Thoughts from a Weird, Strange, Funny Girl
Ah… the ex. What we could all say about our ex’s.. so many hateful, yet probably true,things. So easy too as well! And probably one of the most socially acceptable things to complain about. And yet, I haven’t. Mostly because I have never wanted to be “one of those people,” you know the type. The type of people who are just bitter and angry about their ex’s. I have just never wanted to be one of those people, publically, and yet instead all I have done instead of talking about it all I’ve done is continually shoved it down and repressed it. Oh I’ve complained about him a lot but… I’ve never really dealt with the issue. The two are not the same so this is my attempt. Like the other blog posts, I promise to learn from this, forgive myself for blame I lay apon all others as well as myself. I promise to continue to be honest with myself as I believe events to have been, at least from my own perspective. Anyway, let’s continue.
For all intents and purpose, the ex will either be referred to as the ex or as Mr. T simply because over the years even the sound of his name has become so repulsive to me to say. I don’t even like people who share the same name as him… and I have been lucky for it to not be much of a common name for people in my area.
The ex and I started “dating” a week after I turned fifteen. I say the word dating loosely as were people who met on a website and chatted a lot via instant messaging. We technically met briefly once at an airport where I had a connecting flight about a month in. I snuck out of the security gates to hang out with him for an hour and then get on my transfer flight. I remember liking him a lot at the time. If I am being completely 100% honest here, I didn’t find him attractive even then but, I did find him to be slightly more attractive than the photo he had sent to me, which I had thought at the time that he looked like one of those poster child’s with special needs for a GoodWill ad. It’s a secret I thought I would take to my grave for even then I felt so vain and shallow for having such thoughts. But I need to be completely honest with myself to help dissect everything and yes… even the ones that are so mean it leaves me with egg on my face. Its what I thought at the time and I always felt superficial over it so I always repressed it and buried it. Plus, I was no gorgeous model in my eyes either so who I was to judge. This guy found me attractive and I felt him to be smart and interesting so I just looked past the rest.
The next time we met in person wouldn’t be till I was over sixteen years old. We met with odd consistency after that. I lost my virginity with him over that Valentine’s Day and I remember being so angry with him that night. Not because of sex (we hadn’t done yet) but at the last minute he chose to go out and spend a couple hours with one of his best friends and not only reeked of cigarettes but tasted like them too. I knew that night he had lied to me and I went to bed angry at him, refusing to have sex. But early that morning I woke up not caring. I wanted my V-card over with because as a girl I heard that the first time to just get it over with because of how much it hurts. I had seen my window of time was closing for us so… I just did it. I wasn’t thrilled about it but it was over with and in my head, with someone who wasn’t a sleaze ball to for some reason was the most important part.
As these two teenagers continued to long distance “date” (still use that term loosely as one can for high schoolers) I still developed crushes on high school boys, particularly one named Ben who I wrote poems about and lied that a friend asked me to write for. What can I say, I was a dumb teenager. Nothing ever happened but apart of me wonders if it was only because Ben never found me attractive enough to pursue? Either way, now I find the idea of two teenagers being faithful during a long distance relationship laughable and incredibly naive. But technically I did. And I wanted others to think of me as a good person so the only person at the time who even knew about my Ben crush was my childhood friend L. We used to sit on my porch in the afternoon and talk about it. Once she asked, “well what about Mr. T ? What would you do if Ben did ask you out?”
“I don’t know,” I honestly said. “But I don’t really have to worry about it because it will probably never happen.”
And it didn’t. I just never found myself all that attractive. All I saw was fat and that I was really fat and that unless you were a guy from the internet, you were never going to find me attractive. That was just how it worked for fat girls in my mind. In retrospect it was easy in my mind to create this fantasy life where I had someone who completely adored me, had all these virtual friends and well, a virtual life! I didn’t go out, I didn’t drink, I didn’t party like my friend L. I sat on the computer teaching myself rudimentary coding and HTML, creating a world where I didn’t have to worry about self esteem and could just be my weird, silly self!
The years moved forward. I dropped out of high school and floated… for a long time. I was scared, lonely and depressed for quite a few years and just utterly lost on how to fix it. Sometimes he came down to visit me and sometimes I went to visit him with his family. I really wanted to like them, his family, and for as much as they were kind to me and made me feel welcome… I just didn’t. It was insecurities on my part I know now because I was so shy, a trait no one believes in me but yet… I always was. I always wanted to seek their approval. Why I don’t know. Maybe because they meant so much to him and because family meant so much to him, that I just put them on this petal stool and worshiped them. It sounds crazy but yes.. I did. I also have thought it was because I was just tolerated because I was Mr. T’s girlfriend. Also because I was fairly quiet and let them tease me. So I was tolerated but never felt like I was completely one of them.
Finally, I got my GED by myself and put myself through a term of college. I had a part time job but found a better, much better paying full time job with benefits in Seattle where he was from and could both live. We had been dating for five and a half years up to this point and I wanted it to go the next level. I wanted to live full time and not be in a long distance relationship any more. So we did. And it was okay for awhile. I did all the work, finding us a place and dragging him to go see places etc. But eventually we got our own place. We ran into money problems pretty early on because of him always some how coming up short on rent and him refusing to get joint bank accounts and letting me manage our budget. That should have been a red flag but I ignored it. We spent more and more time at his parents every weekend, spending our entire weekends off at their place. I quickly began to resent it… a lot. I wanted my own free time and free time alone together as a couple but it almost felt like his family was another mistress as weird as that is to say. If we weren’t with them or if I threw a fit, he would just whine about not being with them and making me feel like I was some horrible person. So I began to stay away. To which he was all too happy to do, ditch me at home on a weekend afternoon to late night by myself just to be with them. Every Saturday and every Sunday. And no I am not even exaggerating. It sucked. I don’t know if that alone was the beginning of the end but it was the first time I began to hate him for always putting me second to them. I had this deep seeded insecurity that even if we had gotten married I would always, always, always play second fiddle to them. If we had children they would be brainwashed into it or I would be the evil wife who kept the grandchild away.
It began to take its toll on my work and it’s performance. I didn’t want to lose my job but maybe subconsciously I did. I dunno. But right before my birthday and the winter holidays, I did. We got by for awhile. We still lived extravagantly and spent more money than what was in our budget… and I kept fatter and fatter the entire time. Over that Christmas, we let his younger brother and girlfriend sleep on our couch for two week’s as they were having their own drama within the family clan. It was mostly over the girlfriend which I now agree, was a manipulative bitch but, I digress. One night when neither me nor the trouble some girlfriend wanted to join the clan and the boys had left to do just that… we had a talk. And she told me two things I was not supposed to know. One, Mr. T’s dad had made a really condescending comment “careful, or you’ll get fat like Sarah.” And Two, not only did Mr. T lie to me about not being a smoker but, told his family to lie to my face if I ever suspected and asked….. I didn’t know where to begin. So I lashed out at what was easiest, his father. I swear the only thing I could see was red. I should have been mad at my ex who was sitting next to his dad at the time and silently said nothing to defend my honor but… I wasn’t. I lashed out at his dad and spent over an hour on the phone with him as he apologized. I don’t know if I believe him to this day. Apart of me wonders if he apologized because he realized how hurtful what he said was or because he knew it was the type of drama he knew his son would have to side with me on and be cut off from them. I don’t know but I feel the truthful answer is both. I never 100% believed his apology but I did take it.
After we had at least some what squashed the fat comment drama, I stayed up all night seething about the cigarettes. Not even anymore that he smoked but the lie about it. The big to do. So I snooped into the leather jacket my grandfather had inherited to Mr. T after my grandpa had died and there enough… were a packet of cigarettes. I paced all night long in our empty second bedroom. I wrote a long letter and was going to quietly pack my bags and go back to my mother’s but the girlfriend stopped me. She freaked out. Not over my safety (I’ve put this together over the years) or well being for our relationship but over her own hide. She was terrified Mr. T would kick her out and once again, she would be homeless. So I didn’t. I let her talk me into lying about how I found them and I didn’t leave. Why, I don’t know but a small part had actually to do with my cats and not wanting to leave them behind. I wasn’t worried about money because I knew my mom would let me stay with her if needed in an emergency. I just didn’t know how to transport the cat. In my mind I was not planning on coming back except for my things which of course didn’t need to be fed or looked after.
So I stayed. I tried to talk with him over it, after all the problem for me now really wasn’t about the smoking and all about the lie. I couldn’t, and didn’t trust him in the slightest. In truth, I wonder if I ever did again. I tried to, I honestly did but it was just one of those things I wasn’t able to move past. But I tried. I remember for some idiot reasoning afterwards to try having a baby with him. Nievely I thought a baby would fix everything even though I didn’t have a job. I started not getting my period. At first I thought this meant I had gotten pregnant and was overwhelming excited. But I kept showing up as not pregnant. Then his older sister became pregnant with her third child and I was jealous. I wanted nothing more than to tell his family, and feel beloved again on the totem pole but I didn’t, not until I was sure. I became bitter and worried as the year progressed. I kept not having my period and counting off the signs I should have been having if I had been pregnant. By May I was hoping for a kick that would never come. I was angry at his sister for preaching about all these “healthy” things she wouldn’t do because of the babies health but found so hypocritical that she still smoked. I remember wanting to shout it in her face what a hypocrite she was but kept everything to myself, including him. At least I don’t remember saying any of this to him. I dunno, maybe I did. All I do remember was how unhappy I was.
In September it finally came that we both gave up trying to pretend that we could afford the apartment. I had gone through three jobs very unhappily, Ross, a magazine sales woman and a sandwich artist at Subway. I hated all three. So we decided we were going to have to move in back with our parents. I wanted to stay with him and his parents but… according to him, his parents said no. That they didn’t have room for me nor his brothers girlfriend.
Here’s the thing, his brother loved his girlfriend so much that he was willing to live in a car with her on the streets because his parents would take him in, but not his girlfriend. And because of that, they caved in and let both the girlfriend and son move in. But not me. Never me. To this day that very act defines to me how little Mr. T cared. ‘Oh, I love you,’ he promised. Just not enough to move to Portland and my parents. That would mean we were both unemployed but together, and my mom would have taken us both. I can’t speak for him but after I moved back home, apart of me was subconsciously relieved for the space. I mean I wanted him to fight for me, for us, but he didn’t and I had to focus on me now.
In November I got a job at Subway again, close to my mom’s house and it was just as bad as the first. Also in November I had had a… I don’t know what you would call it with a mutual friend of ours that for years I had always found attractive but always kept a brotherly-sisterly relationship with. Except that one night it was neither and went way too far. It had started off extremely innocent, talking about our lives and how both of our lives sucked. We never really spoke again after that, we tried, but it was weird. I never told anyone that because of how embarrassed and ashamed I was. I was hoping it had been a fluke and only happened because of all my relationship stress. Because to be honest, I had grown more and more miserable with Mr. T. It was easy enough to pretend when he came to visit, like on Hallowen and Thanksgiving. It felt safe and normal but the majority of the time he was gone and I felt my life going further and further away from where Iwanted.
New Years came and went. An old classmate friend that I didn’t remember wanted to reconnect and meet up. So I said okay. He seemed fun, and I think apart of me wanted to be swept away and romanced. I wanted to feel special and attractive. I remember knowing what I was doing was wrong but consequences be damned! In retrospect I was totally a lamb to the slaughter and would never have stood a chance regardless. But I felt for the first time in my life, desireable, sexy and real pleasure for the first time in my life. Its not like sex was ever bad before, but it was not all the hype and sensation movies, books and magazines had lead me to believe, not by a long shot. I didn’t know how when you kissed someone you could literally feel the electricity spark through your lips all the way down to your doodah! I had never once had that with Mr.T no matter how much I had tried to make myself.
It was like a drug, I wanted to experience the sensation again and again. I immediately broke it off with T the next day, not telling him the whole truth, not wanting to completely hurt him (I did still love him after all, just not in that way.) It was like a huge wake up call for me. I was done moving backwards and that was all that relationship was. It was like I knew he would never fully choose me. I was his cake and he wanted to have it and eat it too. I remember inviting him over for Valentine’s day to see if we could make one more go of it but… sadly no. I just couldn’t. I remember telling him I needed more time to think but even then I think I must have subconsciously knew. I didn’t know what I wanted except not to be in a relationship anymore, which I did say. I wanted to be friends and spend some time getting to know me.
I remember feeling like a huge bitch about it. I didn’t want to give him false hope but in turn, I was selfish and wanted his friendship. I more than anything, desperately wanted that. Despite my new found independence, I was utterly lonely in the friendship department. Over the months I did my hardest to kept him out of the loop as far as my dating life but encouraged him to talk about his. I really wanted him to be happy and to find someone to be happy with. Over the months, I didn’t approve of the choices he made, going to strip clubs and then online dating this crazy married woman. I wish I could say I kept my mouth shut but… I didn’t lol. I never really could keep my mouth closed about his decisions in life around him ever. So you know, why not then? I basically drove him away into the other crazy woman’s arms and we didn’t speak again till the holidays of 2010. Like I had predicted, that relationship didn’t last and had just started dating a woman who I had considered to be my rival and nemesis all throughout our forum group days. I think I wished them luck, I don’t know, I don’t really care to look through my Facebook email history and find out. It was a long time ago. And I’m pretty sure that is right anyway.
I remember getting angry a year later, finding out that he had proposed to her. I remember being angry for two reasons. The most important one being I was trying to pay off a debt from our old apartment complex and him not helping with anything. He agreed to go along with any decision I made in the end and I promised to keep him informed on what happened. And here he was spending money on a ring and inevitably, a wedding! When he should be taking responsibility for a debt that had burdened on his last relationship! I didn’t want him to pay all of it, just half. And I was very angry and hurt over it. Who was this asshole to leave someone they claimed to love with such a debt? Sure there were moments where he had paid bills for me, like my share of our joint cell phone bill even after we broke up, but I never asked him too! The bill was in my name and I had always told him how hard I was on money and that if he needed to quit or get his own plan, I would understand. I even offered to pay half of the storage bill where for a year our stuff was pushed together. The point is I was always up front over money with him. I was always like, hey I can’t afford this, or this is how much I can pay, etc. I never once left him with a debt on his name that was brought to my attention and was like “too bad, so sad” about. For that, I will always hate him for doing that to me. Apart of me will always resent him for the pain he put me through. That no matter how much strife I may have caused him, it was never intentional and always did the best that I knew how to lessen the pain. This was just down and out “bitch I don’t care, fuck you.” He had a girlfriend or parents to mooch off of. It wasn’t important to him if his credit was okay because his spoilt as would always be covered.
Ugh, that is the angry bitterness of me talking but I digress. The truth is, I don’t want to be angry at him. I don’t want to resent him. I know the silent treatment he had given me, no matter how hard I have tried to talk to him is some mind fuck control game to him. It doesn’t matter that I want to be the bigger person, again always the bigger person, and be like “hey, I’m sorry. But I do and some fucked up part of me will always love you because you were my first love and I want to be that person who keeps in touch and be like these old life long friends. Sure we might not have families together but in my heart you were apart of my family and I always wanted to share that with you.” But to me, that is just who I am. I always want to reach out and talk…. and I don’t know why it has been so hard for me to accept it. He wants nothing to do with me. Ever again.
Which brings me to my second point which I kind of diverged from. The second reason I became so upset when I first found out the news he was getting married was, why her? Why now? Why so soon? We had dated what… seven or eight years, I forget the number, and kept getting promise after promise of a ring but nothing so much as a cracker jack box or high school ring. Its like what the fuck?! I mean it turned out to be a good thing for us in the end, not getting married, but still. Its the principal of the thing.
Sometimes I feel like the girl from Ruby Tueday. I mean who could hang a name on me when I change with every new day but.. are you gonna miss me? Its like, did I instill some secret panic that if he didn’t put a ring on it on this new girl of his, he would lose her like he lost me? A vain part of me likes to think that I could instill that power but… no. I don’t truly believe it.
Anyway, that is that relationship in a really long nut shell. This is me letting go of all of that. This is me letting go of the still foolish hope that one day we could be really good friends. This is me letting go of all the hurt and anger I feel you’ve caused me, especially with the debt and wall of silence that you use to control. I forgive you for all your faults and short comings and I am sorry for any additional pain I inflicted. I accept that he never really did love me and that I would always come second. I mean I think he thought he loved me and maybe he really wanted to but no… he didn’t. Not truly. Not unconditionally. Not without stipulations. Not true love. I know what that is and have experienced it and have it. I know what it is to look at your absolute ugliest and still to be found loveable.
I choose to forgive him of all of that and to stop being bitter over it. And maybe one day (although unlikely) he will too. Although he probably would (and will) say something like the image below. But in the end, it just goes to show you what kind of person he is…. selfish. And although I will always wish happiness and good things on him, he will never know what true love is. Because that in itself, being able to care about someone and wishing for their happiness, despite being bitter, angry, and disappointed over and over again in the past over how they’ve treated you, is what real love is. And I forgive you for not ever being able to comprehend what that means.