to recognize in the coming months and years was that he seemed to me a man. He had hairy legs. Later I would take not of his hairy stomach. He wasn't gross hairy. I recall thinking to myself, "He is an adult, he is the first man I've ever touched." I felt like he was a grownup and I was a child. This was coupled with the fact that he was 5 years older than I, not to mention I still lived with my parents. I felt like an infant and I felt the instant urge to grow up. Otherwise, I was not match for him.
A few weeks later, I was at a party at someone's house. Cris and a few other folks I knew were there... I was there with Becky, I remember that. As it got later, people started to go home and there were a few of us left with more beer to drink. We sat in a circle in the basement and played spin the bottle. I kissed a variety of people. Finally, the bottle landed on Cris. We made out. We made out longer than the others. I remember thinking about how amazing a kisser he was. We wound up going back to his house and we made out all night. He said, "Why didn't we do this sooner?" Don't think I didn't want to Crissy-poo!
I was estatic. I came home and told my friend Kim every detail. Cris was all I could think of. I don't know what it is about the first parts of a relationship, but I noticed EVERYTHING. One day, I saw the clouds rolling about the sky in a way that suggested cleansing and beauty beyond anything a human being could create. I wanted to call Cris and have him sit with me to enjoy these pleasures. I wanted him in my heart and I wanted him to think of me when he saw beauty much in the way I thought of him when I encountered and aesthetic pleasure.
We had our first date a few days after our intense make-out session. I was so nervous that my mouth like a desert, no matter how much water or beer I drank. I think I got quite tipsy that night, out of sheer fear. I just couldn't believe he could like me. I wanted to seem worthy of his attention though I didn't believe I was.
He kept calling me, and everytime I was shocked. Why? He's so tall and beautiful and he's a writer and he's smarter than I am, he uses words I don't understand, and he's an artist and he plays guitar... who am I? Again, I am a baby with no discernable talents or identity. I had no sense of myself yet.
The relationship (as I would call it) or friendship (as he would call it) continued. It was bumpy and at no point was I secure in it. I thought about Cris all the time but knew that there was a power imbalance. Every relationship has a power imbalance. One person is destined to love more than the other. I definitely loved more. Actually, I loved him. He liked me.
A relationship this turbulent could not last. We were still seeing each other on New Years Eve. We made plans to meet at the Rendesvous at, well, I can't remember, one am? Something like that. He stood me up. I waited. He didn't show. I was devastated. I went to his house the next day and he was extremely apologetic. "I was drunk and lost track of the time," he said. I wanted to scream, "All I do is think of you. How can you not think of me?" I reluctantly accepted his apology, but knew it would end. Was I strong enough to do it? Did I have enough self esteem? Not yet.
As time went on, I had the sneaking suspicion that one of his coworkers, Amy, was hot for him and I grew more and more jealous. He assured me that their relationship was purely platonic as she had dated Cris' roommate and good friend, Will. But I knew something was happening.
Finally, I had enough and I ended it with Cris. I told him that I wanted a relationship and he stated clearly and with conviction that he most certainly did not want a one. I accepted that and told him that what he had wasn't enough. He sat on the edge of my bed (in my new, grown-up apartment) and rolled those huge eyes of his as though he was being scolded by him mommy. I was so frustrated with him. "HOW CAN YOU NOT CARE?" I wanted to shout. But I knew the effort would be futile. I had to let him go.
Days later I saw Cris and Amy out together and I can't express how hurt I was. They were in a relationship for a year. To me, it wasn't that Cris didn't want a relationship. It was that Cris didn't want a relationship with me. Painful. I would see them out and try to hold my head up high. I am sure I suceeded in creating the illusion of non-caring. But I cared, a lot.
Shortly after Cris and I stopped seeing each other, Jeremy and I messed around. I saw him at Rednesvouz a short while after Cris and I ended it and we wound up coming home together. We made out on my couch and I cried in his arms about Cris. Later, Jeremy would tell Cris that he and I hooked up while Cris and I were still seeing each other.
Months passed and I dated a few guys, Even, David, Mark, Brett, whoever. They were never Cris. Oddly enough, I was hired at a sexual assault and domestic violence center by Amy, Cris' girlfriend. I had to get over my jealously and hurt. Women shoudn't hate each other over men, right? With proximity, I observed her with envy. In my mind I thought, "you've got what it takes, I don't." While we were working together, Amy and Cris broke up.
I quit the domestic violence center to pursue a graduate degree in Sociology. To supplement my income, I got a job at The Zodiac, a restaurant connected to The Club Charles, one the premier hipster hangouts. Signature Smalltimore style dictated that Cris would also work there. This was in 1999, a full year and a half after the infatuation began.
Sunday nights, I worked the restaurant alone. I tended bar and waited tables. Needless to say, Sunday nights were slow (though I did make a lot of money. He came in a few times on Sundays, on his days off. Was it for the free beer? Maybe. We wound up talking and reacquainting ourselves. One night, we went home together. I remember, as we hugged outside the bar, a precursor to an evening of pleasure, I smelled him and felt like I was home. We made love. I missed him. I was instantly reconnected with the intensity of my feelings for him.
He, however, was seeing Megan, a girl with a boyfriend, named Chris. How unfair. I wanted to rekindle us. This did not happen. There was no us. Again, the love was one-sided. He wanted to be with his girlfriend with a boyfriend. This was obvious. I threw things, cried, hated her, hated him.
I moved on, dated other people. I had emotional upheavals and and my "friends" abandoned me in my time of need (my grandfather died). I was in graduate school. I joined a band. My mind was in other places. I was having an existential crisis akin to the one I felt when Jason and I broke up. I reevaluated my friendships and my relationship with time changed. I would no longer spend time with those with whom drinking and (not wom- but)manizing was the common bond. I wanted my relationships to be deeper than that.
Meanwhile, Cris got fired from the Zodiac and became a bike messenger. One night, his bike was stolen and he knew that he was out of a job. Ceremonially, he shaved his legs as an offering to the bike gods and went cross-country to visit his sister in Portland, Oregon. I thought he'd never return. I wrote him off.
I got into the habit of going to a few bars (this was in the summer of 2000), The Mount Royal Tavern and Dougherty's. One night, while bar hopping, I ran into Cris. He's returned from Portland, much to my surprise. I got a beer, he got a shot, and we talked. He told me he'd marry me that day if he could. He changed, he knew what was important. He was ready for the relationship that I'd always wanted. I wanted it too, so much. We were back together.
The relationship was turmoil for a while. But I got used to his habits. In fact, I incorporated them into my life. He got up late. So did I. He was off on Sundays... so was I! Whatever he wanted, I made sure I was available. I'd wait for him to get off of work, walk his dog, and we'd drink beer and play Scrabble until the wee hours. I just wanted to be around him... no matter what. He spent the night a lot. We were together a lot. A year later, it just made sense that we should move in together. So we did.
I "had" him. He "had" me. What more did we need? So we stopped trying. When did we see each other? In passing. No longer did we make the effort to spend time. No longer did we have sex. We were going through the motions.
I graduated. I had been working at a Mexican restaurant, Holy Frijoles, to get me through graduate school. I had no prospects for a position in academia, so I worked at the restaurant full-time. There were 2 locations, uptown and downtown. When I picked up shifts at the one downtown, things got crazy. This was after "9/11," a time that changed America's psyche. I was becoming increasingly skeptical, increasingly political. Cris was what I call "practical." I wanted revolution. I wanted friends who wanted the same.
I met Brian. Brian had just graduated from American University in DC. He got his degree in English/Literature. Brian had participated in anti-captitalist protests. He's been arrested for civil disobedience. He'd quote Audre Lorde. He was professor. He offered me the illusion of what life "could be." I could have a fulfilling romantic relationship with this person. We could live our revolution. We could coexist in a fashion that Cris and I couldn't. I fell in love with an illusion. One night, I was talking to my mother on the porch of Cris and my shared home. I was on the porch swing that his mother bought us... a porch swing that I desired and that Cris used to smoke cigarettes. I said, "This isn't what I want. I want a person who desires a quiet life, a person who is intellectual. A person more like me." I had Brian in mind.
I don't think it is fair to mention that this happened in accordance with the fall, deterioration and subsequent death of my grandmother. I called my grandmother that day, asking her if she needed to go shopping in the afternoon, before I went to work. "No, " she said, "your mother is going to take me." Okay, I'll just putz around the house and then go to work. After I arrived at work, I got a phone call from my mother, "Your grandmother fell. She's at the hospital. She's not doing well." I found someone to work for me and quickly made my way to the hospital. My grandmother was not expected to make it through the night.
I called Cris. Being that he was close to his grandmother, he could understand my devastation. My mother, my Uncle Joe, and I sat in a hospital room all night watching, waiting for my grandmother to die. I called Cris every couple of hours through the night. He was so supportive. "Oh, honey, I am so sorry." he said. "Call me if anything happens, if you need anything. I'll keep the phone by my side."
Around 6 in the morning, my grandmother made, according to the doctors, "miraculous" improvements. She was slated for brain surgery... "We think we can save her." they said, citing a 50/50 chance of survivial. All night, I had endured discomfort in my tight, "tip-making" jeans. I longed to be in comfortable clothes with comfortable people surrounding me. I wanted Cris to come to the hospital with a change of clothes. I wanted to be in his arms. He'd been so supportive. Any thought I had of Brian immediately dissipated. I knew Cris was the only one who could understand.
Unfortunately, I called and called home... no answer. Finally, I decided to make my way home to change while my grandmother was in surgery. I told her, "I'll be right back." She responded, "Okay."
A miracle! We thought she was brain-dead.
I got home and Cris was asleep. He didn't hear the phone. I woke him and told him about the changes. I said, "She's having brain surgery. She has a 50/50 chance. Will you come sit with me?"
He was too tired. He'd been up all night. He drank an entire bottle of wine. No, he couldn't come.
"I'll let you know if my grandmother lives or dies." I said.
Reluctantly, he got out of bed as if to say, "Fine, you want me there, I'll come. It is not my desire to do so."
His indignance suggested he would come not out of concern but out of obligation. He threw on his pants. While brushing his teeth he glared at me and said, "You're so selfish."
I hit him. I screamed, "You have NO IDEA WHAT I'VE GONE THROUGH TONIGHT!" The person I thought could support me was not available. I knew then we had to break up.
My grandmother was still in surgery when Cris and I arrived at the hospital.
"I'm breaking up with him." I told my mother.
"Why?" she asked.
I told her what happened.
"Don't you love him.?"
"Yes, very much. But I love me more."
I knew it was over. I contintued to the charade for another month and a half. He bought me birthday and Christmas presents. I bought him Christmas presents.
I broke up with him in the middle of January, 2002.
Honestly, I'd maintained contact with Brian. I thought he was "Mr. Perfect." In reality, he made it easier to end something I knew I needed to end.
When I broke up with Cris, he was devastated. I was preoccupied with daily trips to the hospital to care for my grandmother. I was preoccupied with the illusion that Brian was perfect for me. I just didn't want to deal with the deterioration of a relationship that I'd put so much of my soul into. How could I deal with so much loss at once?
Brian and I had a brief love affair - we steeped it in the expectation that neither of us had human tendencies and that neither were our exes. This was, of course, a relationship doomed to failure.
Cris found out about Brian. I am sure he hated me for a while. But, eventually, he joined a band, got the girls, and we were able to be friends.
This was not the end.
Something happened to me and I don't know what it is. I suppose I haven't really had any worse luck in the love department than the next person. But, really, I am very closed off.
Where to start? I guess my first real boyfriend was Jason. I started seeing him when I was 19. We didn't quite get on when we first met each other. However, we started talking at a party after he broke up with his girlfriend and we hit it off right away. We were inseparable at first. We had mutual friends, we were both in college, and we were headed toward traditional coupledom. I felt lucky because a boyfriend was what I always wanted.
Soon, however, a complacency set in. We were bored and, at 21 years old, our lives had solidified into the trap of routine. Twenty-one! I knew I wanted more but I didn't know what that was. I was very open with him. I thought I was just the best girlfriend. He would go out with his friends without me and I out with mine without him... it was cool. But, I think we were more used to each other than "in love" - whatever that is for someone in her early twenties. I wouldn't say that I was in a state of arrested emotional development, but much of who I was was tied to the relationship. Honestly, I can't say I had any insight into the creative or intellectual part of myself. I was a girl who had a boyfriend who wanted to be a liberal social worker. Bam...
I was attracted to other people at that time, but I figured it was easier to stay with Jason than to explore what that attraction was about. Besides, what person isn't attracted to other people in the context of a relationship? Shortly after my 21st birthday, however, Jason dumped me for one of our friend's girlfriends. It was ugly and our cozy-couple friend group was shattered. Everyone took my side, for the most part. But the comfort and stability that comes with designated couples subsided. So, I was alone. Another gal in that friend group, Becky, had just broken up with her boyfriend Wayne. She and I started to become close and we slowly moved away from our friend group. We went to shows together and got moony-eyed over all the rocker boys. I have to say, we were friends of circumstance. There was also Kim. Honestly, I never had a better time than with Kim. I loved her. All of us have since lost touch, but that's another story.
So what my breakup with Jason did for me was tap me into the emotional part of myself. It just so happened that my friend Kerry gave me a journal right about the time that Jason and I broke up, so I started to explore my inner life through the written word. My writing is mediocre, at best, but it was incredibly eye-opening to allow my mind to explore itself when trying to articulate my inner-life. I got really into literature, art and music around that time. I was trying to forge an identity for myself, an identity attached not to a boyfriend, but one of my own making. I became greatful to Jason for breaking up with me. I didn't have the strength to do it myself but it launched me into a time of tremendous self-exploration.
I had a crush, a big crush, on this guy Jeremy at the time. I was so insecure and searching for an identity and it was obvious. There was no way this guy was gonna like me. I didn't know who I was. Nonetheless, I chased him around like a weepy puppy dog. He was no stranger to ego, so I'm pretty sure he enjoyed this. I think I pined for him for the duration of about eight months or so.
One night, in June, I was hanging out with Eric, Jeremy's friend. Eric and I became really close. We did fun stuff together - we took mushrooms and looked at the stars, we painted pennies, individually, we loved Brit-pop, told stories to one another, laughed. Parenthetically, Eric is a person who is accutely tapped in to the aesthetics of the world. He'll notice something in a sidewalk or in the siding of what seems an ordinary house that makes you think of the world in this entirely different way. He is a photographer and he sees the world that way. Anyway, I suspect I hung out with Eric, at first anyway, to get a little closer to Jeremy. So we were hanging out one night and Jeremy wasn't there. I was a bit bored because the guys were sitting around playing the guitar, so I was reading. I remember what I was reading - Franny and Zoe by Salinger. There I was, reading, and BAM! my life changed. I felt it, I knew it.
Cris walked in. Cris, tall, lanky, with socks that did not match, who sits with his legs crossed, the biggest eyes I've ever seen, and a voice that could melt butter (and me). He was effeminate enough to incite an aura of sensitivity but masculine enough for me to want him to throw me down and dominate me. Cris. I pretended not to notice. Cris, with his acoustic guitar, singing with his friends about sofa snakes. Sofa snakes? Cris, with the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I am no longer naive enough to fall in love at first sight, but there it was... I knew I could love this guy. I can't fully remember who I thought Cris was because I know him so well now, but I know I made up this person who was not totally linked to the reality of any human being. All I know is, at the time, I was really into the Beat Poetry movement and I equated Cris to the tortured artist, poet, etc. I found this so intriguing.
For the next few months my attentions were detracted from Jeremy onto Cris. I would convince my friends to come with me to this bar, The Rendezvous, because I he was often there. I observed him from afar, further elevating him in my mind, watching and hoping he'd notice me. God, I was still so insecure, I had no sense of who I was.
In August, Artscape rolled around and I found myself sitting alone under a tree, reading. (I used to be so content to be by myself.) I look up and I see Cris and his band, Carl, John and Breck, walking toward me. I am instantly siezed by feelings of excitement and fear. Fear. Oh, god, here he is, what do I say? How do I act natural? I was waiting to meet someone, I can't remember who. But I think I was stood up. So, I wound up hanging out with them. After Artscape, we go to the Rendezvous and Cris and I wound up sitting next to one another. At some point my hands wer on his legs and his on mine. Words can't express how excited I was. Cris was touching me. I never thought someone like that could ever want someone like me. I was so painfully ordinary. But there he was...
The one thing I remember about that evening and the observable aspects of him that I would come to recognize in the coming months and years was that he seemed to me a man. He had hairy legs. Later I would take not of his hairy stomach. He wasn't gross hairy. I recall thinking to myself, "He is an adult, he is the first man I've ever touched." I felt like he was a grownup and I was a child. This was coupled with the fact that he was 5 years older than I, not to mention I still lived with my parents. I felt like an infant and I felt the instant urge to grow up. Otherwise, I was not match for him.
A few weeks later, I was at a party at someone's house. Cris and a few other folks I knew were there... I was there with Becky, I remember that. As it got later, people started to go home and there were a few of us left with more beer to drink. We sat in a circle in the basement and played spin the bottle. I kissed a variety of people. Finally, the bottle landed on Cris. We made out. We made out longer than the others. I remember thinking about how amazing a kisser he was. We wound up going back to his house and we made out all night. He said, "Why didn't we do this sooner?" Don't think I didn't want to Crissy-poo!
I was estatic. I came home and told my friend Kim every detail. Cris was all I could think of. I don't know what it is about the first parts of a relationship, but I noticed EVERYTHING. One day, I saw the clouds rolling about the sky in a way that suggested cleansing and beauty beyond anything a human being could create. I wanted to call Cris and have him sit with me to enjoy these pleasures. I wanted him in my heart and I wanted him to think of me when he saw beauty much in the way I thought of him when I encountered and aesthetic pleasure.
We had our first date a few days after our intense make-out session. I was so nervous that my mouth like a desert, no matter how much water or beer I drank. I think I got quite tipsy that night, out of sheer fear. I just couldn't believe he could like me. I wanted to seem worthy of his attention though I didn't believe I was.
He kept calling me, and everytime I was shocked. Why? He's so tall and beautiful and he's a writer and he's smarter than I am, he uses words I don't understand, and he's an artist and he plays guitar... who am I? Again, I am a baby with no discernable talents or identity. I had no sense of myself yet.
The relationship (as I would call it) or friendship (as he would call it) continued. It was bumpy and at no point was I secure in it. I thought about Cris all the time but knew that there was a power imbalance. Every relationship has a power imbalance. One person is destined to love more than the other. I definitely loved more. Actually, I loved him. He liked me.
A relationship this turbulent could not last. We were still seeing each other on New Years Eve. We made plans to meet at the Rendesvous at, well, I can't remember, one am? Something like that. He stood me up. I waited. He didn't show. I was devastated. I went to his house the next day and he was extremely apologetic. "I was drunk and lost track of the time," he said. I wanted to scream, "All I do is think of you. How can you not think of me?" I reluctantly accepted his apology, but knew it would end. Was I strong enough to do it? Did I have enough self esteem? Not yet.
As time went on, I had the sneaking suspicion that one of his coworkers, Amy, was hot for him and I grew more and more jealous. He assured me that their relationship was purely platonic as she had dated Cris' roommate and good friend, Will. But I knew something was happening.
Finally, I had enough and I ended it with Cris. I told him that I wanted a relationship and he stated clearly and with conviction that he most certainly did not want a one. I accepted that and told him that what he had wasn't enough. He sat on the edge of my bed (in my new, grown-up apartment) and rolled those huge eyes of his as though he was being scolded by him mommy. I was so frustrated with him. "HOW CAN YOU NOT CARE?" I wanted to shout. But I knew the effort would be futile. I had to let him go.
Days later I saw Cris and Amy out together and I can't express how hurt I was. They were in a relationship for a year. To me, it wasn't that Cris didn't want a relationship. It was that Cris didn't want a relationship with me. Painful. I would see them out and try to hold my head up high. I am sure I suceeded in creating the illusion of non-caring. But I cared, a lot.
Shortly after Cris and I stopped seeing each other, Jeremy and I messed around. I saw him at Rednesvouz a short while after Cris and I ended it and we wound up coming home together. We made out on my couch and I cried in his arms about Cris. Later, Jeremy would tell Cris that he and I hooked up while Cris and I were still seeing each other.
Months passed and I dated a few guys, Even, David, Mark, Brett, whoever. They were never Cris. Oddly enough, I was hired at a sexual assault and domestic violence center by Amy, Cris' girlfriend. I had to get over my jealously and hurt. Women shoudn't hate each other over men, right? With proximity, I observed her with envy. In my mind I thought, "you've got what it takes, I don't." While we were working together, Amy and Cris broke up.
I quit the domestic violence center to pursue a graduate degree in Sociology. To supplement my income, I got a job at The Zodiac, a restaurant connected to The Club Charles, one the premier hipster hangouts. Signature Smalltimore style dictated that Cris would also work there. This was in 1999, a full year and a half after the infatuation began.
Sunday nights, I worked the restaurant alone. I tended bar and waited tables. Needless to say, Sunday nights were slow (though I did make a lot of money. He came in a few times on Sundays, on his days off. Was it for the free beer? Maybe. We wound up talking and reacquainting ourselves. One night, we went home together. I remember, as we hugged outside the bar, a precursor to an evening of pleasure, I smelled him and felt like I was home. We made love. I missed him. I was instantly reconnected with the intensity of my feelings for him.
He, however, was seeing Megan, a girl with a boyfriend, named Chris. How unfair. I wanted to rekindle us. This did not happen. There was no us. Again, the love was one-sided. He wanted to be with his girlfriend with a boyfriend. This was obvious. I threw things, cried, hated her, hated him.
I moved on, dated other people. I had emotional upheavals and and my "friends" abandoned me in my time of need (my grandfather died). I was in graduate school. I joined a band. My mind was in other places. I was having an existential crisis akin to the one I felt when Jason and I broke up. I reevaluated my friendships and my relationship with time changed. I would no longer spend time with those with whom drinking and (not wom- but)manizing was the common bond. I wanted my relationships to be deeper than that.
Meanwhile, Cris got fired from the Zodiac and became a bike messenger. One night, his bike was stolen and he knew that he was out of a job. Ceremonially, he shaved his legs as an offering to the bike gods and went cross-country to visit his sister in Portland, Oregon. I thought he'd never return. I wrote him off.
I got into the habit of going to a few bars (this was in the summer of 2000), The Mount Royal Tavern and Dougherty's. One night, while bar hopping, I ran into Cris. He's returned from Portland, much to my surprise. I got a beer, he got a shot, and we talked. He told me he'd marry me that day if he could. He changed, he knew what was important. He was ready for the relationship that I'd always wanted. I wanted it too, so much. We were back together.
The relationship was turmoil for a while. But I got used to his habits. In fact, I incorporated them into my life. He got up late. So did I. He was off on Sundays... so was I! Whatever he wanted, I made sure I was available. I'd wait for him to get off of work, walk his dog, and we'd drink beer and play Scrabble until the wee hours. I just wanted to be around him... no matter what. He spent the night a lot. We were together a lot. A year later, it just made sense that we should move in together. So we did.
I "had" him. He "had" me. What more did we need? So we stopped trying. When did we see each other? In passing. No longer did we make the effort to spend time. No longer did we have sex. We were going through the motions.
I graduated. I had been working at a Mexican restaurant, Holy Frijoles, to get me through graduate school. I had no prospects for a position in academia, so I worked at the restaurant full-time. There were 2 locations, uptown and downtown. When I picked up shifts at the one downtown, things got crazy. This was after "9/11," a time that changed America's psyche. I was becoming increasingly skeptical, increasingly political. Cris was what I call "practical." I wanted revolution. I wanted friends who wanted the same.
I met Brian. Brian had just graduated from American University in DC. He got his degree in English/Literature. Brian had participated in anti-captitalist protests. He's been arrested for civil disobedience. He'd quote Audre Lorde. He was professor. He offered me the illusion of what life "could be." I could have a fulfilling romantic relationship with this person. We could live our revolution. We could coexist in a fashion that Cris and I couldn't. I fell in love with an illusion. One night, I was talking to my mother on the porch of Cris and my shared home. I was on the porch swing that his mother bought us... a porch swing that I desired and that Cris used to smoke cigarettes. I said, "This isn't what I want. I want a person who desires a quiet life, a person who is intellectual. A person more like me." I had Brian in mind.
I don't think it is fair to mention that this happened in accordance with the fall, deterioration and subsequent death of my grandmother. I called my grandmother that day, asking her if she needed to go shopping in the afternoon, before I went to work. "No, " she said, "your mother is going to take me." Okay, I'll just putz around the house and then go to work. After I arrived at work, I got a phone call from my mother, "Your grandmother fell. She's at the hospital. She's not doing well." I found someone to work for me and quickly made my way to the hospital. My grandmother was not expected to make it through the night.
I called Cris. Being that he was close to his grandmother, he could understand my devastation. My mother, my Uncle Joe, and I sat in a hospital room all night watching, waiting for my grandmother to die. I called Cris every couple of hours through the night. He was so supportive. "Oh, honey, I am so sorry." he said. "Call me if anything happens, if you need anything. I'll keep the phone by my side."
Around 6 in the morning, my grandmother made, according to the doctors, "miraculous" improvements. She was slated for brain surgery... "We think we can save her." they said, citing a 50/50 chance of survivial. All night, I had endured discomfort in my tight, "tip-making" jeans. I longed to be in comfortable clothes with comfortable people surrounding me. I wanted Cris to come to the hospital with a change of clothes. I wanted to be in his arms. He'd been so supportive. Any thought I had of Brian immediately dissipated. I knew Cris was the only one who could understand.
Unfortunately, I called and called home... no answer. Finally, I decided to make my way home to change while my grandmother was in surgery. I told her, "I'll be right back." She responded, "Okay."
A miracle! We thought she was brain-dead.
I got home and Cris was asleep. He didn't hear the phone. I woke him and told him about the changes. I said, "She's having brain surgery. She has a 50/50 chance. Will you come sit with me?"
He was too tired. He'd been up all night. He drank an entire bottle of wine. No, he couldn't come.
"I'll let you know if my grandmother lives or dies." I said.
Reluctantly, he got out of bed as if to say, "Fine, you want me there, I'll come. It is not my desire to do so."
His indignance suggested he would come not out of concern but out of obligation. He threw on his pants. While brushing his teeth he glared at me and said, "You're so selfish."
I hit him. I screamed, "You have NO IDEA WHAT I'VE GONE THROUGH TONIGHT!" The person I thought could support me was not available. I knew then we had to break up.
My grandmother was still in surgery when Cris and I arrived at the hospital.
"I'm breaking up with him." I told my mother.
"Why?" she asked.
I told her what happened.
"Don't you love him.?"
"Yes, very much. But I love me more."
I knew it was over. I contintued to the charade for another month and a half. He bought me birthday and Christmas presents. I bought him Christmas presents.
I broke up with him in the middle of January, 2002.
Honestly, I'd maintained contact with Brian. I thought he was "Mr. Perfect." In reality, he made it easier to end something I knew I needed to end.
When I broke up with Cris, he was devastated. I was preoccupied with daily trips to the hospital to care for my grandmother. I was preoccupied with the illusion that Brian was perfect for me. I just didn't want to deal with the deterioration of a relationship that I'd put so much of my soul into. How could I deal with so much loss at once?
Brian and I had a brief love affair - we steeped it in the expectation that neither of us had human tendencies and that neither were our exes. This was, of course, a relationship doomed to failure.
Cris found out about Brian. I am sure he hated me for a while. But, eventually, he joined a band, got the girls, and we were able to be friends.
This was not the end.
posted by Heather at 11:32 AM
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