Thursday, October 20, 2011

Our Love Story: Part Four

If you haven't read parts one two and three, go read them. Now. I'll wait. 
You done? K good.

When we last left off, Bill had texted me and asked if he could come over and talk to me for a minute. At like 8 o'clock at night. On a Tuesday. Something that was pretty much unheard of for him. 
I was pacing around, freaking out, letting my head fill up with thoughts of doom and sadness. He was going to tell me he hated me, he was going to say he never wanted to see me again, blah blah blah.
He arrived, we went outside and sat on the trunk of the car, and after doing his best to explain why he had never let himself entertain the idea of us being together before, he said exactly this:
"I do like you, I do have feelings for you, I have for a long time, and I do wanna be with you. I wanna make a real go of it and give us a chance."
In that moment, my heart caught fire. I was so excited. He wanted to be with me! It was exactly what I wanted to hear.
Well, actually, what I wanted to hear was that he was sorry for almost letting me go. He was sorry it took him so long to see that we were right for each other, and I wanted to hear him say he loved me.
He didn't.
But in that moment I was so excited, I didn't think about that. All I heard was him saying he wanted to be with me.
We kissed, we went to Wendy's and ate Frosties, we sat in his car and talked and laughed and it was like we were us again. I was back where I belonged. 
I burst through the front door and told my roommate Bill and I were together. Finally. At last. He squealed a bit and jumped up and down with me, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world.
For the next day or two, I was walking on air.
I imagined us finally being together for real this time. I imagined him missing me, and falling in love with me, and making me a real part of his life, not just his Saturday night entertainment. I had never met his family or any of his friends and I had only met his kids a couple times. I thought all of that would change, and I spent entire days dreaming about what our life would be like together. 
And for a while, things were different. We talked more {and by talked I mean he texted me more}, we took a weekend trip to Vegas, which we'd talked about for a long time, he said he missed me, even if he only said it occasionally.

But something was wrong. 
He didn't love me, I know now that's what it was, but at the time, all I knew was something was missing.
I wasn't happy.
I wasn't satisfied with what he was giving me, and I hated myself for constantly wanting more. I could see it frustrated him when I'd ask for more time with him, when I complained that he never called me, when I mentioned that I still hadn't met his parents or his family or friends or anyone in his life. I felt guilty. 
I felt bad and selfish for wanting these things because he seemed to be trying so hard. Why couldn't I just be happy with the way things were? We were finally together, why wasn't that enough?
At the end of June, almost two months after we started dating again, I went on a 10 day trip with Dave and my kids to Illinois and Michigan. Something we'd been planning all Spring. We wanted to take the kids out of the state for the first time and Dave's hometown was like Mayberry. They would have so much fun in the country! 
But it meant not seeing Bill for a long, long time. 
He had his kids during the Summer, they had trips planned, he had two business trips coming up, and when we totaled it up, between my trip and his, we weren't going to see each other for 28 days.
Holy. Shit.
I was sad, but he didn't seem to really care, which bothered me endlessly. Now, whether or not he did care, who knows. But he didn't show much emotion about things, and he's the kind of guy who looks for the silver lining in a mushroom cloud, and that optimism sometimes can be confused by others as him not missing you or not caring that you're gone.
I left for Illinois feeling hurt, neglected and unwanted. While I was gone, I heard from him less and less. His texts got shorter and shorter, and I would sometimes go all day without texting him to see if he'd notice. He didn't seem to. I tried calling him, he rarely answered and never called me back. We talked on the phone all of one time while I was away. One. Time.
We'd been arguing before I left, and while I thought it was just growing pains as we adjusted to being a real couple, he felt like it was something much more. To him it meant things just weren't working. Which they probably weren't, I was just too determined/stubborn/in love to face that. 
I remember the one conversation we had while I was in Illinois, I told him I wanted to be with someone that was crazy about me, that adored me, and I felt I deserved that. He said he didn't know what more I wanted, he was trying his hardest, he really cared about me, etc. 
He never once said he was crazy about me.
It was all I wanted to hear.
I hung up the phone feeling so hurt and defeated. I wanted to break up. I wanted to scream in his face. I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to just stop answering his calls and texts to see if he'd even look for me.
Instead I decided that when I got back and I saw him, I'd know what to do.
I got back in town just as he was leaving town. I still didn't know what to do. I missed him. I loved him. I was floundering.
I couldn't talk to him about it. Getting him on the phone was nearly impossible, and I always felt like he just got mad when I tried to talk about how I felt. I said nothing. It helped no one.
I don't remember ever feeling so completely alone.

Finally, after a month apart, he came back into town, and Saturday rolled around. It was time to finally see each other.
On the drive over to his house, I wanted so badly to feel excited. To be happy. But I just wasn't. I was filled with anger and loss and a weird sense of dread. I didn't know what to do or what to say or how to act around him. It was like I hadn't seen him in years. 
We had planned that night to go to the Drive In movie, which is one of my absolute favorite things about Arizona. You can go to the drive in all year round, but if you go at just the right time of year, it's heavenly.
The whole ride to the drive in, I felt uncomfortable, sensitive and I could feel some kind of darkness coming off of him like heat. I wanted to cry.
When we pulled in, I made some joke about something, and in return he made an off color joke about me talking about my feelings too much, and I. Just. Lost it. 
How dare he criticize me for having feelings?! How DARE he complain?! If only he knew how much I DIDN'T say to him! I had a huge internal scream fest in my head, and then started to cry, because that's what I do when I'm too angry to find words. 
When we parked I tried to explain why I was upset, but I just ended up blurting out a bunch of emotional, nonsensical bullshit that didn't make my point and didn't make sense, and got us nowhere, until he interrupted me and told me I was "Totally fucking overreacting"
Bill never spoke to me that way before. Ever.
We should've left then but instead we stayed, and watched an entire movie about friends with benefits, in stony silence.
I didn't spend the night that night.
I tried, but I just couldn't feel at home there anymore.
I got up and drove myself home. I cried the entire way.

The next day we didn't talk at all. Not. At. All.
On Monday morning I texted him to say good morning, and that I was sorry.
He wrote back and asked me to meet him at my house. We needed to talk.
I knew what he was going to do.
I drove to my house with shaking hands. 
I sat on the trunk of the car and waited, just like I did when he said he wanted to be with me.
He pulled up, sat beside me, and said he needed to end it.
He explained it wasn't working out, and he said over and over {so many times I wanted to punch him} that he just wasn't in love.
He didn't love me.
He wasn't in love.
I got it.
I told him ok, if he wanted to leave he could leave, but he could never come back. We could be friends, but if he walked away now he was walking away from our relationship as anything more than friends, forever. 
I said "Even if you wake up tomorrow and realize you want to spend the rest of your life with me, you can't ever tell me." 
He agreed.
I died inside.
He drove away.
I started drinking in the middle of the day.

So I know I said this was a four parter, but it's not. Stay tuned for Part Five, tomorrow!

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