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.

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?

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.

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.

Valentine's Day, according to Facebook

Schmoozer's BF took a girl to dinner that he had been seeing for a month. She got him a card, a couple bottles of wine, two wine glasses and a wine aerator. He got her nothing.

Mel's boyfriend sent her a beautiful bouquet of flowers to work. They did not see each other, but they scheduled a date for the next day.

Jenna and Government Mule posted hearts to each other's timelines. No usual check in for a date.

Harvey and her husband totally stole Abe's and my date last year and went to Waffle House. Date thieves!

Katie cooked a meal of heart-shaped ravioli and chocolate-covered strawberries. People kept commenting that her boyfriend should propose. He did not respond.

Abraham gave me a single red rose at midnight, the same as he did for our anniversary. He then gave me a pound of Reese's peanut butter cups. I gave him a smaller gift, a giant bacon magnet for his refrigerator.

The next morning I walked to my car to go to work. Sitting on the driver's seat were the remaining 11 roses of the bouquet and a card. The message was simple, which is very Abraham. The card also stated that he would take me to the spa when we go skiing on vacation. When he got home, Abraham received his beard wash and another funny t-shirt.

That night we met up with his roommate and her boyfriend. The four of us grilled steaks and made s'mores by the backyard fire. I didn't mind sharing my date with other people that I loved. All in all, it was a perfect night.

Take the Cake

I'm not a big fan of Facebook chat. Mostly the incoming messages startle me while I'm creeping on my news feed. I think the main problem with Facebook chat is that it's never someone you actually want to talk to.

Yesterday it was Christopher. I hadn't heard from him since last Valentine's Day when he sent me a friend request. I had sat on it for a week, accepted it, and then forgot about the whole thing.

His time stamp said he was in Puerto Rico. I'm not sure if you can hack time stamps, but I was wary. He talked about his vacation a bit.

"I see u have a dude. cool," he wrote.

"Yeah! Long time now!"

"Oh yea? cool. Will You let me buy you an awesome ice cream Birthday cake to make up for that birthday I had no money to buy you anything cool? you have to pick it up lol"

Christopher never got it. It was never about the money or not having a birthday cake. Just read the posts if you haven't. He didn't know where I lived. He proclaimed to my 10 closest friends that he just wanted to be a rich playboy. He told everyone he didn't love me. It was his treatment of me that caused me to end things. It was never about the money; it was about me feeling unsupported and alone.

I paused. That was a weird request. Christopher had moved out of the state a long time ago. His current time stamp reads Puerto Rico. It's not my birthday. Why order me a cake?

"That's all water under the bridge now," I typed back. "Besides I'm working out really hard and don't need the calories."

"Too bad you have one ready for pick up tomorrow after 5. I didnt personalize it so your bf wont freak or anything. You can tell him anyone sent it like ur dementia grandma lol"

"I don't keep secrets from him." The truth was Abraham already knew that Christopher IMed me. Abraham knows the story about the terrible birthday.

"That's weird," Abraham wrote to me.

"I know, right? We aren't eating cake right now and there's no room in your freezer, so I guess I'll just dump it at my apartment?"

"Wait. You're going to pick it up?" he asked.

Yes, because free cake? That's where my mind went.

"He doesn't live here anymore," I told him.

"Message me when you get the cake," Christopher wrote.

***

After work I headed to the gym. Christopher messaged me again.

"Did u get ur Birthday present?"

"I thought it was tomorrow after 5? I'm still at the gym."

"no tonight after 5 my dear"

"Ah well I'm not going to have time until tomorrow. I'm sure it will still be there."

Christopher: "no it has an exploding flavor flav clock on it"

Christopher: "u ruined it all"

Christopher:" u need it tonight!!!"

Christopher: "thats bs"

Christopher: "get ur fin cake lol"

Christopher: "If u dont get that fin cake im gonna flip out!!"

Me: "Dude. Chill. They're going to close before I can get there. Look at the convo. You said tomorrow."

At this point I was getting scared. I haven't spoken to him in years. I don't know if the Puerto Rico time stamps are real. Maybe Abraham was right. Maybe he ordered me a cake to get me to a specific location and time.

Christopher: "Not serious..Im on the beach drinking a pink umbrella drink..but darling Happy Birthday!"

Christopher: "Drinking a Nopalae drink with vodka..tyhis dude needs s breast reduction wtf"

Christopher: "itds pitch dark and i got stung by about 20 jelly fish"

Christopher: "]its kinda fun now when i dont"

Christopher: "im just putting them on my head now
numbing my brain"

Christopher: "sarah write a book about my life..lol"

Consider it done.

For Love or Money

Every year Abraham goes on a ski trip. As soon as he got back from the last one, he informed me that I would be going on the next one.

"The trip this year is going to be in February," Abraham emailed me and attached a long string of planning correspondence.

"Yeah. Sure. No problem."

I didn't really think anything of it other than my fear of powdered snow. I learned to ski in the South, which consisted of my middle school teacher attaching me to skis and then pushing me down a hill covered by a fake grass mat and a garden hose. I've been skiing a few times in North Carolina, but even that was fake snow. I've never been in powdered snow.

When Abraham added me to the planning emails, I started understanding the cost of things: the plane ride, the rental SUVs, the ski chalet. It would cost $800 just to get out there, not including food and rental equipment and lift tickets or any activity we actually want to do in the Rocky mountains. This was a $1,200 vacation, and we weren't even going to Europe.

I looked at my bank balance. I could afford it. I could write a check for it. But then I wouldn't be able to afford the bedroom furniture I had been saving for when Abraham and I move in together. And when I move in with him and his roommate, it's going to be cramped enough as it is without factoring missing furniture where I was planning to store my clothes. It would be another two or three months after I move in before I could order the master dresser.

While Abraham was sitting on the couch and looking at cabin rentals (minimum requirements: 5 bedrooms, ski in/ski out on the mountain, private hot tub), another email arrived:

"Sorry, guys. Looks like flights went up again since we last checked."

I gritted my teeth. This was getting expensive.

"What's wrong?" Abraham asked.

"I don't go on vacations like this. My vacations are weekends away at friends' vacation houses. Or a $250 cruise. I'm not used to spending this much money."

I dropped my head. "This was my furniture money."

Abraham knew how much I wanted the new furniture. It matches my current bedroom suite and is seemingly only available on the Internet because it's a few years old. The only reason I didn't buy it earlier is because it wouldn't fit in my apartment's tiny bedroom.

"I want you to have a good time and not worry about the money," he said. "I don't want you to not participate in things because it's too expensive. I invited you on this trip; I'll pay for lodging and whatever activities you want to do while we're there."

It was a lovely gesture, but I was embarrassed nonetheless. He's paid for hotels when we've gone to his friends' weddings, and he paid for my airfare when we went to meet his family, but this is different. This is a vacation.

I've always supported myself. My parents never paid a single bill of mine. If I couldn't afford something, I wouldn't go. I'd complain to my mom that I was missing out on things with my friends, and years later I found out that my friend's parents still support most of them. They couldn't afford it either, but did it anyway.

I value my independence. I'm proud of my independence. So it makes me uncomfortable to accept Abraham's money. He jokes that it will soon all be mine anyway. Which does raise a valid point: soon there will be no his and mine, but ours.

In the meantime Abraham pays for certain things and won't accept money from me. I'll write him a check and he won't cash it, so I've resorted to dropping the money in his PayPal account without telling him. I don't want him ever to feel like he's carrying me or that I'm a burden.