Reality Hits Home ...

I had written the most beautiful post, and it’s all gone—yet another hour of wasted thoughts lost to the oblivion of the internet. Well, I guess I shall try it again---no promises that it will be as good the second time around.

This blog is currently untitled because I don’t know how to put a title on it. I guess I don’t know how to feel. It has taken some weeks to put this into words—to put it all down on paper—and my head is swimming with emotions.

Before I get ahead of myself, I need to go back a few months.

It might have been the end of July that I first noticed that J started to come to my office more. It seemed odd somehow, and he almost reminded me of how things used to be between us—before there were so many things left unsaid. There was a sort of lightness in the air, but a sadness too—one I couldn’t place.

At some point, he asked me to go to a movie with him—it had really been the third time we really talked about it. But I blew him off, because he often says things and doesn’t follow through on them or doesn’t mean them (this is ironically going to come into play later).

I didn’t take the “offer” seriously for a couple of reasons. The first one being the fact that the entire ugly scene played itself in my mind—would we go to the movie alone? What would his girlfriend have to say about that? ( I knew she didn’t like me probably for completely irrational reasons ). What if she accompanied him? Would we exchange awkward and meaningless pleasantries and then sit in uncomfortable silence throughout the movie and then go on our own way? And why did I get the feeling that he wanted something from me?

The other reason I didn’t really want to go is because I knew it wasn’t fair to A (the guy I was currently dating). He had no idea of the turmoil of emotions that were playing themselves in my heart. The truth was, he was about to move in. I can’t believe I’m admitting this. He was about to move in and I’m not sure I was ready for that yet. How many times has someone moved in with me only to have it end miserably when the time came for me to walk away? I’ve gotten so tired of breaking so many hearts … one thing I knew about him, was that he deserved better. His last girlfriend cheated on him right under his nose and yet … I think in the back of my heart, I was still hoping that J would come back to me.

I finally gave in and agreed to see a movie with him and agreed to meet him at his house—he moved back to the place he and I had shared a few years ago. My anxiety mounted when he didn’t mention his girlfriend or whether or not she would be joining us. My plan was to make the best of it. So I approached his door and waited for her to answer—but she didn’t. And when I saw the house mysteriously quiet and dark behind him, I admit I was relieved. There were signs of his daughter everywhere-scribbled chalk on the pavement and toys left abandoned on the front patio.

He closed the door quickly behind him, and I was left to wonder about the whereabouts of his girlfriend and baby.

We made small, uncomfortable small talk as we approached the theater. Why was I so guarded around him? Then again, didn’t I have the right to be? I wanted to ask about his girlfriend, but I was still taking it all in and—I guess a part of me didn’t want to ask about her either. Why pretend to care about someone who disliked me? No need to be fake…

When we got to the theater, he made some comment about “visiting” with his daughter, and when I turned to him with a look of surprise, he told me that he and his girlfriend had broken up and had been separated for a few months.

Wow! I think that was my exact response to him. Perhaps that explained the sadness? We watched the movie and I sat silently in shock. The thing I had asked for, prayed for, finally was happening. The movie ended and I drove him home; he invited me inside.

Signs of his daughter were everywhere—a little chair, toys strewn on the couch, random colorful stickers stuck to the coffee table. There was a picture too, a picture of the three of them, on the mantle of the open kitchen. It almost felt like I was trespassing in a world that didn’t belong to me anymore, in a life that wasn’t mine. Suddenly, it felt like the world was closing in on me—the room felt suffocating. This was not exactly how I pictured it would be.

As I looked at J, I could see the beginnings of gray starting to form on his perfectly beautiful dark black hair; the signs of age creeping up on him. I suddenly wondered where the years had gone and how, just for a moment, I could have pretended that things weren’t the way they were?

He seemed to be the same person I remembered, and yet much different—gray was not the only sign that he was getting older. There was a sadness in his eyes as he described how he had no plans to return to his girlfriend after the things she had said to him. He refused to tell me what those things were, but I didn’t press for details. Did I want to know? Yes. Would it hurt me or suck me back in? Yes. I was determined to stay neutral, to see if this was real or just a dream.

I kept questioning him about whether he was going back, and he said he would never go back after the things that were said, supposedly getting “ugly” in Court over the custody rights of their daughter. I couldn’t figure it out. Why would a girl with no real future or means of having a future leave her paycheck? I knew she didn’t have a job and while I don’t mean to speak badly of her, I’m sure she’s very bright, I doubted that she would get a decent job anytime soon given the state of the economy and her lack of education. So then why would she, as he had said, abandon such a good life? Oh sure, J didn’t make the money he appeared to make—he probably appeared to her to have it made with his previously large house. But I knew the truth, knew that he probably over-extended himself to maintain appearances. But I didn’t care—I didn’t want him for his money. I loved who he was. Apparently, she did not feel the same.
Once we got to his house, it was as if he didn’t know what to do with me, and I quickly left. But through several more conversations, I definitely got the feeling that he wanted something from me. Did he want to regain old times? Be my friend? Did he even realize what such a friendship would cost? Would she be pissed if she knew we were friends again? Or was there more on his mind than friendship? One thing that stuck in my head was how many times he assured me he wasn’t going back to her—how he almost became angry with me at one point telling me that it was over and how he’d missed our friendship.

I wasn’t the only one who had noticed his more frequent visits to the office. Several of our “mutual” friends noticed also—and questioned me about it almost to the point of annoyance. One person in particular noted the smile on my face when they brought up his name. Yes, I wanted to believe the things he said … but then there were my other friends talking as well as the voice of reason in my head.

Some friends suggested we should try to make things work this time—try to see where things went after the dust of his custody battle settled. See how it went. I wanted to be guarded so that he didn’t see my thinly veiled hopefulness and my faith in him.

But all that came with a price—because A had moved in and I couldn’t very well have J over during the small amount of time that A would be living with me (we had agreed he would stay with me a couple of months until he got on his feet again).

There was only one RIGHT thing to do—and it was difficult. I told A the truth and I told him everything; I didn’t want to hurt him, but at the same time, I needed him to understand how difficult this was for me. It was as if, I don’t know, maybe I was getting a second chance.

But other friends discouraged it-were vehemently against the idea. They told me that even thinking about it was a bad idea because exes are always exes for a reason. If they haven’t “fixed” whatever made them an ex in the first place, then nothing will change. My friend reminded me that he probably hadn’t changed, and the reality was, I wanted children and he had carefully built up his life to avoid them. He even talked about how he felt he was “too old” for children. He even felt the need to resort to being condescending to me, telling me “You don’t know what it’s like because you don’t have children.” While that may be true, that does not stop my wanting to have a child. I realize the heartache, the work, the struggle, the everything, and giving J a second chance probably meant abandoning my hope of raising one (or two?) of my own.

All of these things and more ran through my head. I wasn’t the only one who was guarded; he invited me to his place once, then pretended to be tired so that I would leave just a little over an hour and a half of getting there. He tells me how he’s exhausted and plans to go straight to bed. I go home, frankly surprised, that he would have me drive half and hour to see him only to be too “tired” to hang out with me. When I get home, I discover he is online, playing a game. When I catch him at it, he makes some excuse to me. How old is he that he feels the need to continue to lie to me after all this time? He wasn’t man enough to tell me that he wanted to do other things, he would rather lie than be honest. Was this a sign of the man he’d become or the man he always was and I just never saw it before?

Meanwhile, there was A, as wonderful as ever. Trying to make me dinner and failing miserably at it, encouraging me to foster a good friendship with J. What in the world was I doing?

Perhaps the best thing for me would be to develop a friendship with J again and see how it all played out. So I did what was best for me, I backed away. I’m 31 years old and I am tired of playing games; I don’t need to be lied to.

So fast forward a few weeks and Christmas is coming up. I make J some fudge and we chat in my office at some point about random things. There is no mention of anything serious—until a few days before Christmas. He ends up telling me that he and his girlfriend have gotten back together again and she is going to be moving back in.

Wait… what? Did I miss something? Didn’t he just tell me that he was done? Didn’t he just spend hours convincing me that he was never going back? And now he’s changed his mind?

The incredulousness of this and it hit me all at once and I found myself for the LAST time stunned. In essence, he lied to me. What would have happened if I had let him back into my good graces? Would he have gotten back together with her anyway? And would he have been honest with me about it?

Suddenly, I could look at the situation with perfect clarity and realized that he’s a liar and that’s the plain and simple –and ironic truth. He lies to me, he lies to his friends and family, and worse, he lies to himself.

I sneakingly suspect that he’s only getting back with her for convenience, to have a warm body for the holidays, to make it easier on the pocketbook, or whatever reason he’s invented in his head. Perhaps being a single dad-the harsh reality of parenthood too much responsibility for him to handle alone.

I found myself shocked, possibly because I actually believed his lies yet again. I believe that he is like two people—one conflicted with his real life, and one that lives in the other world—the one he wants. But until the two worlds come together, I don’t feel he’ll ever be truly happy. I guess if I had been with him, I would have been happy for a while—until he lied to me, or until something else happened to shatter my hopefulness.

Meanwhile, this has taught me a valuable lesson about life and about how sometimes it takes trying something new to realize what you do and don’t want.

I want to be the girl who raises a family and takes care of my husband. I don’t mind being the girl who goes to soccer practice or baseball games or anything because it will put a smile on my child’s face. I will fight the sleep off my face to comfort a crying baby. I will fight to be a good and strong parent who loves and encourages my children.
But I can’t live in a world where I am lied to, or a world where having someone to love means sacrificing myself for their needs and wants just so that I can be a “servant girl” to make their life easier. I don’t mind doing the work if I get rewarded in some way. I realized that J would never put in the work it takes for a successful and lasting relationship. My love for him would not be enough to carry us through all of the tough times we’d face or the challenges and obstacles that life would bring us.

As I mentioned, I realized that he’s not what I want anymore. A takes care of me, and is willing to go to the store for me even at 10:00 at night when he’s in his “comfy pants” because I am sick and need medicine. I have to beg him not to go. He proudly shows me pictures of his nephews and how he can’t wait to have children of his own. He did the dishes while I lay on the couch feeling miserable. That’s the kind of person I want, and that’s the kind of person I am not sure I deserve-but have waited my whole life to find.

He may not understand me on an intrinsic instinctive level, but we are going in the same direction, and our mutual respect and adoration for one another will help us make it through.

Meanwhile, I can’t help but feel betrayed a little. Should I even bother to work on a friendship with J? Will it be based on lies? Ironically, when he told me they had gotten back together, I questioned him and he told me that “she was all right with [our friendship].” Really? Truly? Had he asked her? Would it still be the same way or would it be as I had originally pictured it, an uncomfortable silence? I decided then, that my hope in him had been shattered—even for a basic friendship, I would hope he had the strength to be honest with me.

For now, nothing is solved and thankfully, so many questions have been answered in my heart. Am I going in the right direction? At long last, I can proceed without someone holding a secret grip on my heart …