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I'm trying not to get my keyboard sticky as I type and eat my lunch at the same time. Sweet and sour chicken over white rice. I'll probably have a terrible stomachache later on, but right now it tastes good, so I guess it's worth it, maybe.
I thought about writing in here my whole trip home on the bus last night. Debated on whether I would tell anyone that I'd started doing this, or if I'd just leave it anonymous. Out there, for anyone to stumble on to, as I'm pretty sure the only way anyone would find it would be to stumble on to it. Then I started thinking about why I'm doing it, and realized that it has a lot to do with the Ex, and with that in mind, decided to keep it a secret, at least for now. At least until I get my head on a little better.
Of course, if anyone did stumble in here, they'd read that sentence and get the wrong idea. I love the Boyfriend. An awful lot. We've even talked a little wedding plans, which alternately thrills and terrifies me. I'm not sorry I broke up with the Ex, nor would I change my romantic life-as-it-is-now for anything. But there's just something...unresolved.
I met the Ex, the Artboy, while I was still living at home. He introduced me to the majority of my present friends, convinced me to move out of my house, and showed me the city in ways I would have never seen it without him. He's spontaneous and creative and fun and can be very romantic. When things were good, he made me feel very special.
Of course, he also smoked way too much pot. He ignored me a lot. He made me feel, sometimes, like he was biding his time with me until someone better wandered into his life. And then there was the whole obsession-with-the-ex-girlfriend thing. That got old. Having him tell me he was in love with someone other than me, invite her to a party we had planned together--all of that tends to be fairly relationship-breaking. Except that it wasn't. I stayed and grovelled and behaved in a way I'm ashamed of now, because I loved him so much more than I loved myself. Then he left a message at my house on a Friday, saying he had "an out-of-town friend" visiting, and he'd call me later in the weekend. When I finally got someone to answer his phone and tell me he was home, at 3:00 Sunday morning, the ex-girlfriend was upstairs in his bed. That broke things pretty effectively.
Months went by. He and I talked a little, then a little more. I rewrote the words to that song by the Refreshments, the one that starts off with the line about the supermodel, so that chorus instead said "Everybody knows that Vermont is full of stupid dickheads, so let's go on a mission to Johnston to settle the score. Everybody knows that Vermont is full of stupid dickheads, so I should be thankful that I'm not Amanda, that fucking whore." I stood in my kitchen and taught the song to my friends and drank blender drinks until I threw up. I dated a couple other men. Artboy distanced himself from Amanda and called me to see if I wanted to go see Scissorfight. He and I hung out a few times. We were in a fragile truce with serious sexual undertones.
Then I met the Boyfriend. Went away for the weekend with some friends, one of them invited her brother and his friends, we all stayed together. One of the brother's friends and I were the only sober people in a house full of drunk idiots. Consequently, we stuck together. And talked. And talked some more. By the end of the second night, I was suffering from a serious case of frustrated hormones. I wanted to throw myself at this man in a decidedly improper fashion. Through dinner the second night, I had to practically sit on my hands to keep from touching him. The weekend ended. I went home. Two days later, he called and asked me out. We started dating. On our second date, he took me mountain climbing and kissed me for the first time on top of the mountain. I was hooked. My improper thoughts compounded on themselves.
A few weeks into the new relationship, I saw the Artboy drive by. I waved. He waved. He stopped. I got in. We chatted. He cried. I hugged him. I told him I was sorry. I went home alone, but confused.
The phone calls started. Artboy had decided he needed to win me back. The pot smoking was gone. The ex-girlfriend was gone. The slacker attitude was gone. In their place was exactly the kind of boyfriend I'd always wanted to have. He started doing all those cute little things he knew would make me melt, but that he'd never done before. I came home from work one day to find flowers on my doorstep with a note--"Jennifer--happy Tuesday. I love you." I got more confused.
I told the new boyfriend just enough of what was going on to distance him a little. Then I started dating both of them. For a few months, I ran around in an upended haze. I made everyone crazy. Artboy told me he would wait me out, that he would do anything I needed him to do, as long as the end result was that we were together. Eventually, I told the new boyfriend that I owed it to myself and to the Artboy to see things through, and to be sure it wasn't what I wanted. I was afraid that if I just sent the Artboy away, I'd end up resenting the new boyfriend forever for ruining my chance. Sadly, I said goodbye.
Lunch is getting cold. I guess there's a part 2 ahead. (click here to get to part 2)
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