~Friday, March 22, 2013

He's Not That Into You

I don't think I ever got dating right. I don't think I ever got rid of my bad habits; I think I just got really, really lucky with Abraham.

I mean, we talked for months, so that was good. Then we made out behind a bar and didn't see each other for weeks and weeks (he was nervous, he said.) That's... less good. According to the Rules, He Wasn't That Into Me. And then I got shitfaced, went home with him, threw up on everything he owned and then slept with him. I don't think there a self-help book that addresses what I did there. And then I hung around while it took him four months to become comfortable with the relationship. I never learned my lesson.

"Yes, you did!" exclaimed Paige over a bottle (or three) of wine. "You always dated people that needed you, whether financially or socially." Both Christopher and S were unemployed most of our relationships. Neither of them had friendships independent of the relationship. "Abraham didn't need you. He already had his needs taken care of. That is breaking your pattern!"

So at least I have that. I did know that Abraham was different. While people think it should be all roses and best behavior in the beginning, it wasn't that way for me. Abraham needed time. The difference was that he didn't treat me badly during that period. He never made me feel undesired; he never made me feel second place. I should be crying, I thought more than once. This should bother me, but it does not, and I can't explain why. Maybe this is maturity.

It just turned out he's still That Into Me.


According to my blog, I read this book in 2006. I still stand by that review (although I have no idea who Ryan is). This book taught me that you are not the exception; you are the rule.

I imagine everybody has read this book by now. But just in case you were in a relationship in 2006 and are no longer in one, I have a free copy for you. Leave a comment and I'll use a random number generator to select the winner.

~Monday, March 11, 2013

Crash Into Me

The first time I met Abraham was in 1999. I had just graduated from high school and was working that summer as a lifeguard at a neighborhood pool. Abraham was a year out of college and living in the Florida panhandle. He drove his rickety 1988 Plymouth Horizon 270 miles North to attend the same concert as me. We were separated by 130,000 people.

The second, third, fourth and fifth times I met Abraham were at another handful of concerts of a local one-hit wonder. By that time we had both moved to the City. He was our favorite performer. We were separated by several hundred people.

The sixth time I met Abraham was in the summer of 2011. We were playing in the same kickball tournament, although our teams never played against each other. We we were separated by 100 people.

The seventh time I met Abraham was at a house-warming party of mutual friends. This time we were separated by 20 people.

Maybe that's how fate works. It starts with 130,000 people and narrows the circle of people until there are 2,000 and then 300 and then 90 and then 20 and then he's crashing into you during a kickball game.

Whenever our favorite artist is back in town—which isn't a frequent as he once was—we see him. At the last show he reunited with his original band on stage. I went crazy. I turned around breathlessly and looked at Abraham.

"Do you believe in fate?"

He shrugged.

"Because in this moment, I do."

Everything was so perfect and magical in that one moment. This band I had been seeing since 1998 was back together and on stage 14 years later. The people surrounding me had changed; the number had shrank until I got it right. I was now cheering with Abraham and his friends.

When was the earliest moment in time you and your significant other could be placed together?

~Thursday, March 07, 2013

Out of the Woods

Abraham's bedroom smells like wood.

I guess I should stop calling it Abraham's bedroom. Next month it will be my bedroom as well.

Truth is, I signed that lease to buy me 6 more months in my apartment, and I haven't spent a single night there. I've been at Abraham's house (I mean, our house). Katielookingforward referred to my lease as an insurance policy. "You can 'waste' money on rent for an apartment that you don't use, because that kind of waste I consider insurance," she commented. "I think it would truly be wasting your money for you to move in now, have something possibly not work and then have to find a new place to live!"

We made the decision to live together and then extended it by six months. It cost me roughly $7,000. It was quite an expensive insurance policy, but I don't regret a penny of it. Because I know in my heart that we are ready. I could have moved in six months ago, but I would have had reservations then. I don't have reservations now.

The delivery men came last weekend with our new bedroom furniture. The new furniture is made out of solid cherry instead of that particle-board crap Abraham used to have, which is why the room smells woodsy. I was able to buy the furniture since Abraham helped me with the ski vacation.

Abraham inhaled. "I like the smell," he admitted.

I went back to my apartment, which now feels uninhabited and ghostly. The halogen lights in the kitchen burned out. The garbage disposal stopped working from disuse. I wrote a letter for the work orders. Then I went to my old dresser and stuffed my clothing into suitcases to bring to Abraham's house. My house.

I crossed my bedroom to the nightstand and began emptying it. This nightstand will be Abraham's when I move. In the bottom drawer were my self-help books: He's Just Not That Into You, Be Honest--You're Not That Into Him Either, Quirkyalone, Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man and others. And others. The list goes embarrassingly on, and the titles only get worse. I didn't get rid of these books when S moved in. I must have known in the back of my mind that he wasn't the one.

But I'm ready to get rid of them now. It would be disrespectful to bring them with me. They've helped me over the years, and I'd like to pass them on. Every week, I'll post about one book and select a random commenter to win the book. I'll inscribe it if you want. And if no one is interested in the book, it will be donated to Better World Books for socially conscious book buying.

I rushed out of my apartment as quickly as I came. It's not home anymore.

~Friday, March 01, 2013

Black Diamond

The scene was the same: when a coworker asked how my ski trip went, she'd ask while staring at my bare left hand. Every time.

"It was the best vacation I've ever had," I'd respond, trying to ignore the glances.

"So he didn't propose on top of the mountain?" one asked.

"I was so sure it would happen," another consoled.

"The ex-boyfriends come out of the woodwork because they know you're about to be engaged," my boss advised.


I knew it wouldn't happen on this trip. We were surrounded by 20 of Abraham's closest friends. Considering his private nature, it wasn't the right environment for him. I said as much.

"My coworkers think you're going to propose this trip, but I told them they were wrong."

We were sitting in our usual bar with our usual plate of hot wings the night before we left town. Abraham slunk in his chair. Really slunk. Like just-received-bad-news slunk.

It dawned on me at this moment that I don't need to tell him everything.

But I kept talking anyway.

"I told them they were wrong. We're going to be with a whole mess of people. And you're going skiing and I'm not, so it's not like we're going to be on top of a mountain together or anything. Plus the pressure is kind of off considering my conversion timeline."

That was another point. I'd been visiting several synagogues both in person and online, searching for a conversion class that felt right to me. The class I decided upon is one neither affiliated with a temple nor a sect, so we can be educated first without being guided by one temple's mission. Abraham liked this approach too. But the class doesn't start until August, and it runs 5 months, which means I won't convert until next January, which means the wedding will be after that.

Abraham didn't say anything. What if I ruined the proposal? I decided to not mention it again before any future vacations.


We had a great time on the trip. It was one of my favorite vacations. In the end, I paid for my flights and Abraham paid for my lodging and food. We split the activities pretty evenly.

Abraham took me dog sledding, which was something I've always wanted to do, but I never put much thought into it because I didn't know it was something I could actually do. I cried happy tears as the first sled of huskies howled and ran into the woods. I could barely listen to the instructor. I kneeled in the snow and played with the replacement Femme Fatales as mine was on vacation with my father. Abraham said it was his favorite moment of the trip, watching me be that happy.

I trust Abraham. He will propose when he thinks the time is right. To give him a specific timeline would be to not trust his judgment. And I trust his judgement wholly and completely.

He chose me after all.


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