In the privacy of a little known account on a blog site that no one would suspect, I begin to reflect upon what seems to be the end of the beginning. It’s the eve of a new chapter in my life, one that makes me the embodiment of statistical defiance. In less than a month, I become the first degree-holding member of my family. You would think I would be significantly happier than I am right now but, frankly, I’m absolutely tired. The past month has been perhaps the most chaotic on record, with old love dying and new love doing something – not sure what.
A couple of years ago, I found myself lurking on a site of ill-repute just killing time. It was my mother’s birthday and, having lost her 10 years prior, I was a little down on life and just trying to distract myself. Over the course of a couple of hours, I fielded the usual barrage of messages requesting everything from general conversation to random, meaningless sexual rendezvous. Needless to say, the sex was out of the question. I don’t think I could have gotten it up if I had wanted to. This one creature, however, caught my attention. He seemed to have a heart and was real about it. He wasn’t out for sex, at least not to my knowledge, he just wanted a conversation. His name was Josh. Josh and I spent several hours on the phone that night. We were up until nearly 5 in the morning, only to meet at a little restaurant near my house later that afternoon. A month later, we were officially an item and I fell hopelessly in love with him.
The relationship saw so many hard times, the predominate portion of which were not our fault, but we made it through them – that is until the Summer of 2006. We broke up one night, in a blur of tears, and I lost it. I drank half a bottle of tequila and walked down the outer perimeter route here in town, only to get picked up by a friend of mine several blocks away. I was crying insanely because, to me, my heart seemed irreparably broken. It took several months for me to put myself back together and, right as I was about to get everything straight in my head, I got a message from Josh. He wanted to talk.
After several hours of conversation online, we met at a park near his end of town. There, we talked for hours about everything that we felt – our fears, our concerns, and the end of our relationship. That night, we got back together in secrecy and didn’t reveal this fact to anyone for a couple of weeks. When the news finally came out, my friends were supportive and wished me the best of luck. His friends, however, were not as amused.
We fought through the criticism from his camp and made another go at it. We celebrated anniversaries as if we had never been apart, we did much better, I thought, than we ever had before. It was about a month later when he called me from the local bar, advising that he was drunk and surrounded by friends. I had class the next morning so I wasn’t feeling left out at all, I was glad he could have fun. His friend Jason was in the background referring to him as a “monogamous prude.” I had never been so proud as to hear those words, it meant that even his friends knew that he was happily taken.
The next morning, Josh called me in tears. He had drank too much, he said, and lost track of his “sober sister” – that is, his heterosexual body guard. The next thing he recalls is accidentally taking some acid and losing consciousness. According to his story, he woke up on the receiving end of some oral sex and immediately put a stop to it. He left the apartment – his friend Jason’s apartment. I skipped all but one class that morning and went to be by his side. After fussing at him for getting so drunk and losing his sober sister, I told him that I was sorry and that I was there regardless. He fired off a message to Jason, via e-mail, that simply advised that their friendship was over as it almost cost him his boyfriend. That was the last time the subject was discussed until about three days ago.
Josh and I broke up the weekend after Valentine’s day. We had had a rather nasty argument the night before and figured that we probably weren’t right for each other. It was a simple break-up and seemingly pain-free for both parties involved. He said he thought we shouldn’t be together, I asked if he was sure. He said yes, I walked out the door and made some phone calls to start my day. It was as if nothing had happened.
Several days later, in a blur of alcohol induced weakness, I hacked his e-mail in an attempt to find anything to make my heart hurt a little less. I found it. It was a message to Jason advising that he was going to be out at that same bar that night and wanted to know where he could score some ecstacy. That communication was sufficient enough to let me know that it wasn’t that Josh was taken advantage of, Josh merely had lied to avoid getting caught cheating. Thus begins tonight’s reason for writing.
The Friday after Josh and I broke up, I went out to Applebee’s with some friends of mine. Maggie and some of the girls from school had requested my presence for drinks and whatnot. I, unfortunately, had given up alcohol, amongst other things, for Lent. En route to Applebee’s, I received a phone call from Jonathan, that same friend that had picked me up all those months ago as I walked from Josh’s house. He was coming into town from Frankfort and was bringing a friend. I invited him to Applebee’s.
So in walks Jonathan and his friend. We all have a seat and there the night begins. Maggie and the girls got hammered, Jonathan and Ryan, his friend, followed suit. I couldn’t stop looking at Ryan. He was absolutely gorgeous. After all the drinking, Maggie and the girls were going to meet back at her house for more drinks and other foolishness. Jonathan, being already way too drunk, advised that it would be best if we went back to my apartment instead. Ryan, of course, followed. The boys spent the night talking with me while watching random movies that I had bootlegged from Limewire. Ryan and I walked outside to smoke. On the porch, Ryan and I discussed where we were from, what we were doing with our lives, and where our hearts had been so far. I still couldn’t help looking at him. He moved in for a kiss. A week later, we were officially an item.
A few days later, I got a call from the doctor. I had gone and gotten tested the morning before the Applebee’s trip. The doctor was calling to advise that I had tested positive for Hepatitis C and needed additional testing to confirm that and to assess the damage. I immediately left school and had bloodwork done. On the way home, I called my sister and then, my ex-bf Chris to try and find some way not to lose my mind over this rather shocking bit of information. Chris spent hours on the phone with me trying to help me hash it all out. We had almost finished our conversation when I asked him how he would deal with this information in light of my new little relationship. He didn’t really know.
After a couple of hours of praying and thinking, I text messaged Ryan. “Hey baby, I’m not really gonna be good conversation tonight so I will just have to talk to you tomorrow. ” He immediately calls me and asks what’s wrong. After much hesitation, I tell him what the doctor had said. His first words were “Are you ok?” I said no and started crying hysterically. After all I had dealt with, I thought, why this too? I was convinced that Ryan was going to call this relationship off. I was surprised when he said, “Look. I don’t care what you are going through. We’ll get through this together. I just want to be with you.” I lost it again. I think that’s probably when I fell for him.
A week later, the doctor let me know.. It was a false alarm. I was good.
Fast-forward to this past weekend. I received an e-mail from Josh, replying to a blog entry I had written where I basically called him out for being a cheating bastard. He asked me if I was serious, I told him what I knew. I got really upset and ended up spending most of that night crying and drinking cheap red wine. It was then that I realized that something was wrong with me, something that I hadn’t thought was the case. I still had much more healing to do, most of which I had not expected to deal with.
I seriously considered leaving Ryan that night because I became rather scared of him. He represented the possibility of getting hurt again and, frankly, I still don’t know that I have it in me to survive another fuckwit breaking my heart. I spent two and a half hours on the phone with Chris, trying to keep Ryan in light of all my fears. Chris listened to the story I’ve told thus far, along with some minor details, and made it clear that I would be stupid for leaving him – this guy is a boy scout, figuratively speaking.
That next night, yesterday, I called Ryan while he was out of town on a business trip. He was sitting in a hotel room, drinking by himself and watching TV. We talked for probably an hour and a half before the shit hit the fan and we were fighting. The cause of the fight was a comment he had made about “doing some coke” and how that conflicted with my zero-tolerance policy on drugs harder than pot. I had overreacted, he wasn’t doing coke just pulling my chain. It was too late, however, because in the midst of the clean-up conversation, he made it clear that my little policy on this was judgmental and snobbish. He acted as if I was saying this just because I enjoy being on a high horse or something equally as insulting. I called him on the disrespect. He spent the rest of the night apologizing and, for that matter, sent texts most of today telling me that he loved me and that he was sorry.
He sent one around 2pm, I responded that I was in a meeting with my boss. I was and the subject was him. Heather, my supervisor, spent about an hour talking to me about the situation. I ended up coming to the conclusion that he may very well be an alcoholic. He drinks a lot and often. He drinks alone, especially in random hotel rooms 700 miles away. When he drinks, sometimes he gets verbally .. well.. abusive. He gets mean. Other times, he gets all wonderful and romantic and says the most heart-warming things I have ever heard. Last night was the last straw, I think. Something has to change because, as if I’m not scared enough for my own reasons, now I have to wonder if I have gotten myself involved with a verbally-incontinent alcoholic.
I still don’t know what to do or what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps this will all go away and never be an issue again. My hope is that I am just blowing this out of proportion and he’s just .. well.. fucking French. In light of Josh and his deception, I just honestly don’t know what to believe when it comes out of a man’s mouth anymore. Hopefully God will straighten that out for me – soon.
Posted in General Rant
