That time I ran into my ex and his ex.

It was a Friday. Over the last couple of months I have fallen into a pretty solid routine. Sundays I go to the Farmer's market. Then Trader Joe's. Then the record store. But this was a Friday, I was home, and I felt this pretty strong urge to go to Trader Joe's. I wanted this chicken salad thing that cost almost $5 and I couldn't really afford. I himmed and haa'ed and finally got dressed to go.

It was around 5:40pm and I pulled up just as the after work rush arrived. I scanned the parking lot with a bit of paranoia, checking for Daniel's car. The closest Trader Joe's to my house is a bit of a drive- and right near his work. I have absolutely no idea what his shopping routine is, and suddenly I felt awash with anxiety that I might run into him. Any time I went out in Midtown I felt this overwhelming anxiety. Worry that I would. Hope that I would. It's not that I didn't ever want to see him again- I did. But I wasn't really ready to. But I also felt this heightened awareness that he was probably going to move away as soon as he graduated. Although that was not part of his plans when we were together, or when he was with his ex, I just had this strong intuition that he was going to bail once he graduated. I felt like time was running out. And yet, I wasn't ready to see him either.

I kept my head down, staring to my right at the cars in the lot as I walked blindly into the store- and straight into a tall, warm body- and their mosquito sized breasts. I stumbled back, fairly startled.

And then did a double take.

In my distracted state, I had walked straight into the exit, and right into Daniel's ex.

She smiled at me, slowly, sort of like a pod person. Like her head was full of cotton. She stepped back easily and calmly and took even, smooth steps again towards the parking lot to her little white car. She had the most perfect hair I had ever seen in my life. Like a fucking Panteen commercial. Each curl perfectly formed and held. They bounced in precision too.

I stared. I probably drooled too. I mean, every brain cell I had cracked out of my head and dumped onto the sidewalk the second I had walked into her, I was so surprised. Never in the months since I had found out about the existence of this person had it ever occurred to me that I needed to worry about running into her. The perfect human. The human who broke my Daniel's heart and rendered him incapable of moving forward in our relationship, and essentially ruined our relationship. Of course, this is also Daniel's fault. Mostly Daniel's fault. But if we are each a little kinder and more adult in our own break ups, maybe the lovers we leave behind wouldn't be so fucked up for the next person

I just stood there, in the exit staring as the little white car backed up and pulled out of the lot before stumbling into the entrance and attempting to shop. Except I couldn't. I was shaking. I called my best friend, Kristin and paced around the store recounting the story. I noticed a middle age woman started following me around eavesdropping on my drama. I didn't even care. I don't remember if I bought anything. I was so out of it.

I head on to my favorite shop to work on job applications but 30 freaked out minutes later I have accomplished nothing and my anxiety is still raging. I stare, I dwell. I replay the moment over and over again in my head. Why the hell was she there? I didn't even think she lived in Sacramento. I thought she lived like 30 minutes away. Then I start ruminating on the fact that Daniel and she probably shopped at that Trader Joe's together as a couple. This makes my stomach churn. This was the relationship I thought I was going to have, and they had it. And I'm not going to get it. We aren't even speaking; we probably won't ever speak again because he is hung up on this woman with the perfect hair who treated him like crap and threw him out like garbage- like he did me.

I stare across the coffee shop and a familiar beat hits my ear. Fleetwood Mac. I sigh. Rhinanon. A song I love and have adored since childhood. I have been looking for the "Rumours" album on vinyl for about a month without success. I take it as a sign. I pack up my shit and head to the record store. I am being totally unproductive and sitting here is a waste.

I drive back across town and try to relax my body. The record store after the break up has become a place of solace for me. It was a place that Daniel introduced to me to, but it became a place that was my own. I parked the car and as I strode up to the door my eyes felt drawn up to a car crossing the intersection towards me. A black volkswagen. My eyes connected with the driver. A man with dark rimmed glasses and a beard. As he began to turn into the lot, our eyes connected and just as suddenly he turned the wheel and turned suddenly down the residential street. I froze. It was Daniel. he had been coming to the record store, saw me, and sped away.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I walked into the store and sped over to the vinyl section. I began to panic again. Did he really just speed away from me? Really? Did he leave or was he waiting for me to leave? Should I leave? Was he coming in here? My thoughts felt frantic. I flipped through the racks quickly. No Fleetwood Mac. I grabbed a Ryan Adams CD and fled the store for Target where I paced around for an hour trying to calm down. What the hell was that? Who does that? Maybe he just panicked. And what the hell is with seeing both of them on the same night? This is really what we have come down to? Running away from each other in a record store parking lot? Really?

Following in the steps of his healing

It's been such a long time since I've gone through the break up process I honestly don't really remember what it's like anymore. The last few days I've heard myself echoing in my own head Daniel's words about needing to be alone, and figure things out with therapy, and take care of myself. I started turning off my dating apps and saying no to the (many, many) dates I've been asked out on over the last few weeks and shutting down conversations that men keep starting with me. Even supposedly platonic conversations I have stopped in their tracks because, I am just not ready. I feel about as emotionally available as a tree stump.

 I'm sitting here in this coffee shop in midtown and every time I see a car that looks like his drive by my heart jumps a little, and in the same breath... my body feels like he's becoming a stranger a bit again. It's happening. He's going away. The memories are. We've been separated longer than we were together now and as much as I want to hold on to everything, the world has continued to spin madly on.

I hang on to everything I have because, this relationship mattered so much to me. And my heart still aches for the feelings he evoked in me and the connection I know we had. And I still cry. I cry in the car, curled in my bed late at night, over sad episodes of Sex and the City, and sometimes even in Target wandering around on a Saturday afternoon. But I can't stop him from going away. He's been gone physically for two months. I haven't communicated with him in a month now, and now, the part that I held and clung to so dearly- my memories- his voice, smell, how he held my hand, how he cradled me in his arms. Those things are starting to go too. Those are not things that I want parted from my memory and I know that I will cling to them as long as possible. And it will prolong the ache in my chest. But I can't help it. It's the only thing I have left now. I don't want that reality to happen. I don't want to meet him again one day as strangers. This man I loved so much. Even though I am afraid; I am already gone from his mind.

Why do we even bother with love anyway, when it causes this much pain?

Lost

It's 8 weeks today since Daniel and I broke up and I still feel so very lost. I feel like I don't know myself. I don't know who I am or what I want from my life. Every day I wake up, and lay curled up in this tight little ball and wish something other than last fall had every happened. Anything. That I never met him, or that I stayed in Oregon, or that he had been honest from the beginning and we had perhaps been friends instead of falling in love. Anything else. In September I was very, very ready to meet someone. And now I am so far set back I don't even know how long this is going to take me to get over this. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I will just wake up tomorrow and POOF all of these feelings and confusion will be gone.

Maybe.

There was this moment when we were breaking up- I can definitively point to it. I know what floor board I was staring at. And it felt like someone reached over and just blew out this little figurative candle I have carried and protected in my chest all of these years. Dreams I carried since childhood of being a parent, partner, homeowner and so on. Woosh. Out that candle went. And all of my dreams went with it.

I've never felt that sensation before. Not even with Matt. Even with Matt I still carried that candle that I wanted all of those dreams to come true. I worried endlessly that they wouldn't and worked hard to ensure they would.

This time, that little light went out.

I don't know if I want those things anymore. I don't know exactly what I want.

I know I am afraid to risk myself with someone again.

I have come to believe you can "make it work," with lots of people. I think Daniel's past testified to that. So does mine. There are personality matches, and then there are those deeper emotional matches, soul matches- what I believe this was. And I don't know that I could handle loosing someone I connected with as deeply as Daniel again. But how do you settle for a "make it work" person after having had a emotional soul match like the one I just had?

I'm probably just wounded.

Like Daniel's friend said when we first started dating... I'm a stage 5 clinger. It was the truth. To me, this was offensive. We were in a relationship. Why would it matter if I was clingy or not? Wasn't that sort of the point? The problem with that was, Daniel should have been out having a fling. Which was his friend's point. To his friend, the fact I had been single so long was a giant red flag. I wasn't someone out for a fling. Daniel didn't pick up on this. But that was because Daniel didn't pick up on the fact that HE should have been out having a fling.

I don't know what I want now. At this point, I'm probably the one who should be having a fling. Except that that's not me. My friends have talked me into two first dates and I'm just about done with that now. I left the second date upset, lonely for Daniel and reflective that regardless of how lonely I am in general, it's going to take me quite a bit of time to get over this relationship. The last time we saw each other, Daniel told me he probably wasn't going to be able to start dating until next summer. Now, while I suspect he has already started dating, (and has perhaps already had an entire relationship/fling and break up since me....) this estimate is in all honesty probably going to be the accurate trajectory for myself. But that's just how significant this relationship was for me.

I feel like crap. I'm depressed. I don't know who or what I'm looking for. I don't know if I want to get married anymore. I don't know if I want kids. I don't even know that I want to stay in Sacramento. Honestly, I don't know that I can. Every time I come here, I am parlayed with one horrible experience after another. Assuming this turns out how I expect (I never see or hear from Daniel again, just like every other significant partner in my life has abandoned me) I don't know that I really want to be here anymore. Especially if I don't have long term plans or goals for myself... Maybe I just want to start over somewhere else. Without plans, the world really is my oyster and I'd rather spend my time exploring it. The only idea that truly excites me at this point is travel. If I had funds, I wouldn't even be here right now, I'd be in an old VW Bus, on the road. Or in Europe with a back pack. Or in SE Asia. Anywhere but here. I do want a job and a career, and I have been playing with the idea of once again continuing my education but the student loan thing stops me in my tracks.

Since those things aren't options right now, I am working on getting a job, exploring the hobbies I enjoy (concerts, music, guitar, roadtrips, swing dancing and so on) and trying to take care of myself. And working on my social life. I'm doing the best I can.

I know this post is exploding with depression. But that's just where I am at right now.

First Date at Chicago Fire: That time my Tinder Date CRIED

I met the guy on Tinder. He had a nice bio, a nice smile, and cleverly quipped with me over text. The intellectual chemistry was fairly smooth and (with heavy peer pressure from my friends) agreed to a date with him fairly quickly. He seemed entertaining enough, and he certainly got my jokes.

We were to meet at Chicago Fire, a restaurant and bar in Midtown that I had always wanted to try, but had never gone to, so I was pleased over the location. Although when I got there I realized it was within a block or two of Rick's Dessert Diner... a special place for Daniel and I, and also within walking distance of Daniel's apartment. It threw me off, and the non-nonchalant vibe I had been trying to fake to myself crumbled as I sat and cried in my car for a bit. I hate dating in general, and I hate the pressure that comes with meeting new people- jumping through hoops, unconsciously trying to impress each other- even if you don't really like them there's always some level of posturing, and of course the nerves. I also always felt like I was cheating on Daniel. This should have probably indicated I hadn't taken enough time for myself before attempting the dating scene, but I was getting so much flack and pressure from my friends about how I needed to "move on" that I felt that I had to start going out, even though I was pretty much crying every day, not eating, and felt horrendously depressed. It might have been a wise recommendation that I attend group therapy, but this was the best idea my friends came up with. "Use them for free drinks and get even for all the men that have screwed you over," they said. But I won't let them pay for my drinks unless I'm interested. So that doesn't usually work in my favor.

This guy was intelligent, kind, educated, had a good job with the legislature... it had potential- why not? I didn't really ask many questions about the future or what he was interested in or looking for and tried to just go with it, which for me is pretty off the wall and out of character.

I walked the two dark blocks to Chicago Fire and pushed the heavy door open into the restaurant. At first I didn't see anyone appearing to be waiting for me, or anyone obviously sitting alone at the bar, like a date would be. I knew he was  already there, so I was a little confused. Then, from a dirty table covered in plates and half eaten pizza, an extremely vertically challenged man waved me over.

My date had apparently commandeered a used table.

I awkwardly perched on a stool in front of some other person's half eaten pizza crust and smiled at my date... and tried not to stare. A large wound of some kind seemed to be protruding from the middle of his forehead.

...What the hell was that?

I smile. We shake hands. "So you must be very full from all of these pizzas! Exactly how many other dates did you have before me?!" I start needling him right away. Trying not to stare. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

He makes some jokes about the line of Tinderellas that preceded me in the restaurant.

I keep glancing back and forth between his face... and that thing on his forehead.

Is it is a zit? A massive, gigantic zit?

I lean on my hands and try to look away... and not put my elbow in the marinara sauce on the table.

This is already so awkward. 

The banter is quick and witty and entertaining, but already I have thought a thousand times, What the hell is he thinking? 

Finally a waitress comes and clears the table.

It's so dark in the restaurant I just can't get a look at the massive tumor on his head. It's a zit right? A giant big bite? Why doesn't he acknowledge it? Just own it! Doesn't he know I'm avoiding looking at him simply so I won't stare?

Suddenly the conversation turns. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but our witty banter suddenly shifted to a serious discussion about his family. I pause. I had already been struggling to keep up while I invented various stories about the massive tumor in the middle of his face. He leans his face into mine and... launched into specific detail about each member of his family's psychiatric history...

I clear my throat. I nod empathatically. I too, am wildly guilty of the over-sharing. Everyone knows this. Perhaps he hasn't realized he's starting to tread too far. I make a joke and try to help him back pedal. He shakes his head and plunges farther into stories of electric shock treatments and suicide attempts and people being committed to various asylums. Mmmkay.

"You just can't save everybody." No, looney date, sometimes you can't.

Now he was discussing his maternal side of the family. Surely he couldn't have too many more relatives?

"That must be very difficult for you,"I hear myself saying. I sip my beer. He shows no sign up stopping so I better pace myself.

Suddenly I hear a bizarre choking noise. I glance at my date. I had been trying so hard to not look at him directly so as to avoid wondering about that THING on his head.

He was crying. CRYING. The man was openly weeping at the table. He had begun talking about a cousin and had just lost it.  I glance at my iPhone. I had been on this date for 36 minutes. My date was sobbing at the table. WHAT EXACTLY IS THE PROPER PROTOCOL FOR THAT?

He continues sniffling and sobbing, babbling on about his mentally ill cousin. I have no idea what to do. DO I PAT HIM? HUG HIM? What if the tumor is contagious? A tear splashes to the dirty table. I have no idea where to turn my gaze. The sauce covered high top. The zitty tumor, which now curiously looks like it might have some dried blood in it. My date's tear-stained face. I admire my hands. I've always thought I had such pretty hands.

"We all have our challenges,"I hear myself saying.

My date sucks some snot back into his nasalcavity.

I try not to gag.

The waitress wizzes over with the check. "Split it?" My date says, suddenly recovered. Praise Jesus.
"Suuuuure." I respond, hesitatingly.  But shouldn't I get the beer for free as compensation?

"So, would you like to come back to my place? Or maybe grab another drink at the bar next door?"
"What?" How is this hell not over yet?
"It's only 9:40! I can make you a drink at my apartment around the corner, or do you want to go next door?"
"Uh, we just met, I don't usually hang out at my friends houses until I've known them for at least a few months."

I am so thrown by the invitation back to his apartment. Is he seriously asking me back to his house? Like.. for a hook up? Am I being punked? I scan the restaurant with sudden suspicion.
 
"Well I live right across the hall from my sister, so girls usually like that! Plus we have this open door policy, so-"
"Wait, what?"
"An open door policy! You know, she can come in whenever. "

"You mean, she like... walks in on you? With dates?"
"Well, I mean, yeah, that's happened."
"Isn't that... awkward...?"
Long pause "Well, I mean... It can be. But my dates still usually really like it."

"Uh...." I stare blankly for a minute...Okay, so I am just going to go with this... "So, since you guys basically live together, do you ever just like... open your apartment doors and make like a big apartment together?"

"What do you mean?"
"You know, like just open your doors, and like, seal the doors open with tape. Close yourselves off from the world!" ....Like Flowers in the Attic.
"I don't get it."
"Hmmm." Maybe he isn't that witty.
"Bar next door?"
I glance at my phone. It is 9:43pm. I have been on this date since 9:04. If I left right then, it would totally feel like I was ditching the poor crying tumor guy. I mean, the snot hadn't even totally dried off of his face yet. He's clearly never going on another date in his life so, can I write this off on my taxes as a charity donation?  "Uhh, I guess." A mercy-drink if there ever was one. I picked up my purse and rolled my eyes as I followed him out the door.

Now the advantage to going to the horrible dive bar next door was a giant SPOTLIGHT highlighted this thing on his head the second we slid into a booth in the back. I could finally see what in the hell this thing was. STITCHES. He had flipping STITCHES going across the middle of his face. At least a dozen of them. WHAT THE HELL?

We got a couple more beers; I took a couple of sips and I went to the restroom. Sitting on the toilet, I collapse my head into my hands. Shit. There's no way I can drink any more of that beer I just ordered. I had left it unattended with the crier and if I was ever going to get roofied on a date this was for sure the one. Shit. I'll just pretend I'm drunk instead of actually getting drunk. As soon as I came back I slid into my seat and got ready to go hog wild.

"SO."
"So?"
"What exactly happened there?" I point to the stitches.
"I was wondering when you were going to bring that up."
"Why not just volunteer the information yourself? Isn't it more awkward not to?"
He shrugs. "I had a cyst drained. It was the size of a golf ball. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but they had to wrap my entire head in gauze the day I had it done. Wanna see?"
"UH, YEAH."

He busts out the photos. It looks like he had brain surgery. Nothing is visible except his mouth and his bug eyes.
"My friend took me out bar hopping afterwards. Just for the reaction. Best night of my life."

...Yeah I bet.

"Well, my cat needs his insulin shot." I am so loving my cat at this moment.
"Your what needs his what?"
"Oh did I not mention? Yeah I have like 3 pets. All are super high maintenance. The cat has to have that insulin shot right on time or he might die. So I have to get going."
"Oh. I was having such a good time though. I thought you might want to go to my apartment after this."
"Uh.... Well, the cat though."
"Oh. Well. Can I walk you to your car?"
"Oh, I am good, I am right there, thanks so much!"

Then I ran out of the bar, darted around like 5 other cars to make sure he didn't follow me, circled the block like 6 times to again make sure he wasn't tailing me, and then sped home and locked all of the doors. And windows.

So what's your best worst date story? Because this was pretty good for me. 

First Date Post-Break up with Jeremie

And here we are, out on dates again. Honestly this wasn't a place I thought I would be, but here I am. At the urging of Brian and Angie I got on Tinder (and every other app in the world) and matched with a few people. The first person I connected with at all was of course a lawyer. I can't help it. I'm an overly analytical, overly logical person and I am wildly attracted to lawyers and law students. They're my type. The problem with this one was I kept thinking he had gone to one law school in town, but... he had actually gone to the same school as Daniel. My mind was absolutely convinced he had gone to this other school, and so I wasn't worried about there being any kind of overlap. Until right before the date started when I looked at his profile one more time and realized, OH CRAP.

Not only did he go to the same school Daniel did, but he only graduated a year ahead of him. Which means, in a school that small, the chances are like, slim to none they don't know each other or know OF each other or at least have friends in common. Great.

I tried to just forget about it, but I couldn't help but drop some of my handy law school knowledge (specific to their school) into the conversation because, I HAD JUST SPENT THREE MONTHS HEARING ALL ABOUT IT. I actually liked the guy enough that I would have gone out with him again, and felt like we had a nice intellectual conversation that I enjoyed- as a friend or as something else, but I'm pretty sure I screwed it up with what ended up sounding like crazy elitist comments bragging about the school's rankings based on things Daniel had told me. Which is stupid.

Also, beautifully, my date went on to the neighboring town of Davis after our date- we actually closed down the brewery we talked so long- and went to hang out with a friend from law school. Which gave me this huge wave of paranoia about who exactly that person could be. Because the likelihood that that person was someone who was still in school was probably pretty darn high. Which means they probably know Daniel. Which means I wanted to throw up. I already felt awful enough going on the date at all, and somehow I had put myself in the law school cess pool. What on earth? I'M NOT EVEN IN LAW SCHOOL ANYMORE. My very nice date continued texting me even after he was hanging out with his friend, but after a couple hours started asking some pointed questions about the body art project I had done, which to me made me wonder, if just maybe he was comparing notes with someone. I just had this gut feeling he knew who I was. He never asked, but for our pleasant date and lengthy texts after, I never heard from him again.

So either he faked it well that night or something else was going on.

Either way... I'm totally not ready to date anyway so it doesn't really matter, but the whole thing felt incredibly embarrassing.

Reality of the Situation

It's been 5 1/2 weeks since things abruptly ended with Daniel. And I'm still feeling... Lost. Empty. Confused. Missing him. Like it was a mistake.

I'm also somewhat angry at him. This, I believe, was a stronger match than how he presented his last two relationships, and he pissed all over it. He ruined it by first, not taking care of himself and being truly ready for me, which was incredibly selfish on his part. One of his favorite quotes is about love serving others- one of my favorite concepts about love is meeting your partner with a servant's heart. You care not just about them, but for them. You take care of each other. You don't just think about yourself. You consider all parties. He didn't do this.

Beyond that, he was dishonest about his relationship history. When we talked about it, he mitigated it by saying he "pushed back the dates," but the truth is he just lied. The first lie, which was understandably rooted from self consciousness, embarrassment, or something similar (he said he liked me so much and just didn't know what to say), consequently led  to another, and another. While I absolutely  feel I got to know the spirit of him as a human, I missed huge chunks of his life experience by not knowing what he had been through not just that last year, but those last few months, and that deeply affected our relationship. Even him just hiding his photo albums on Facebook did that. That's your life buddy. You don't need to pretend it didn't happen! I want to know ALL of you!


Oddly, and I have no idea if he ever reflected on this, but we really rose above all of the baggage he kept dragging into our relationship. We worked hard-pretty naturally- and swam through it. We were good with each other. Even my stuff- I have pretty bad anxiety at times, and I fed off his depression and confusion like it was kindling. He clearly was a bit stressed by it at the end, but he also listened to me with an open heart when we talked about it, if I at least felt he did. I felt heard. I also felt like he was a good calming piece for me. We each have our challenges in life, anxiety has been one of mine the last couple years. I've worked hard to manage it and since I haven't always had it, I hope it'll die down with time and as life stressors reduce. He was a good support to me. I think he knew that; I hope he did. We were good partners.

Which again brings me back to question why he bailed. I never would have left. I would have worked with him through any array of shit to that point, as long as we did it as a team. Just don't shut me out. That was my one real deal breaker.


What prompted me to write today- tapping this out on my phone, on a blow up mattress in my teenage bedroom at my dad's house no less- is the awful thought I had today is this relationship that ended 51/2 weeks ago will soon be rendered meaningless. Probably first by him, and eventually by me too. Realistically speaking, we only dated a couple of months. I can argue three months, and I can honestly say we dated "all last fall," because that's true, but it was an incredibly brief period of time in comparison to the big picture of our lives. The intensity of our relationship is going to fade- especially if we are both working at it. We've wiped each other off social media (something I regret with every part of my being and it feels likes yet another loss) and there is no communication between us. My gut says the Sacramento area now holds bad memories for him, and like after his first serious relationship ended, he's going to move once school ends. And honestly, that's kind of where I am at as well. I'm so angry this is where we are at because it shouldn't have turned out like this. It's truly absurd. Even K and I are friends, but Daniel and I... He won't even speak to me. What did I do? I loved and supported him, and worried about his well being. I'm sorry that's wounding to you? What? I mean, I do understand. If he has anything remotely in the same ballpark of feelings for me like I do for him, then it would be upsetting to interact with me. And yet, we don't have to be apart, that's a choice you felt you had to make, so... Why are we separated if you have feelings for me? ... I'm being critical here, I know. And it's unfair. I know that too. But I miss him. I wish he was in my life. It's yet another loss. I've had so many of those...

Which leaves me with these cringe inducing thoughts. One day not long from now he'll be in a relationship with someone else (some bitchy ho) and he'll say, "Yeah, I went to X spot once, this girl I went on a couple dates with took me there I think. Don't really remember." And that'll be it.




This extremely meaningful, soulful, connected, most special relationship I ever had is going to be reduced to a big old nothing. Forgotten and faded away. Maybe that's why I like Ryan Adam's "Wildest Dreams" so much.