Facebook Redux

So first we talked about why Facebook is the devil. Then we had the story about that Facebook bitch which further illustrated the point. And now I have yet more proof… the “Relationship Status” profile information.

How could one little field of stock profile information cause so much havok? Well let me tell you how.

When LC and I decided to get back together, I was perhaps a bit more enthusiastic than he was at the very beginning. And I remembered that the dreaded “Relationship Status” field on Facebook had been an issue for us in the past. Mostly because I wouldn’t change mine right away. So when we made our decision, I immediately went in and said I was in a relationship with him. Then I waited for him to confirm. And I waited…. and I waited…. and I waited. Well, I waited half a day at least. (What? I’m not a patient woman.)

Finally I just asked him if he’d checked his email. He said he’d seen it but he needed to talk to someone before he switched it over. Fair enough. Later that night he said his Facebook was just work friends anyway and he was just thinking he would keep relationship stuff off of there. Well, dear friends, I balked. I asked if he wasn’t planning on telling them about us. He said he’d already told a few people. I asked what the problem was then. He grudgingly said he guessed there was none. But the topic was dropped without satisfaction on either side.

A few days later, we talked more calmly. He felt the request was invasive and presumptive because it had been sent without warning or question.  I explained I was only attempting to right past wrongs. He said he could understand but that he wanted to wait a few weeks before declaring things there. That he cared what his friends thought and our story was already so full of twists and turns. He just wanted some time to be sure neither one of us was going to wake up one morning and run for the hills. I said I could understand and would cancel the request. And he could send it when he was ready.

And so time passed. First one week. Then two weeks. Then three weeks. He said he’d told everyone at work. So I was left wondering if he’d perhaps never told that girl he had been casually dating? Was he hiding me from her? That seemed unlikely as he would not have had any free time in which to see her really. So my mind leapt to the next horrifying but logical place. Maybe he really was going to wake up one morning and decide he didn’t want me. Why else?

But I stayed silent, as I had promised. Although in my mind, it became a larger and larger point of concern.

Then, one morning just this week, he changed it and I had the confirmation email. And even though we were spending every night together, and even though he’s been with me and so supportive through some difficult things lately… even though all of that is true, this one email about a relationship status setting on Facebook made me grin from ear to ear. Of course, I accepted immediately.

It really is the stupidest things which make a difference to us in the end. Or cause trouble.

Time heals?

All of this rain makes me pensive. For some reason it always has. This morning I’m wondering if there’s really a problem at all.

We’ve been spending almost every night together. I fall asleep touching him. I wake up and roll into his arms. We’ve done big things… shopping trips, festivals, wine tastings. And we’ve done little things… hikes, movies in, cooking dinner. He continues to invite me over. He assumes I will stay the night. He tells me he wants me there because he knows I need to hear it now. He reaches for me as we watch TV in the evening and nestles my head against his chest then leans over to kiss my forehead.

And still I remember the way things used to be. When we were out in the sunshine and he would embrace me and kiss me passionately, not caring who saw. When he would tell me he loved me all the time. When we would go places and people could just see we were in love. When he would stand on every mountain both virtual and real and shout out that we were together.

Except then there was always something in the way. Always someone else. Always a choice to be made. These days there are no more decisions… just him and me. And I can’t help but notice that he barely touches me in public. That he rarely says I love you first. That he doesn’t kiss me like he used to. That he gets impatient when I want to talk about it.

In some ways we are closer than we’ve ever been. In other ways I feel isolated. And I think, maybe it’s not fair to think after a few short weeks that it will all just be like it used to. And then I think maybe he liked me better when he thought he couldn’t have me. I worry that maybe I am a story that he just wants to see the ending of. Then I think I shouldn’t post this here because maybe, he might see it. But now I think maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore.

We are planning vacations together. We are spending most evenings and nights together. In some ways, we have more of each other than we’ve ever had. And in some ways I still feel cut off and I still long for the way he used to love me.

This morning I just needed to tell someone, and so I tell you. I don’t want my neediness to drive him off. I don’t want to ruin our chance of healing. I try not to mention this to him too much. I’m not running away from him nor do I want to. I just want that love that I remember to come back to me. And I’m hoping all it needs is time.

Unsaid

Sometimes what is left unsaid is as powerful if not more so than the words we do share. And while I hate when others do this, here it is. There is a lot I’m leaving unsaid right now. Before I face a barrage of opinions and feedback and other people’s thoughts, I need to make sure I’m clear on my own. I need the dust to settle. I need to breathe.

So I may not be saying a lot right now. But I’m here. And I’m living. And with each passing day the dust is settling a bit more and my breaths come clearer. When this all lifts for sure, I’ll have a lot to say. Don’t you worry.

But for now, I’m here. I’m quiet, but I’m here. Don’t give up on me.

Bugging me - Again

Ask and ye shall receive… the second story of the attack of the giant beetles inside my apartment.

A week or two after the first incident, I had finally stopped looking for beetles around every corner. I decided that the giant life threatening beetle referenced in my last post was merely a coincidence. A one time deal. After all, my apartment is not especially prone to bugs. So my blood pressure had returned to normal and I could once again sleep at night without excessive scratching. Of course, this is where the story will go horribly wrong for me.

I was once again sitting on the couch and enjoying a quiet night in. Early in the evening, I heard some rattling of the blinds on the blacony door. Nothing serious, just sounds like they were shifting slightly. It was hot outside and the AC was on, so I decided that must be the culprit. A tiny voice in the back of my head warned me that this was a new noise and having the AC on was not a new thing. But I ignored it. No need to be paranoid, I told myself.

An hour or so later, the beetle found his way to the wall above my TV. That’s right, the exact same kind of big nasty beetle. I did not scream, although I admit I did dance and scratch a bit. But I also sighed and went in search of something I could use to reach and kill the nasty thing. After some careful rooting around, I spotted my black ballet flats. Triumphantly, I snatched up my new weapon and turned back to the wall to do the dirty dead.

But the beetle was gone.

One frantic search later, I located it on the vaulted ceiling of my apartment. Like 18′ up in the air. I waved the black ballet flat at the beetle in a menacing fashion but he seemed unimpressed. He didn’t move. We were at an impasse.

The real problem here was that I needed to go to bed. But now my blood pressure was elevated and there was a beetle on the loose. Clearly sleep was no longer an option until the beetle was dead. I mean, he could fly into the bedroom and land on me in my sleep! Seriously!

The beetle and I were clearly at a standoff, so I did the only thing I could really do at the point. I upped the ante. I threw my shoe at the ceiling. That’s right. I threw my shoe at the ceiling. Hit it too. But alas, I missed the beetle. He remained uninterested in me or my airborne black ballet flats. But now that I knew I could hit these high ceilings, I kept trying. I got close to the darn thing too, but never quite hit him.

The beetle tired of my game and took to the air, only to land on another spot too high to reach. Lather rinse repeat… my shoes flew once more. Then it happened. On one trip to retrieve my ballet flats, the beetle moved and I lost him. I stood in the kitchen in a panic brandishing my weapons of choice and deperately trying to locate the offending insect. I finally found him and he’d made a fatal mistake. He was within reach.

I approached the wall carefully, like a hunter stalking it’s obviously deadly prey. The beetle sat still. I drew my arm back slowly all while trying to stay as calm and still as possible. I locked eyes with the dirty giant beetle. And then I smacked him!

He spiraled off of the wall like a crashing airplane and I jumped back and screamed. And danced. And itched. But I had lost him. I knew it wasn’t a direct hit but I also knew he was wounded at the very least. Still I could not locate the beetle. I spent the next 15 minutes or so convincing myself that he had to be dead or dying somewhere. I finally went to bed.

And finally, I knew I had to ask for help. A few days later, when I had finally stopped skulking into the living room like a nervous deer, I had a friend come over to get rid of the bug. Yes, it’s true. I, Jane Wonder, called someone to dispose of a dead bug. And it was indeed dead… died right where it landed that night after I smacked it. And now it is gone.

Hopefully I won’t ever see another one of those damn things again.

Bugging Me

Let me paint you a picture of the totally glamorous life of a one date wonder on her own. Actually, let me not paint it because that would be gross. Because the picture is of a giant beetle in my apartment.

The first time it happened (oh yes, it’s like that) I was sitting on the couch minding my own business watching TV and surfing the internet on my laptop. I had a drink on the coffee table, I was relaxed, and all was right with the world. Apparently my mistake was blinking. I blinked, and then it happened.  There was a giant beetle right in the middle of my laptop screen. Seriously. A beetle.

I did what any normal single gal would do when presented with the situation. I screamed and shoved the laptop off my lap. It hit my drink which spilled all over the coffee table, snapped shut, and fell to the ground. I had already jumped out of my seat and was doing the crazy itchy screamy bug dance over by the front door. And then I had to decide… what was more pressing? Saving my coffee table from water stains or locating and eradicating the giant life threatening beetle now trapped inside my laptop?

The water stains won. I mopped them up and then kicked the laptop into the middle of the room. Armed with a wad of paper towels the size of my head, I jerked the machine open and found…… nothing. Cue the itchy screamy bug dance and a frantic search for the beetle. I found him on the couch in the end, which caused more dancing and a final kill. Unable to deal with the buggy corpse, I took the entire wad and threw it out then went to bed with visions of beetle bugs dancing in my head.

The next morning I was puttering around the place and threw something out in the kitchen trash. My hand brushed something crunchy on the outside of the can so I picked it off without thinking anything of it. A split second later my caffeine deprived brain registered the fact that this crispy bit may actually be a giant crunchy dead beetle and I dropped it. You know what comes next. That’s right, I did the dance. Upon confirming the fact that there was now a beetle corpse on my kitchen floor, there was not a hot enough shower in all the land to calm me down. I don’t know how I finally got the courage to grab a paper towel and dispose of the body, but somehow I did. There may or may not have been screaming involved.

Don’t even get me started on the second time. I mean, unless you really want to laugh at me some more.

And in the afternoon

He asked me not to run from him anymore. He asked me to talk things over, said we could work it out. Said he wanted me to stay. He was supposed to help me stay.

Until this afternoon when he ended it.  He said I wanted more than he had to offer. And in the end, that’s probably true.

And so a year and a half almost to the day from when we met, we are over. I didn’t see that coming in the light of this morning. Didn’t see it coming at all.

It does not bother me to say, “This isn’t love…”
Cause if you don’t want to talk about it
Then, it isn’t love
And I guess I’m gonna have to live with that
But I’m sure there’s something in a shade of gray
Or something in between,
And I can always change my name, if that’s what you mean

- “Anna Begins” by Counting Crows

In the light of morning

In the light of morning, I feel like I should explain a few things. Please don’t take this to mean I am any happier or more at peace. I’m not. In fact, I feel physically ill. Still, this bears saying.

I’ve known Big for a year and a half. We have been together in various forms for that long. During that time, I’ve often been less than happy with how things were. I have rarely told him so. Early on in our past, I told him I wouldn’t try to change him. I pledged to take everything he said at face value and only try to regulate my own reactions and actions. So, for instance, last summer and fall when I so deperately wanted more from him, I never said so. Instead I worked very hard to convince myself that every sign he may have wanted more was a trick of my imagination. I told myself over and over that he’d never want me. I wrote it all here. But I never asked him, talked to him, or gave him the benefit of the doubt. Not once.

What you see, what you read, what you know… it comes from where I am.  For better or for worse, that’s the nature of this kind of writing. You know what I choose to show you. And most of what I show you is internal. So what you know of Big, it’s colored by my issues, our miscommunications, and everything I’ve bottled up for so long.

I’m trying to be better.

Last night I told Big things have to change if we’re going to make it. What I didn’t tell you is that he agreed. I said we have to spend more time together. He agreed. I said I can’t do things the way we have been and we won’t make it without that change. He said everything will be okay.

What you see here is my fundamental belief that nothing will ever truly be okay. But that’s not so much about Big as it is about me. I know it, but maybe you don’t. So I figured it bears saying out loud.  Many of you have developed very unflattering images of what Big is. But those are built on my own hurt. And that hurt hasn’t always been his fault. I am to blame too. For not speaking up when I should have. For not telling him what I need. For convincing myself he will never care enough. For telling myself it’ll never work. For doing those things instead of opening up and letting him in. I am as much to blame, if not more.

Yes, I feel like everything has been on his terms since I met him. Yes, I am resentful. No, I have never been clear about that with him. So in some ways, it’s not fair for me to get angry since I never told him it was a problem in the first place. (And yes, in some ways he simply should have known better.) My point is that he’s not a villain. He’s not perfect, but he’s also not a complete ass.

The move to a new apartment was not about me. Our time was a perk but it wasn’t the reason. And that was at my request. So the move back, it shouldn’t be about me either. He hated the apartment, hands down. It wasn’t aimed at me.

And yet, we all know it hit me. We all know how I feel. And yes, Big knows too. Today I am going to try to open up more with him. I’m going to try to tell him why I’m hurting. I am going to try to get concrete solutions to these issues. I’m going to ask for the change I need. And I’m terrified, but I’m going to do my best here. I don’t know what will happen. As always, I assume the worst. So what I really need is for you to hope for the best. Because I’m a little too broken to manage that right now.

Thanks for understanding.

Reverse

That’ll teach me to believe. He moved back. No really, you read it right. He. Moved. Back.

I told him I can’t do things the way we were before.  We need to spend more time together, and if that means he always has to be over here, so be it. It’s a dealbreaker and he’s aware. He says it’ll be ok. He says he’ll reassure me, and comfort me, and spend more time with me.

Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go cry. I knew this would happen, but that doesn’t make it any easier. And I don’t have anything to comfort me right now. And I’m scared.

Moving on up

I have been waiting for this day for over two weeks now. I carefully said nothing here. The news was so good, so anticipated, that I was afraid of it. I was afraid the moment I typed these words, the entire thing would fall through. I was afraid that by making it real here, I would jinx it. I didn’t want to have to answer questions or shed public tears if it fell through. I didn’t want to get too excited and then get hurt. I was just scared.

But today it happened. I helped Big move into a new apartment all his own. I am inside it now typing this entry. I will be spending the night tonight. We have been together since 10:30 this morning and will be together still at 10:30 tomorrow morning. For the first time in the year and a half that I’ve known him, we are in his apartment together. We will be having regular overnights together. We are doing real things together. We are together.

You can see why I waited. You can see why this was so huge. This is a new phase in what we are to each other and where we are going together. This is a new chapter for us. This has been a long time coming and we’ve been working towards it for close to a month now. But I waited until I was sure to say it here.

I’m sure. I’m sitting in Big’s living room and I’m sure. And I’m happy.

By any other name

When we were younger, we girls would proudly announce that we had a boyfriend. Chances are everyone already knew, but we’d throw the term around with abandon. Our friends would giggle and our fathers would wince every time we mentioned our boyfriend. But it was never a problem, because that’s what he was.

However, as we get older, it seems maybe it’s not such a cut and dried deal anymore. Husband is a fine thing to trot out in polite conversation, but the older we get, the odder boyfriend feels. It feels silly and juvenile. And yet, we struggle because there is no other word for us.

I tend to not use a label. I tend to just use my current flame’s name and stare people down. For example,  I would say “Ed* and I are going away for the weekend.” Then just stare. You would see them piecing together that statement and parsing out the meaning. Most of the time if you stare meaningfully enough, the next logical thing will not happen. But sometimes it does. If the person you’re talking to is not quite fast enough or perhaps has not had enough caffeine, it can happen. “Oh? Who’s Ed?”

And there you have it. Who is Ed? Is he your current, or the guy you’re dating, or some dude, or your boyfriend, or muffin, or the homeless guy you gave a dollar to this morning? How do you explain Ed?

As a woman in my 30s, I have a hard time uttering the word boyfriend.  It still reeks of high school and innocence and something I’m just not anymore. Even more horrifying, I have found myself, as a woman in my 30s, looking a man in the eye and having to say “So does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” It just seems like at our age there should be a more dignified term for this. Or… well, something.

I have noticed that out in the great world wide web, I’m not the only person struggling with this. So any suggestions are welcome. What do you think we should be calling those with whom we are in a relationship now that we are no longer 21?

*There is no Ed. This was just the random name I managed to pull from a hat this morning. Sorry to disappoint.