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And so, after many hours away from my desk, I reconnect to try and finish off this story. Because once I finish writing it down, maybe I can move away from it, and I will stop feeling quite so sad. Maybe. But I�m not making any guarantees.
I went out at 11:30 today with Ann and Diane to the Marriott to meet with the catering manager and make the final arrangements for our holiday party. We chose a menu. Talking about it made us hungry, so we went to Joe�s, site of the Boyfriend�s and my first date, for lunch. Haven�t been back there since then. Eating across from the table we were seated at made me smile. I was so damn nervous that night. Don�t think I actually ate more than four bites of my dinner. We had walked for an hour through the North End before they seated us, waiting for the stupid flashing pager thing to go off and call us back to the restaurant. I kept being afraid we�d run out of things to say to each other. We didn�t.
That�s the thing. All this talk about the Artboy may make you think that I�m fooling myself, being with the Boyfriend. You may be thinking that he�s a poor substitute for the Real Love of my Life. Go ahead�think it. It�s a possibility I�ve considered. But then I remember how sad I was the Valentine�s Day that I spent with the Artboy after I�d banished the Boyfriend. How I spent the whole night thinking of him. How the Artboy knew I was sad, and how we spent the whole night talking around the subject. I remember the first time I had sex with the Artboy after I found Amanda in his bed. How I broke down and cried at the thought of betraying the Boyfriend, although I had already by that point told the Boyfriend that I was still in love with the Artboy by then. I remember how, even now, I get this funny little feeling in my stomach when I hear him on my steps, and how the seeing him can sometimes take my breath away. It�s not that I love the Artboy any less. It�s just that I maybe love the Boyfriend more. Well, maybe not more. Just differently. Better, as in it�s a higher quality love.
I threw my shoes at the Artboy once. It was right after the New Year�s Eve party he�d invited Amanda to, the party where I saw in the new year crying by myself in the bathroom. Two nights later, as we were trying to clean up the emotional aftermath, he told me he was still in love with her. I told him he had no fucking respect for me, and threw my shoe at his head. He sat and watched me do it, then sat and watched me take the second one off and throw that as well. Later, he asked me, "What else was I supposed to do? You were so angry, I was afraid to move."
Before I met the Artboy, I didn�t know I had that kind of anger with me. Anger fueled by passion. The scariest kind. Yes, I love him, but it was a dangerous love. An all-consuming love, the kind that makes you lose yourself. He became everything to me. Which made losing him such a scary proposition. If he was gone, what then did I have left?
A few weeks ago, Chris (my roommate) went to a going-away party for a couple friends who were moving to Washington State. G-n-R (as we�ve always affectionately called them, as he is a big cheesy 80�s pop metal fan) used to live in the downstairs apartment in the Artboy�s house, and were friends of all of ours. I was invited to the party, but had other plans, which was okay, since I was certain the Artboy would be there. He was. Chris came home and mentioned this the next day. His comments went like this:
"I saw (Artboy) at the party last night. Met his new girlfriend, too. Of course, I don�t remember her name. Oh, and Mike was there, too."
This, gentle reader, is the difference between guy friends and girl friends. If one of my girl friends had met her, I would have gotten DETAILS! Not just a name, but a physical description. I would have learned what she was wearing, how long she and Artboy had known each other, how they met, where she was from, how she seemed with his�MY�friends, whether any of them had met her before. All of that stuff I (morbidly) wanted to know. From Chris, I get "Met his new girlfriend. Don�t remember her name."
I need more girl friends.
So the fact is, maybe if the timing had been different, if the Artboy and I had both wanted it at the same time and both really been into it and working on it at the same time, we would�ve maybe found a place to work out. Maybe. But his life is so different from mine right now�he�s in grad school, living in a warehouse space downtown with seven other people, playing out in a band, living the art lifestyle. Me? I�m working in an administrative job 8:30-5, Monday-Friday. I joined the Y to take yoga. I hang out with my best friend and her two-year-old. I go to bed at 11, after watching some stupid TV and the 10:00 news. Someday, Artboy wants the house and the kids and the picket fence. But he�s got a seven-year lease on the gallery. And his life isn�t going to change any time soon. And I HATED his lifestyle. It made me cranky and resentful. And his art friends called me "Dude" all the time, which drove me insane. I wasn�t willing to wait. And his new girlfriend has a nose ring, and is an art student, too, and stays up �til the wee hours of the morning and doesn�t hate being in nightclubs and coming home smelling like smoke, and getting four hours of sleep before heading out to do it all over again.
On the other side, I get to grocery shop with the Boyfriend, because we like to cook together. We planned a vacation and spent four days in CT at a cozy little B&B where we got to fall asleep in front of the fireplace in our room. And I know that when he asks me to marry him, which I know he�s going to do, it won�t be because he thinks it will stop me from leaving him. It will be because he can�t stand the thought of waking up without me beside him for one more day. And I will say yes, because I hate saying goodbye to him over the phone and good morning to him over my email. He is my friend and a wonderful boyfriend, and I got the good end of this deal. And I am glad.
But then there�s that little piece of me that really MISSES the Artboy. Not being his girlfriend, because we were never very good at that. I miss HIM.
It�s a strange thing. I don�t think you ever fall OUT of love with someone you truly fell IN love with in the first place. I think you just find a different place to put that feeling. And I�m struggling to find a place to put it. I always told the Artboy that I didn�t think I could be his friend if and when we ever broke up. He always told me in return that he�d always have a place in his life for me. The exact opposite has turned out to be true, and I�m sad about that.
About three weeks ago, I sent the Artboy another email. It was after we�d both received another invitation to another party another friend was having. This time, neither of us could go, but it reinforced to me the belief that we�re going to see each other eventually. Not wanting it to be an awful and akward moment, I emailed him and invited him to join me for dinner, no strings attached, just because I miss being his friend, and because I want to know that things are going okay with him, and to hear about the gallery and his band and all the good things happening with him. I told him he could take me up on the offer then, or a month from then, or a year from then,. Whenever he wanted it, the offer still stood.
He still hasn�t acknowledged it.
I�m still waiting.
And part of me feels guilty for waiting. But how do you just shut off that big a piece of your life after so long? I�ve now known him for almost six years. For three and a half of those years, we lived in the same small space. For four and a half of them, he was my other (if not better) half. What do you do with the empty space that gets left behind?
If anyone has a suggestion, I�m open.
(Next Artboy entry is here)
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