a love story (as only they happen in my messed up world)
So, you all know that St. Elmo and I broke up. While I’m in a relationship, I don’t air dirty laundry. I don’t tell my friends all the problems or issues or arguments. But once it’s over, then I don’t feel like I have to protect the privacy as much.
I’m going to try to construct a time-line that you can easily follow and that will help me attempt to make sense of it all. Get ready for the novel. I apologize in advance for the profuse profanity. Sometimes, ok most of the time, I just can’t help it and sometimes you need it to get a point across.
It will be more vague and limited in the early months and get more in-depth for the recent weeks. Here goes:
Late August: First date. Met for coffee. Wasn’t the smoothest date, but wasn’t the worst date either. I found him very attractive and being the superficial person I am, wanted a second date because he passed the litmus test of me wanting to kiss him.
Early September: Nothing, nada, zero contact from him.
Late September: I emailed him asking him if he was doing a particular race that weekend. That led to more emails and the lines of communication were open.
Early October: Lots of emails and text messages, but no solid plans to meet up, even though we both kept suggesting it. The one night we were supposed to meet up, he had to cancel.
Late October: We finally meet for Sunday brunch. Another “dry” date, but we had a great time. This was the date he said was the turning point for him and he really began to like me.
Early November: Again, kept trying to make plans to meet, but they would get messed up. Finally, meet for drinks (woo hoo!) on a Friday night. Fantastic date! That was the date that was the turning point for me in liking him.
Late November: The week of Thanksgiving, we probably saw each other every single day, except for Turkey Day.
Early December: We are hanging out more and more, getting to really know each other. I really like him. He brings presents for my cat. He sends me roses. He’s super thoughtful and considerate. Despite not having known each other for that long, we both begin for fall for each other. We both had our respective freak-outs. We talked it through. We both begin to think that this could be it. We begin to talk about what kind of future we’d want, and in general, what kind of wedding we’d want, where we’d want to live, how we’d raise kids. And all of these talks were had with the unsaid belief that we’d do these things together. That’s how strongly we felt for one another (and what fueled the freak-outs).
Late December: It’s the holidays, I went down to Florida. We emailed, texted, called the whole time I was down there. For Xmas, he gave me a beautiful necklace from Tiffany’s. I got him books (haha!). He was planning on picking me up from the airport (huge deal for NYCers), but with the blizzard, flight cancellations and me being stuck in Miami, that didn’t happen. But he kept me company all night via phone. We planned on spending NYE at his parents. This would be the first time meeting them. We had a great time. I loved them, they loved me.
January: He starts spending more and more time at my apartment, which eventually turns into him moving in, unofficially. It was great having him there.
February: There was an argument, our first ever, about a ski house that I do every year, but we resolved it. There started to be a recurring issue with me being so independent and needing “me time” and “quiet time”, something he was not used to. It was especially troublesome considering we were in my small apartment, in each other’s faces all the time. The lack of space was beginning to take its toll. But overall, things were still really good. There was talk of getting a bigger place once my lease was up or taking over his parents place for a year (more on that later). We enjoyed lots of nights out. We did things on the weekend together. We commuted home from work together every day. We had a really nice Valentine’s day, despite me wanting to boycott it. I got beautiful diamond earrings. He got an iPod and a booked hotel in DC for his Half Marathon (and an awesome card pointed out to me by Jen – thanks, Jen!).
March: The lack of space issue, quiet issue, me time issue keep rearing their ugly heads and we have to address at least one of them a few times a week. We can’t come up with a good solution and we are getting no where and no where fast. But things were still going well, so I thought.
Third week in March: We went to DC for his Half. It was actually a really great and fun trip. We used it as “us” time and didn’t tell friends who live down there that we were in town. It was, after all, our first out-of-town trip together. While we were down there, sometime in the overnight hours of Saturday to Sunday, he received a call that went to voicemail. It was from ADT alarm systems. The alarm had gone off at his Ex’s house. His phone number was still on the contract as the contact (a residual from when he lived there). He told me about the voicemail and called ADT to check to make sure things were ok and to ask them to remove his name and number from the contacts. It turns out it’s not that easy as there’s paperwork and whatnot. Whatever.
Last week in March: A few days after getting back from DC, we were out for dinner after work on a Wednesday. On the way home, he lays it on me that he may not want kids. OK, this might not have been as big of an issue had it not been for the fact that he talked about having kids from the get-go of our relationship and even talked about having them with me. This was the “deal breaker” that I alluded to in previous posts. I was 100% sure that I wanted kids. He wasn’t. In my little warped mind, I took it as he doesn’t want kids at all. I possibly, may have over-reacted. There was crying (me), silent treatments (me) and tons of discomfort (both of us) in my apartment. On Thursday of that week, he goes out with co-workers for drinks, while I am home and still upset. He comes home and there’s talking, crying, accusations. On Friday, again he goes out for drinks, while I go home tired, upset, with no appetite. He comes home tipsy and the talking, crying, accusations fly again. Saturday morning, we are able to talk rationally. He still doesn’t think he wants kids, but isn’t sure. He leaves to go run some errands. He calls and suggests that we should do our own thing during the day, which I’m fine with because the apartment desperately needed cleaning. He came home that afternoon. I’m still quiet and a bit despondent, which makes him really uncomfortable. We order dinner after going back and forth about either going out to grab something or ordering in. I barely eat anything as my appetite flew the coop and we watch a movie. Later that night, he suggests that we take the “step back”. That we rushed things (no shit, Sherlock), that we need to figure out some things (the kids issue). I agree and he is going to stay at his parents for a bit, with the option of moving back [back story with his parent’s place is that his parents retired to Peru, but still own an apt in the city. They come back for a couple of months here and there. He was living there while they were gone and paying the mortgage, etc, but for some reason this past year they stayed way longer than ever expected. His dad is currently there, while his mom went to Peru end of Feb and will be back in 1.5 weeks. This was also one of the reasons for him living with me. His parents, though, plan on leaving for at least a full year in October. This is what gave St. Elmo the thought we could take up residence in the apt]. Sunday morning, he packed his stuff, but not all of it, as there’s still a bunch of stuff in my apt, and left. I broke down when the door shut behind him and cried my eyes out. Maybe deep down inside, I knew it was the beginning of the end. Women’s intuition or something. That was just one and a half weeks ago, April 3rd.
We had decided that in our time apart, we’d do lots of thinking, but have no contact. Then we’d meet on Friday to talk.
Now we come to Friday, April 10th, and we meet for dinner and drinks in my neighborhood. It was a little tense at first, as you can imagine, but things loosened up with beer and copious amounts of it. We actually had a really good time and we talked about the kids issue without any problem. He wound up spending the night. We went to breakfast the next morning. He left for his home around 10am. He texted asking if I wanted to check out an apartment with him at 1PM. I agreed and met him in the East Village. After seeing a terrible apartment, we decided to just walk around. We walked around the Village, Soho, Nolita. Then we decided to go to the Seaport and grab a late lunch. Afterward, in our pursuit of a bathroom, we stumbled across the downtown Les Halles. We figure that if we need to get a drink to justify our use of their facilities, than so be it. We plop down at the bar and spend the next 3 hours there, drinking and eventually eating again. Afterwards, he drops me off at my home and heads to his. On Sunday morning around 7:30AM, I get a text from him asking me if I am running the race – we had both signed up for it. As I hadn’t eaten much (despite breakfast, lunch and dinner with St. Elmo, I picked at my food) and being dehydrated from drinking, I wasn’t sure. But then I thought I’ve got to do it. Suck it up and run 6.2 miles (nevermind that I hadn’t really run in over a month). I came from the East side and he came from the West side, so we didn’t meet up before the race, but texted and talked on the phone. As he’s a much faster runner than I am, he was going to wait for me to finish and then we’d go grab brunch. I admittedly had a really tough time with running. I wanted to give up, but the thought that he was waiting at the finish line for me kept me going. After way too much time, I approached the finish line and saw him standing front and center, waving, smiling, trying to take my picture. I was exhausted, dehydrated, hungry and on the verge of tears. We went to brunch and I thought things were going well. Like we were on the way to working things out.
How very wrong I was.
He called me that night, Sunday night around 7PM, to talk about us. The majority of the conversation revolved around what he deemed to be “unfixable” problems in our relationship. We ended the call with the expectation that we would meet up Tuesday or Wednesday and talk again.
A little bit later Sunday night, he texts me…”when you find the person you want to marry, would you move forward without doubt that the person/relationship will work out?”
I give him my answer and then some other random questions shoot my way, all of which I answer.
This proceeds with him telling me that while we were on our break (and I’m having a really bad Friends moment here), he reached out to his Ex. He needed closure. They wound up meeting for drinks and talking. He needed to know that she was ok (stemming from the alarm incident, I think) and needed to tell her some things, get them off his chest.
Then came the bombshell from him.
“I am not over my ex. I’m in love with someone who is totally wrong for me but I have to try. You and I were developing feelings that could have grown into something, but I just couldn’t move on” << What the fuck?????? Again, what the fuck????? He wants to go back to the Ex? Fucking shoot me and put me out of my misery. Did the last 5+ months we spent together not mean a damn thing? Was it all a lie every time he told me he loved me? Were the conversations about our future just blowing smoke up my ass? What the fuck?
On Monday, I’m pretty much beside myself. I am bombarding him with questions and thoughts and my feelings and my suggestions. He was pretty much silent, which he blamed to being busy at work. Ok, fine, not everyone can take two days and email (Monday) or blog (today) all day like I can. Hey, I actually turned out a ton of work yesterday. But anyhoo. I send him an email before leaving work telling him that I’ve poured my heart out to him. He knows exactly my feelings and where I stand on everything. I don’t know shit from him. And this really bothers me, to put it mildly.
Now to Tuesday night (last night, 4/12) and he emails me “I’m in love with my ex. I’m sorry.” ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? We email back and forth, cause remember, he’s living at his parents and has no privacy. I ask him if he’s definitely going back to her (the Ex). He says “yes”. I ask if he’s moving back in with her, he says “yes”. I proceed to call him the stupidest asshole on the face of the earth. Hey, I never said I didn’t have immature tendencies. Told him he was an asshole for the way he treated me. He was an asshole for using me. That he was just a plain old enormous asshole. A stupid asshole for thinking going back to a bad relationship is a wise choice. I also called myself a stupid asshole for being in love with a stupid asshole, despite all his assholeness.
We essentially broke up by way of emails and texts, the 2011 version of the Post-It. Fuck me (or ifUseekAmy << there’s a reason I chose that name).
Here’s the back story about the Ex. They dated on/off for 2-3 years. She was the relationship before me, and like, right before me, though he insists it was “over in his mind” at the beginning of 2010. But he was still living there (out of convenience) until September. He lived with her and her daughter (who I think is 14 or 15 years old now) on/off for the duration of the relationship. He admitted that he’d moved in or out at least 6 times last year. That’s freaking crazy. And there is seriously something wrong with the relationship if one or the other ended it half a dozen or so times. It was a tumultuous relationship with a lot of fighting/arguing. One area of conflict was her drinking too much. He constantly told me about how bad she was for him. How the relationship was toxic. How stressful it was. How he hadn’t been truly happy in so long, until me. This is all I heard about the Ex, how bad she was, even when he was telling me he’s still in love with her! What the fuck is wrong with this man?
That’s what I don’t get. I get that he felt we rushed things. We did, everyone knows that. I get that having things move so quickly freaked him out. I get the reason for wanting to take a step back. I get that he wants to establish some roots, which is why I wholeheartedly supported him getting his own place. He’s not super happy at work, so I encouraged him to find something he loved. Even after he told me that he was still in love with the Ex, I kept telling him that he needs to move forward, with or without me, but most definitely without the Ex. And I wasn’t just saying that because of my feelings for him. I was telling him that as a logical human being who sees that his going back to that relationship is just a train wreck waiting to happen. Does he not remember the fighting? Her excessive drinking? The unhappiness? He thinks it’ll be different this time ‘round? Umm, no. It might be a different year, but it’s the same people with the same problems. I DON’T GET IT!
That, my friends, is the great love story of Amy and St. Elmo. Riveting, ain’t it? That’s what fairy tales (or nightmares) are made of. Stay tuned, kids, for updates as this story is not quite over… We are still in “talking mode” as I try to get answers to all my “what the fuck?”, “why the fuck?”, “how the fuck?” and “when the fuck?” questions. Ahh, fuck.