Fantasy versus Reality

RUBY: How many girls get to date their fantasy?

FELICITY: Yeah, but the fantasy is beautiful and

shallow. The actual relationship is a whole

different thing.

~Felicity

I'm confused.

What do you do when you get everything you thought you wanted, and yet it's not what you want?

Christopher was my dream guy. When we dated in 2006, I obsessed over every detail. I admired him. I adored him. He was incredibly handsome, magical in bed, intelligent, fit and lived in this amazing apartment in Midtown. He had it together. I thought if he would just commit, if he would just say that I was the person he wanted, then I would just be the happiest and luckiest girl alive.

And then he found me. When I was so low from my relationship with S that I didn't even feel human anymore, much less a woman, he found me and he saw all the things in me that I thought S had destroyed. That maybe even I had destroyed. He gave me back myself.

It was beautiful and shallow.

But now the little things are starting to add up and feel like big things to me. Like he's never, ever, in the history of the world, driven me on a date. I drive 100% of the time. Oh, he has a driver's license and a car, but he refuses to drive so if we ever go out, it's up to me. This is compounded by my relationship with S, who had neither a license nor a car, so it's been a minimum of three years since I have been driven on a date. I really wanted to put "Be driven on a date" on my 30 things list, but M-Joy told me I needed to raise my standards and then I got embarrassed of my need to be driven around town, so I let it go.

Also on that list, I've paid. I've paid more than I should have paid. He was unemployed and I wanted to do things, so it only seemed right that I paid. And I'm not really bitching about that. I'm bitching that now he is employed, he has bought me two meals, one of which was my birthday dinner, and he went out for drinks afterwards with my friends, and my friends paid for my birthday drinks. He had placed three calls me to me, questioning the price of the bill at all three places. "Why was the bill this much? what did we order? How much did I tip? Is that amount correct?" It feels like such a guilt trip. He called me at work about the birthday drinks. He told me my friends lied and didn't pay for my drink, and I flat-out told him he was wrong. I saw his bill; he only paid for himself. Yet I'm getting another call and guilt trip over money he spent on himself. He didn't realize that because the party was of 10 people, an 18% gratuity was added, and then because he was drunk, he added an additional 20% tip. He asked if he could call the restaurant and get that money back.

He wanted me to drive on my birthday. I refused. So he said he would rent a cab because he was planning on drinking as much as I was drinking on my birthday. Then he asked to split the cab. I said it was his decision to drink and if he couldn't get me to my birthday gathering, then I would call M-Joy, who would gladly pick me up, and I would go with her. He called me back and said we could take the bus. So we did.

And when we go out, it feels like we only go to the places he wants to go. I don't know how fair that statement is, and I know a lot of couples feel that way, but I feel like adding it to the list right now.

He hasn't met my parents. He hasn't told me he loves me. He is against marriage. Six weeks shy of our one-year anniversary, I feel alone. I feel single if I were being truly honest. We only see each other one night a week. If I were having a bad day, he isn't the kind of person to come over and hang with me and bring a pizza because he refuses to drive.

I switched my thyroid meds in the beginning of April and I've been having a really difficult time with it. I feel noticeably off. I sleep all the time and I'm weepy. I took a day off of work this week to go to the doctor and have a blood test to see if I'm hypo like I feel that I am. I told Christopher this. He responded, "My mother and brother have hypothyroidism, so I should get that checked. I probably have it too." I held the phone away from my face and thought, Did we just really make this all about you?

So that's it. That's my entire list of complaints about him. We don't fight; we actually get along very well. He doesn't call me names or throws things. He doesn't do drugs. He is a good person. I just don't feel like my emotional needs are being met. I feel single, but unable to date.

Which makes me think of 5k guy. He was the guy I was trying to impress when I drunkenly declared I was going to run a 5k with 5 weeks notice. He sent me an e-mail the next morning saying he would see me there. I blew him off. I went to the 5k, but still felt messed up from the thyroid meds and extremely unmotivated, so I purposely didn't meet up with him and walked half the race before quitting and going to get a smoothie. That's right, I am a quitter. (And then I watched The Biggest Loser this week where a 400-lb man with a SONY WALKMAN did a 5k in 50-something minutes and I felt shame.THE SHAME.)

5k guy sends me another e-mail after the race and told me he missed me. I sent a lame response, but gave just enough detail to indicate I was actually there. That was that, I thought.

Then I post my 30 before 30 list on my Facebook page at the request from my friends at birthday gathering. M-Joy read the list out loud and my friends cheered and clapped with every item like it was pure gold. When M-Joy hollered "Take a dance class" over the table, Harvey shouted, "We should do a belly-dancing class! No! NO! A POLE-DANCING CLASS!" It was momentous. Everyone in my life has met my list with an overwhelmingly response (My step-mother wants to shoot a gun with me, and we planned the swimming with the dolphins trip in August.) Everyone at my birthday wanted to go to the mountains for the rip-line adventure (Thanks for the tip!). They are pumped about rafting the Oconee river. Christopher, in hindsight, was silent.

So I post my 30 before 30 on my Facebook and 5k guy sees it. He leaves a comment with all the items he can help me with. Like change a tire, and doing the 5k thing right. He wants in on the rafting. I've met this guy once then blew him off, and yet he wants to help me meet my goals. Christopher did not even mention it.

5k guy isn't the messiah. He isn't the answer to my boy problems. But I bet he would drive me on a date. But I don't know anything about this guy: he could be a pot smoker who likes to refer to women as bitches. He could be against marriage too. Judging by his Facebook, he's way more active than I am. I don't really care for his dog's breed (wiry-coat dogs are just not fun to pet like my lovely, fluffy husky).

I've always felt more like a Charlotte (Pride and Prejudice reference, not Sex and the City). I always felt comfort in being safe. As evidenced from my list, I'm not much of a risk taker.

I don't know. I'm just thinking. Actual relationships are whole different things.

The final countdown

On the twenty-fourth day of April in the year of our Lord 2011, I will be turning 30. 3-0. A new decade that is supposed to be filled with responsibility and knowing thyself. As the anonymous commenters love to note, I am neither of those things.

I have spent the last week compiling my list of 30 things I want to do before I turn 30:

30. Paint a piece of pottery
29. Not kill a house plant
28. Knit a sweater
27. Go an entire day of work without surfing the Internet
26. Bet on a winning horse
25. Take a dance class
24. Shoot a gun
23. Send a message in a bottle
22. Stop biting my nails
21. Visit Texas
20. Learn to change a tire
19. Stop therapy
18. Make 1,000 paper cranes
17. Have a professional picture taken of me and my dog
16. Make an indulgent purchase
15. Run a 5k (for real)
14. Go down a zip line
13. Put 10% of paycheck into savings
12. Swim with dolphins
11. Learn to spin yarn
10. Try a new cocktail every month
9. Find a fitness activity I enjoy (obviously not running)
8. Raft down the Oconee river
7. Drop 2 pants sizes
6. Perform a favor for a stanger
5. Make spaghetti sauce from scratch
4. Do a successful cartwheel
3. Buy a new dress
2. Attend a craft show and sell a piece of knitting
1. Meet Kristin

Some of these will make me a better/more interesting person. Some I've always wanted to do. Some I stole off of the Internet. All of them, I believe, are realistically obtainable—even that damn 5k attempt #2. Can you help me with any of these? Do you have a list of your own?

In case you were curious

In case you were curious, ex's most recent arrest was for domestic disturbance. Apparently Convict Rehab went back into the apartment for some reason—maybe to fight, maybe to pick up more stuff, who knows—and he got so angry he threw a computer out of a window. This raises two questions with me:

• How in the world did he get possession of a computer?
• Was the window open or closed?

I'm guessing the window was closed to warrant the arrest. I'm also guessing that the computer was hers.

Anyway, it was the first of the month and rent was due, and he got kicked out of the apartment complex for his recent activity. Once again, he left the apartment furnished and unlocked so his parents can once again reclaim their belongings. His father showed up to collect his things and left S there with his suitcase of clothes.

S was homeless for about six days. He spent one at the hospital for some made up medical reason. The doctors told him that he isn't going to live much longer if he keeps going the way he is. I think he may have stayed with a friend another night.

He called his father to help him find another rehab to attend. He told everyone that he was going to detox at the place he quit last time, but it was another lie. His father refused to help him. His step-father told him not to call his mother anymore. He missed the birth of his sister's second child.

By Wednesday, he gained acceptance to a rehab facility a couple of hours north of the city. So he is gone. There is finally enough distance between us.

I'm not even going to comment because I just don't care anymore. Actually, I am going to point out that action for action, the same thing is happening to this girl's apartment that happened to mine. I don't even know her name, but she must be stronger person than me to not stay as long as I did. Or rather, he made it easy for her because his rock bottom is getting closer and closer.

She didn't press charges for his domestic-violence arrest and subsequent 72-hour hold. She didn't press charges because he said he would then press charges against her for whatever happened. Whether or not his charges would be taken seriously, she didn't want to take the risk. Which I get. I totally get it because it was the same reason I never did anything. So once again his bullying keeps him unaccountable for his actions.

On the same day of his domestic-violence arrest, public court records showed that his sham-suit lawyer filed a motion to withdraw said suit against the car he hit in that accident a year and a half ago. This means that I am totally off the hook for depositions and subpoenas and S locating me. It feels like a small victory.

I don't know if anything will come out of the domestic disturbance arrest. The fact he entered rehab again will certainly work in his favor. He's never been held accountable a day in his life, so I can't imagine why it should start now.

Cheer

I just got back from my spring break. However the only vacation that was involved were the vacation days I took off from work. I spent the week at my grandmother's nursing home in rural North Carolina. My days were spent sitting in a darkened room that smelled like urine for hours on end with me afraid to touch anything. Sitting in a nursing home like that, it changes you mentally.

I'm back at work now and listening to other people's vacations. Those who took cruises to Caymans. They are tan and relaxed and chipper and it makes me feel sorry for myself. My mornings were spent in tears because I couldn't mentally psych myself up for another day sitting and listening to the screaming. I keep hearing that what I did was a good and invaluable thing, but I can't see further than my own misery right now.

That damn 5k is Saturday. I haven't been to the gym in two weeks and I really don't want to go anymore. Besides my continued and longstanding hatred for running, there is an event at the city history center that I really want to attend. Of course, it is perfectly possible for me to do both, but dammit, I don't wanna.

I need a shot of B12 in the ass or a large glass of $5 wine.

Men are still people too

One of the reasons I rode out Christopher's unemployment with him is because we've done this before. I knew him back in 2006 when he had a great job and was working full-time. I remember laying in his bed and watching him get ready for work in the bathroom. He'd put gel in his hair and make the Zoolander Blue-Steel face while he distributed the product. Every morning this made me erupt in giggles and every morning he would respond by slamming the bathroom door shut. I knew he wasn't another couch-surfing boyfriend.

Work hasn't even begun yet and he's been mentally and emotionally and physically available. Actually he's been that way since he started calling again and I went on my trip to the mountains without him. We've gone from watching the Sex and the City movie last year when he told me to never tell him I loved him, to watching The Blind Side last weekend when he told me to never decorate our house like that when we buy one. His kisses have gone from puckered whisks to sloppy open mouthed greetings.

I've changed too. For the past few months I've been wanting to share feelings with Christopher more than I have. I've been wanting to talk about my therapy and share some of the S incidents (not anymore, but while they were still relevant) so I wouldn't feel like I'm going through everything alone. But I've been withholding and slowly resenting him for not feeling like I could come to him about those things. I think it stems back to when I originally told Christopher about the true nature of my relationship with my ex. I was just so disappointed in his initial response that I decided that Christopher could not handle the truth about my weaknesses. He doesn't view weakness as an opportunity for growth or change. Furthermore, he won't show his. The only time he will admit something embarrassing about himself is if I lead the way with my own inadequacies.

So I stopped. And so did he. I started to become resentful.

My therapist offered Christopher free service with one of her practitioners when he was really depressed. He refused, presumably because of the stigma of asking for help. I thought it was irrational because he knew I went to see one. I realized though he still felt the stigma because I never talked about it. I may have even perpetuated it.

I remembered a blog post I had written near the beginning of our relationship emphasizing the importance of truth, no matter how dirty or ugly it was. I gloated about its effect on our relationship. How my honesty made him honest. I haven't been living like that anymore.

So I picked up the phone one day and dialed Christopher. "I just got home from therapy," I announced.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, interested.

"Yeah. I'm kind of bummed out because we talked about my father." We talked about him too and his recent depression, but I decided not to lead with that. And Christopher listened while I talked about things that were unimportant to him. A few days later, he also listened when I brought up what she had said about his depression, including medical reasons for his physical exhaustion and recommended herbal supplements. He wasn't mad or pissed off that I had talked about him or his depression, and pretty soon he was asking me questions about it on his own.

The night I found out about my ex's arrest for domestic violence, I just told Christopher as if it was something we talked about more than the one time. He began going down the road of How could you subject yourself to that and I simply responded with I didn't tell him the latest news so he could come down on me about it; I just thought he would want to know.

He paused briefly. "Okay," he said. He said it positively, like he completely understood.

Christopher asked when was the last time S had tried to contact me. Honestly, I answered two weeks ago.

"But we were still together then," he whined.

I explained that he calls and leaves voicemails or texts or threats and I never return them. That it's not a big deal. But Christopher sounded like his boyfriend status was being threatened, like S might still have an impact with me. I can't imagine why he would think that way. Christopher was my dream guy that I wished and dreamed and prayed over. He has no reason to feel threatened.

It's been proven not once, but twice that honesty does amazing things for our relationship.

April 5th

*Cue music*

Christopher got a job! Yea!

He interviewed with a leasing company that required him to work 45 days out of town in different cities, and then be off for two weeks before leaving town again.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

I huffed. Being gone for 45 days at a time is a long time. I knew that if he took this job, I couldn't be in the relationship any longer. People can have entire relationships in 45 days.

"You don't want me to take it, do you?"

You know how in movies, especially romances, someone doesn't say what he or she is really feeling for some reason or another, so the couple doesn't get together and another hour of the movie goes by until the big revelation? Yeah, that's not me.

"For selfish reasons, I don't want you to be gone 45 days at a time and only be home for two weeks. That is not a relationship. But if you have to work and need the money, I understand," I qualified.

"It's just that if I take this job, I won't be able to keep looking for work," he said. "How in the world would I be able to interview if I am out of town for 45 days?"

"Well is this job enough for you to compensate you for not having another job? Something in your field? Would this be fulfilling enough to give that up?"

"No."

"Then I think you have your answer," I said.

So Christopher did not take the job. A week later I sent him a flurry of text messages about watching The Biggest Loser together at his apartment, to which I received no reply.

OMG, are you alive?! I finally sent.

Halfway into Biggest Loser on my own couch, my phone chimed.

Sorry, I was trying to nap because I have to meet with my recruiter at 7:30 tomorrow morning, he had sent.

I snorted, thinking he must really need his rest in that case.

Wednesday night I call Christopher while I was climbing into bed.

"How was the meeting with your recruiter this morning?" I asked.

He goes into this 10 minute explanation of all the tests he had to take at the headhunting company and the results on each test. He details how long the test were and how well he did on them.

"Uh huh," I mumbled while I was flipping through the Felicity DVD menu.

"And then I interviewed at a company and got a job," he finished.

"YOU WHAT?" I exclaimed. The boy likes playing with me, that's for sure.

"I start April 5th," he glibly said.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME 10 HOURS AGO AND TELL ME THIS? OH MY GOD, I AM SO MAD AT YOU!" I shouted.

Christopher giggled.

It's a 9-to-5, Monday-to-Friday in the city suburbs as an insurance analyst. Not exactly his career path, but pretty close to it; it will look good on his resume. It doesn't pay his normal salary either, but it's a job that he can go to work and come home and still send out resumes and interview. More importantly, it ends his unemployment and provides him a regular schedule and a reason to get up every morning. It provides him with self-worth.

He and I are both counting down to April 5th. Four more work days. He's counting down to starting a new job and I am counting down for my week-long vacation to visit my sick grandmother.

Broken Up and Broken Down

It has been several months since I have heard from S's step-mother, probably not since the new year. It felt strange not talking to her—and I thought about calling her more than once—but I know in order for me to be healthy there has to be some distance.

That's one thing that sucks about breakups; you're not just losing someone who was once the closest person to you in the world, but you also lose a litany of friends and relatives in the process. I don't think there are many people who truly care about me out there, so to give up his father and step-mother are truly loses for me.

However S's step-mom called me while I was at work on Friday. I knew for her to call me in the middle of the day that something was up. She asked if I had heard from S recently. I told her about the phone calls and voice messages I received a couple of weeks ago, but I had not spoken to him since last September.

She said she was calling to alert me that S is in jail. She said S "did to his new girlfriend what he did to [me]." Apparently Convict Rehab Girlfriend was breaking up with him and they got into an argument and S called his dad, saying he thought he was about to be arrested. He told his dad Convict Rehab was getting arrested for domestic violence and he was getting arrested for disturbing the peace. A quick phone call to the jail by one of S's family members confirmed that S was in jail for domestic violence and under a mandatory 72-hour hold.

She elaborated, telling me that Convict Rehab's father and grandfather are both state judges and the grandfather had shown up to the scene. So basically S is screwed. Shit creek and all that jazz. She also said that S was fired the week before from Marshall's where he had been working since rehab. She said a whole bunch of other details that I've already forgotten because it's just S's lies that I don't even have the energy or the care to follow anymore, but basically he lied about why he was fired and everyone suspects he is using again. I said I don't think he ever stopped. His mother is already planning which parent he is going to live with when he gets out of jail. S's father laughed really hard and hung up the phone on her after telling her that S is 34 and it's time for him to grow up or fall down.

I asked when this happened, when was S arrested. She said the night before last. Wednesday night. I thought about what I did on Wednesday night: I went to therapy, came home and called Christopher and my mom to discuss what I learned in therapy (daddy issues, shocker), had a quick bite to eat while I watched American Idol and Real World and went to bed early so I could watch an episode of Felicity before falling asleep. It was a good, relaxing night and I slept very well. I've almost forgotten about the nights I used to have with S. Obviously his nights have stayed the same.

I've learned several things by this latest incident:

It. Wasn't. My. Fault. Yes, I know this has been told to me and discussed extensively in therapy and there is a very emotional scene in Good Will Hunting over the same topic, but I always believed I contributed to the fights with my sharp tongue and I knew just what to say that would push his buttons (see: Go take a dump in some other girl's car). Convict Rehab is a whole other person with a whole other attitude and the same thing happened to her. He didn't hit her over anything I said and did. It wasn't my fault.

The story is that Convict Rehab went to jail too. I do not know if this is true or not. My mother once asked me why I never called the police after one of his attacks. I told her it was because he told me he would lie and ensure I would go to jail too. It was enough to frighten me and not do it. I was not willing to risk going through the embarrassment of handcuffs and mug shots and finger printing and sitting in the scariest jail in the state over something that wasn't my fault. And it sometimes happens. I've seen Cops. If the police can't figure the story out, then both will go to jail. If Convict Rehab was arrested too, then I know I made the right decision for me to not get the police involved.

I always felt like I was the catalyst that made S's life go to pot. He was progressively getting worse by attacking me more and more frequently towards the end of the relationship, but while he was with me, he had an apartment and a job. Then I leave, sticking him with the apartment I know he could not afford alone and he no longer had to hide his alcohol and drug use, so he quickly got fired from work and evicted from the apartment. Then he started going to the hospital for attention and called me and his family members with threats of suicide. He never pulled that crap while we were together. Then there was the psychotic break and the stints in a mental institution and two rehabs and getting kicked out of both of them and getting fired again and now getting arrested. (My god, he's been busy). Besides getting fired, none of that happened while he was with me; he was arrested when he was with every other girlfriend but me. I learned that I wasn't the catalyst; I was what held him together. I made him a better person for as long as I could stand it. And I'm kind of proud of that. I am a good and worthy person.

I heard he was able to leave jail long enough to go to the hospital again. This time for anxiety. He was scheduled to be arraigned Monday morning and I don't know if he was bonded out. I know his parents claimed they weren't going to do it. But the step-mother called to warn me because he has a tendency to contact ex-girlfriends when his current relationship is in trouble. It makes me a little nervous, but not nearly to the extent his contacts used to scare me.