and then the phone rang

Today was a little intense at work. A pre-meeting meeting to prep for some exploratory conversation. And then the exploratory conversation itself. Which went really well, but went long, and only served to further illuminate just how big of a chunk I’ve bitten off.

And speaking of biting, this little back to back session happened during lunch. But did not actually involve any lunch. I think meetings during lunch hours should involve food, even if its a working lunch. By the time we were done my energy was drained and my stomach was growling.

I assembled my salad, grabbed a container of watermelon from the fridge and settled into my desk fully intending to spend some quality time with D-Listed and Texts From Last Night. But then my phone rang. And I was needed. But I was told I could bring lunch.

So back upstairs I went. To a mostly empty office. To work out some project details with a colleague who is also a good friend. And she was clearly having a rough day. So we started talking. And I lamely ate my salad while she poured her heart out to me. And then I counseled, because that’s what I do. And then I shared some things. And we talked about our future career paths, something she and I have always done. We once planned on going to grad school together.

She and I are both at tipping points. Or it feels that way. Only we’re each a little unsure of which way to go. Struggling to either figure out the next step or to find peace where we’re at. We missed a birthday celebration. But it was important for us to talk that way. An hour and a half after I walked into her office, I returned to my desk.

I picked up my now room temperature watermelon and just sat at my desk, trying to decompress. And then my phone rang. Only this time it wasn’t the extension at my desk. It was my cell phone. And it was Aaron. I’d kicked off my heels but didn’t care. I picked up my watermelon and went skittering out to the parking lot. Stepping quickly over the hot pavement. Finding a spot in the shade under a tree.

Our last calls have all been so brief we’ve hardly said hello before we’ve had to go. They’ve been squeezed into illicit moments. He’s sounded stressed. I’ve felt disconnected. Today was different. He was relaxed and happy. A mutual friend of ours is in town and he’d just returned from that meet up. We had the first meaningful conversation in weeks.

Which of course, me being me, got me a little misty eyed. And in a lull in the conversation it just burst out.

“I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“Aww, bugaboo. I miss you too. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ve  just been feeling so detached from you and missing you and just…”

“I know baby. It’s on me. I don’t call you enough.”

It was wonderful to hear from him. It was so wonderful to hear his voice. But not just his voice. There was something else there. A spark that’s been missing between us. I was afraid that spark had been lost in all the shuffle. It’s very reassuring to know it’s still there.

needs

Asking for what I need is the one of the hardest things in the world  for me to do. I could posit a reason why, but it wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already written. Anyone who’s spent any time on this blog knows why. Let’s just leave it there. It’s hard. It plays right into all my trust issues.

So often I find myself taking the passive aggressive approach. Or trying to lead by example. I’ll do the things I want you to do. Thinking that you’ll see, and recognize, and mirror. And I’ll have gotten what I want without having to actually verbalize the request. But when that doesn’t happen I get defensive. I shut down. I brush things off as though they don’t matter, even when they really do.

I’m still so fragile sometimes. The slightest comment can set something off. It happened tonight. A conversation that started out innocuous enough, but took a swift turn. A conversation wherein I was told I wasn’t being clear enough. About what I want and need. A statement that frustrated me. Because I feel like I’ve been more than clear. But have I? Maybe I haven’t. In the moment I actually had the words “just never mind, forget I asked” typed out onto my blackberry.

But I couldn’t press send.

Because I don’t want to be that person. The person who can’t say what she wants. Who lives in fear of asking her partners to meet her needs. I’ve been in this place before. This place is not new. The place where I want to change. But things are different these days. For the first time in a very, very long time, maybe ever, there is someone in my life who makes me feel safe enough to just say it. To say, this is what I want, what I need.

And that’s what I did. Ultimately. In a flood of words that may not have made much sense and may have contradicted things I’ve said before and stopped as soon as they started.

I am not easy to love. I test people, even without meaning to. I push and pull until I see where the breaking points are. All the while waiting for the day that you leave, knowing that it’s inevitable. Even in my closest relationships there are walls that stand so tall and are set so deep into the ground that they just won’t go anywhere.

But he seems to be finding ways over and around those walls. He’s not promising me happily ever after. A lifetime of moonlight and roses. He’s not promising forever. Promises I wouldn’t believe anyway. Instead he’s looking directly at me and saying, “you and I are going to hurt each other. There will be missteps. But I’m signing up for the pissiness and the grumpiness of it all. You’re safe. Don’t push me away. Be cautious if you like, but I’m here for the long ride.”

I can scroll through saved text after saved text from him that all say the same thing. I’m not going anywhere. And although I still don’t quite trust it, although it still feels a bit like a dream, there is also something about it, about him, that feels like I’ve finally come home. Because I keep inching closer and closer to the edge of that wall. To the edge of that comfort zone. Afraid that this will be the time when it’s too far. When it’s too much. But he has been there every time. Always with the same words. You need not worry about me. I’m not going anywhere.

~~~~~

“Everything”

I can be an asshole of the grandest kind
I can withhold like it’s going out of style
I can be the moodiest baby and you’ve never met anyone
Who is as negative as I am sometimes

I am the wisest woman you’ve ever met.
I am the kindest soul with whom you’ve connected.
I have the bravest heart that you’ve ever seen
And you’ve never met anyone
Who’s as positive as I am sometimes.

You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I’m ashamed
There’s not anything to which you can’t relate
And you’re still here

I blame everyone else, not my own partaking
My passive-aggressiveness can be devastating
I’m terrified and mistrusting
And you’ve never met anyone as,
As closed down as I am sometimes.

You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I’m ashamed
There’s not anything to which you can’t relate
And you’re still here

What I resist, persists, and speaks louder than I know
What I resist, you love, no matter how low or high I go

I’m the funniest woman that you’ve ever known
I’m the dullest woman that you’ve ever known
I’m the most gorgeous woman that you’ve ever known
And you’ve never met anyone
Who is as everything as I am sometimes

You see everything (you see everything), you see every part (you see every part )
You see all my light (you see all my light) and you love my dark (and you love my dark )
You dig everything (you dig everything) of which I’m ashamed (of which I’m ashamed)
There’s not anything (there’s not anything) to which you can’t relate (to which you can’t relate)
And you’re still here

(You see everything, you see every part)
And you’re still here
(You see all my light and you love my dark)
And you’re still here
(You dig everything of which I’m ashamed)
(There’s not anything to which you can’t relate)
And you’re still here…

why should i care

Was there something more I could have done?
Or was I not meant to be the one?
Where`s the life I thought we would share?
And should I care?

And will someone else get more of you?
Will she go to sleep more sure of you?
Will she wake up knowing you`re still there?
And why should I care?

There`s always one to turn and walk away
And one who just wants to stay
But who said that love is always fair?
And why should I care?

Should I leave you alone here in the dark?
Holding my broken heart
While a promise still hangs in the air
Why should I care?

Reframing

It was such a brief conversation. No more than 10 minutes as we both walked the aisles of the grocery store. He was buying juice and diapers. I was buying basil and beer. The comments were almost tossed off. Asides to a larger conversation.

“You know I travel with a crew now.”

“She’s OK if we play, we just can’t fuck.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. In the cooler section. The 6 pack of apricot ale I’d just selected all of a sudden very heavy in my hand.

“Wait, what? We can’t fuck? Have you told her how you feel about me? How you’ve said you’ve felt?”

“Well baby, it’s not like we traded essays.”

And then he had to go. I could hear the baby starting to cry. I bit the inside of my cheek and willed my own tears to stay put. Crying in Safeway was not on my to do list that evening. But once I hit the parking lot I couldn’t hold them back. Somehow in the space of that conversation all of the pieces finally fell into place.

How he came here in January he didn’t tell her, because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. How he wouldn’t give her a straight answer when she found evidence of my last visit in his apartment. How he’ll step into the next room to take a call from her when he and I are together but my calls to him when she is there always roll to voice mail.

The truth is, that back in September, when she got pregnant and he told me she needed to know about me. He wasn’t entirely honest. He confessed his physical infidelity. He did not confess his feelings. And that makes all the difference.

We’ve had this discussion before. He always retreats to a position of me not wanting to share him. But that’s not the case. There has been plenty of extracurricular fucking around for both of us. I don’t care at all about that. What I care about is that there is a person in his life, who he readily admits there is a minimal relationship with, that still has this hold over him.

Even though, by his words, she’s not the smartest person. She has no drive. The sex isn’t good. She wants him to change any number of things about himself. That a five day vacation with her is four days too many. A woman who went off birth control without telling him and trapped him into having a child.

This is the person for whom you will make all kinds of concessions to spare her feelings?

This is the person you continually choose over me?

When I am the one you once said you wanted to spend a life time with. That made you think of marriage and children for the first time ever. The one you said finally gave you the freedom to be who you are. Who embraced your sexuality and made you feel normal.

Just because I’m the one with whom you can be open and honest and not filter anything, my feelings somehow don’t count? Because I’ll understand? I’m not OK with that.

And I’ve spent the majority of our relationship giving him the space he needed to deal with his situation. I think I’ve been more than understanding. All I have ever, ever wanted, from him or from anybody, is to be met in the middle. To know that he wants me around. I need people in my life who will fight.

And he’s lost his fight. He’s resigning himself to a life that he does not want.

I’ve spent the last several days crying. And sitting in the dark listening to the most melancholy jazz I own. Drinking. And fucking men I care nothing about just to distract myself a little.

I took his pictures down. Most of them.I’ve quietly told my closest friends. His photo will stay on my desk at work for a while. I need to take my time with that one. Even when I take it down he’ll be everywhere. On the cover of so many of our publications. Quite literally larger than life on a banner that hangs at my theater. And his head shot remains atop my piano.

I’m reframing our relationship. There will be no declarative email. No impassioned speech. I’m just letting him go. I’m no longer thinking of him as my primary partner. As my boyfriend Aaron. He’s just my friend. With whom there is a romantic past. And although the door is still open for a romantic future, he needs to be the one to walk through it. With purpose.

I’ll still talk to him when he calls. But no more calling him baby. No more “I love you.” No more random text messages that he doesn’t respond to anyway.

My needs are really very simple. I just need to know that I’m loved and that you want to be in my life. Remind me often if you have to. But assure me of that and there’s nothing I won’t do. There’s no end to my patience. Right now he just can’t give me that. And I deserve nothing less.

what a difference a year makes

I had to wait for the elevator this morning. While it was taking its sweet time creaking and groaning up three flights, I decided to check facebook on my blackberry. As soon as I nudged my phone to life I saw the date on the screen. And like a thunderbolt it hit me. It was exactly a year ago that Aaron left our apartment and went back to Minneapolis.

A year ago I drove him to the airport in silence. Embraced him at the curb and heard his voice in my ear telling me he would always love me. On that day there was little doubt that he would be a part of my life. Always. Forever.

Oh how far we’ve traveled in the last year.

So far I can’t even recognize the relationship anymore. I look at who we once were and it seems a like a lifetime ago. Surely these twelve months each had 90 days.

I am no longer entirely sure what I feel for him. I have so much to say on this topic. So much that has been foggy and fuzzy in the dark corners of my brains. Things that were brought into sharp, sharp focus this evening.

But I simply don’t have the energy to write about it. Not tonight.