The End Begins

Yesterday I told Mr. Big that I wasn’t going to be able to do this for much longer. That soon I’d need more.

What followed was a conversation about how I pick the worst times and it’s not good for him right now. I told him he asks too much with no concern for anyone else. That I’ve always considered his needs and he needs to consider mine.

He asked if he should start searching for my replacement. I told him if he does that I’m gone right now. He backed down.

He said if I press it right now he’s gone. I backed down.

I know that when I tell him I need more, when I am definite, it’s over. I know I’m so stupid for not doing it sooner. I know that I should have done it months ago. And you know I wasn’t able to finish the job last night.

But I started. Give me strength. I’m worth so much more than this.

Holding Back

Rarely do two people fall for each other at exactly the same speed in exactly the same way. In fact, I would wager few of us have ever experienced such a thing. I know I never have. So what do you do when you fall faster or harder than the one you’re with? What do you hold back? How do you protect yourself? Or do you?

Mr. Big and I recently had an exchange that surprised me. I thought he understood me and knew more about me than he did. I thought he had more of my nuts and bolts figured out. Sometimes he seems so insightful it hurts, and sometimes I realize there is just so much more I need to show him. But no matter what is wrong or right between us, I trust him. I have for a long time now. It just is.

Another inalienable truth about me is that I have a hard time asking for help. For many years I ignorantly relied on those around me. I never worried about anything and let myself need those close to me. I never questioned that decision, it wasn’t even a conscious decision at all. I just did. And when my first husband and I split, I realized I didn’t know how to live alone. I’d never killed bugs, or mowed the grass, or been in the attic. I was paralyzed with fear. After that, all of my relationships suffered. I pulled everything inside of me and refused to lean on anyone. I married again but froze that man out in some ways. I was fiercely in-his-face independent in all things. I constantly reminded myself that I didn’t need him. I reminded him too. While that wasn’t the reason for the demise of our marriage, I know it didn’t help.

After that I was left to find a middle ground. Forced to admit that while I am a strong independent woman, I’m not a jack of all trades, and I’m not an island. I learned that I do need to lean on people, but I need to be selective about when and how and who. I learned there is a time for everything, even asking for help.

The end result is that I see trusting someone to help me as opening myself up to them somehow. It’s a way of giving a piece of myself over in exchange for whatever assistance they in turn provide. It’s admitting need and vulernability. So I am careful about who I ask to help me. And in the case of Mr. Big, I rarely allow him to do anything. Because I’m afraid to need him, and because I am already too vulnerable to him in too many other ways.

This weekend I knew I was going to need him. I hated it and yet I knew. He knew too. We have both watched this situation coming for some time now and we knew it was reaching a head. Yesterday I finally asked for his help. It was a big step for me, which we both understood. But we did not both understand why. In one offhand comment it became clear.

Mr. Big thought I held back because I don’t trust him. Amusingly enough, this couldn’t be further from the truth. I trust him more than I’ve trusted a man in years. I’ve let him have more in some ways than maybe I should have. But it’s true that I never asked for help. So he thought I didn’t trust him. And finally I had to explain. I don’t know if he’ll be here tomorrow. Because we have no commitment, I have no level of comfort. I have no way of knowing. And because I don’t know when he will disappear, I can’t afford to need him. I can’t let him have that part of me. It’s one part too many. He said he understood, but I wonder if he did. He also helped me with a minimum of fuss. I thank him repeatedly, but he downplays the situation. He tries to make me comfortable. But I still know what has taken place.

So I’m asking you, what do you do to hold back? How do you protect your heart when you know you are falling faster or harder? How do you try to keep from getting hurt?

He said yes

So I went away for an overnight with Mr. Big. He had to travel for the week for work and the location was relatively close. We knew we wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while so on an impulse, he asked if maybe I would come up to see him. At first I laughed it off. Actually, I told him that was too far to drive just to get laid. But then he said it wasn’t just about that… we could hang out, go out to dinner, and stay the night together. That was what sealed the deal. The overnight. You know what a sucker I am.

So I drove away to meet him on Sunday night and spent the night in a hotel with him. I know he was there for work. I know it wasn’t a fun trip. But for just a brief time, I felt important to him. It made me hope. And hope, as we all know, is the devil.

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It happens

Sometimes shit happens. Bad shit. And as much as you’d like to explain the details to everyone, you just can’t be bothered to rehash it like that. So let’s do it like this.

I overestimated Mr. Big. It was a clear mistake and I won’t do it again. It’s time for me to start exercising the open ended nature of this arrangement and date again. That’s the salient point here. Now all I need is someone to date.

All aboard!

I have been riding the hormone express, so I was sparing you all the gory details. I know this saddens some of you as the hormone express can be funny to watch. But it is not funny if you are indeed trapped on the ride. And I am highly mockable even when sane, so I just didn’t need the help.

At it’s most glorious moment this past weekend, I was determined I had to dump Mr. Big. I had just decided he was truly only interested in me if I had no clothing and was gearing myself up for the big conversation. Mostly because he had gone dark for a weekend and I hadn’t heard from him. Two seconds into an IM conversation with me, he knew something was horribly wrong. But I hadn’t quite gotten myself set to share my big revelation so I was dodging. (How can someone know in one line of text that there is something wrong with me anyway. HOW???) Anyhow, he pushed until I admitted I was unhappy and gave some reasons for the cause. (His silence, his silence, and oh….. his silence.) Rational thought was restored soon after you will be pleased to know. And we are still…. well…. whaever we ever are.

But at the peak of the crazy talking, I somehow managed to reveal that I am afraid to tell him things sometimes because I don’t want him to think I’m a pain in the ass, or hard to deal with, or difficult, or whatever words guys use to describe chicks who make them batty in a bad way. I was already flailing around and sobbing on the couch because, you know, the end was nigh. And then he said it. He said one of the sweetest things a man has ever said to me. It wasn’t that he loved me or would never leave me or that I’m beautiful or anything. No…. he told me I’m not difficult. I’m not hard to deal with. And further more, I’m too hard on myself. He doesn’t understand why I think those things about myself, but they’re unjustified. According to him.

Well gentle readers, I cried even harder. Because in that moment I realized something horrible about the past…. oh, let’s say 15 years. Ever major male figure in my life for the past 15 years has told me what a pain in the ass I am. From my closest friends, to both my husbands, to my father himself. I’m difficult. I’m controlling. I’m “no shrinking violet”. I’m hard to deal with. I’m the reason my marriages went so rotten. I’m a bitch. Over and over and over they all say these things. And repetition is wearing. Eventually it sinks in. I believe I’m a giant pain in the ass.

So, for the first time in 15 years, a man who is important to me said I’m not any of those things. I’m not difficult. I’m not hard to deal with. I’m not a pain in the ass. He doesn’t think badly of me. I can tell him how I feel or when I’m unhappy because he’s not going to think less of me. And what’s even better, he thinks I’m am unnecessarily harsh with myself.

No one has ever said that to me before. It stopped me dead in my tracks. And after the tears cleared, it made me smile again. I’m still smiling.

Random

It is just a random Saturday morning in my mind. Naturally, I’m inviting you all to visit for a bit.

• My cat threw up somewhere this morning. I heard her do it and have no idea where she was. I need to find that.
• Zombie guy and I still talk sometimes. He wants to be friends. Every time he IMs me, all I can think of is him naked. This is not good.
• I have been jonesing for a ginger mojito for at least a week now. If I don’t get one tonight, I’m quite possibly going to shrivel up and die.
• I need to lose weight, but am kind of unwilling to diet. I only need to lose a little. Think I can find a way to do this? (I know you’re going to tell me to exercise, I just know it.)
• I am still waffling about having Mr. Big move in with me. Part of me has some very compelling reasons why it is a terrible idea.
• I need to schedule a yearly check up for the cat. Why did that not occur to me when she was vomiting? That’s weird.
• For some reason I like to eat leftovers without reheating them. Of just about anything. I’m pretty sure this disgusts the majority of the population. Sorry about that.
• I should really buy the soundtrack to Rent. Why haven’t I done that before now?

See? My mind is a scary place to be.

But…

So last month Mr. Big and I had a spontaneous conversation about the possibility of a relationship someday. I got stunned and worked up, he backed away quickly, and then I was all filled with sadness and panic. I’m fun like that, right? Anyway, it brought up some of my flight instincts, stirred up some of my discontent, and also showed me that under all of that I kind of wanted this man anyway.

This month, the conversation has been slower. And more serious. This month we are having a leisurely and real chat about all of those things again. This month Mr. Big and I are discussing moving in together. Not in a nebulous maybe someday kind of way either. It would be in late summer.

We have discussed where his stuff would go, where some of mine would have to move to, how finances and chores would work, and how we would have to dissolve it if it went south. We’ve talked about when he would move. We’ve talked about what personal freedoms we’d expect to give up and which ones we’d expect to keep. We’ve talked about how it would affect our current relationship.

This is not hypothetical. This is not a vague thing that maybe someday we could do. This is something we are considering for late summer, depending on how we make it through the beginning of summer. This would mean an honest relationship for us, with exclusivity and closing off of all the open ends. We have both agreed to the terms. This is real.

I am startled. I am thrilled. I am scared. Actually, I am terrified. I am letting myself relax around him. I am letting him in. I am eyeing the exit door, which is still open. I am telling myself to go through it and not to all at once. I am quietly rejoicing even as I freak out. I am a walking happy contradiction. I am especially afraid of the happy part.

I am analyzing our future now. I am deciding where this could go. I am telling myself that is ridiculous as I have no hope of knowing the answer right now. I can only see by moving forward, by getting closer to the target. But each step I take is another chance to get hurt. And oh, I’ve been hurt so much already. And I wasn’t alone very long, and shouldn’t I be on my own for longer? But why? What good will that do? Why not take the step? Why not trust a little? Why not let someone in? I know why not. Because I could get hurt. Because there is danger. But every step we take in life runs those risks. There is always hurt. There is always danger. I have never stood still because of it before. And where did that get me? Look at my past… how well did that theory really work? But oh…. the possibilities. And I can’t be scared forever.

That’s the bottom line. I can’t be scared forever. Can I?

Unintentional Prophecy

Clearly all names in this blog have been changed to protect the guilty. Coming up with aliases for friends and dates and other assorted people is sometimes easy and sometimes not. And now I’m learning that it is sometimes prophetic.

When I named Mr.Big it was for reasons that had nothing to do with Carrie Bradshaw. It was actually something else all together that made me giggle even as I typed it that first time. I know that’s not what everyone expects, but it’s true. But recently I’m finding that Mr. Big’s alias may just be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

At night as I drift off to sleep, I tend to watch Sex and The City since it’s on cable now. Yes, I am just that girly. And the other night I was watching the episode where Carrie goes on her book tour to San Francisco and meets Mr. Big again for what she hopes will be a night of hot passion. Except he has read her book and is suddenly disturbed at how badly he’s hurt her. He never knew, he said.

And I stopped and thought about all the times Carrie went back to him. And all the times he unknowingly hurt her. And all the pain he caused her through the length of that TV series. And for about the 100th time that day, I started to cry.

I cried because I’ve been hurting for a while and I haven’t been acknowledging it. I cried because I thought I should leave my own Mr. Big but I also knew I lacked the courage to walk away right now. I cried because I knew I loved him and I didn’t know how he felt at all. I cried because I let it get this far.

And then I cried some more. I cried because at the end of that seven year TV series, in the very last episode, Carrie gets her Mr. Big. They end up together. And I cried because that gives me a twisted sense of prophetic hope. Then I cried because of how stupid that all is.

Mr. Big is truly my Mr. Big. I know that. What I don’t know is if we have the happy ending in store for us. And I can’t decide if I have the strength to wait and see. But right now I lack the strength to walk away.

What I didn’t know as I laid there crying is that things are on the verge of change for us. There is more to come in this story. But that is for another entry.

The L Word

Let me paint you a picture here. A boy and a girl have been dating for several months. They have also been doing the deed. The L word has been completely absent up until this point. One day, casually in conversation (about body image, if that’s relevant) the boy says “I absolutely love the way you look.” The girl blinks, but thinks nothing more. A few days later during a conversation about decidedly naughty things together, the boy says “I love our time together.” Th girl blinks again, and thoughts fly.

Few things are so loaded as the word “love” when you’re with a member of the opposite sex. It is often entirely avoided. It is occasionally used to test the waters. And admittedly sometimes it is thrown around because someone doesn’t understand the strength of it. In my not so humble experience, it is often regarded as a freaky mine field by the female mind.

Here is a little guide for the boys, in case you didn’t already know.

• You most definitely can use it too soon and freak us out. This usually occurs more often as we get older and more cautious. It is also directly related to how googly-eyed we are over you. However in the wrong situation, it can cause immediate fleeing.
• You can also most definitely use it too late. We will eventually get tired of you being deeply in like with us and we will also flee.
• We reserve the right to over-analyze your use of this word at all times. Be aware that any time it is dropped into conversation in any relation to us, we will probably kick into overdrive. Let me demonstrate. “I love the Red Sox” will not make us blink. “I love our time together” makes us wonder if you are trying to tell us something else. We will then poke this situation from every angle, ask for advice from multiple people, and generally rip our hair out until you find a way to rectify this problem.
• The only solution to the above dilemma that will actually stop the hair pulling is to tell us you love us.
• And finally, much like we want you to ask us out and we want you to pick up the check, we want you to say it first. Most of us have put ourselves out on the line more than once and gotten the curt “Thank you” or worse yet “That’s nice”. We realize you may have too. But in our little girly hearts, we still want you to take the leap. Chances are if you are stable (as in not psycho), we have been dating for a while, and things are still going well? We will answer you with something that isn’t going to make you secretly want to vomit.

As with any dating rules, there will be exceptions. But for the most part, the L word is to be used with great caution and the complete understanding that we will pick apart any conversation in which it appears. Please proceed with caution, ok?

I would love to see the male counterpart to this conversation.

**For the record, yes I am participating in the general crazy making at this time. I would like to imagine that I’ve been restrained about it. I would also like to imagine that the whole scenario is indicative of a deep and lasting feeling Mr. Big has for me. Unfortunately, I cannot allow myself to imagine that or the crazy making will deepen. So I am generally trying to ignore it. Mostly. Sort of.

Walk away

Due to maintenance issues, my apartment became very uncomfortable for me tonight. Mr. Big and I were discussing the situation and he kept apolgizing to me. To which I kept telling him this was not his fault. Then finally he told me he knew, but he just felt like I would be more comfortable at his place.

Me: I didn’t ask. I know better.
Him: that’s why I’m sorry.

I had to walk away.