Baggage: part two

Baggage. We all have it. Some just have more of it than others…

Since college, nearly every serious boyfriend I’ve had has come with a cargo carrier of luggage, which ultimately has affected our relationship. At some point in time, I've fallen for men who have had drug abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abandonment, twisted family trees, cheating partners and serial dating issues. In short, I've managed to date just about every unavailable man I've ever met.

I thought my pattern of dating unavailable men was turning around when I started dating Ex-Boyfriend. Sure, he was resistant to change and unable to communicate. He'd previously been in a really toxic relationship, which I always felt kind of hardened him and made it hard for him to open up. But all in all, he was fairly normal.

On the outside, so it the guy I just met. We've only been on two dates, but the chemistry is amazing. He’s sweet. He’s funny. He’s smart. He's romantic. He's expressive. He’s MUCH more romantic than ANY guy I've ever dated - he wants to hold my hand, he calls when he says he will. 

So what's the baggage? 

He has one son with one woman, and a pending divorce with the mother of his second child. Yes, you read that correctly. He has a wife and a baby mama.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve never given a lot of thought to dating someone who already has children. I truly believe that your child is your child, regardless of whether s/he is genetically related to you. While the idea of dating a single parent is a little nerve-wracking, it’s not a barrier to a future relationship.

A wife is, though.

I mean, they've only been separated for eight months, so it's not even final, yet. Yes, he assures me that it’s over for him and the process is down to just technicalities. He was honest enough to tell me this on our first date, giving me plenty of time to back up and run for the hills. He offered not to call me again until his divorce is final. I admire that he was so forthright; it speaks volumes of his character.

But it still freaks me the fuck out.

Just having that connection with someone so immediately is discombobulating enough –- I'm notoriously self-destructive when a relationship is "good" -- but throw in the rest and, well, you can see why I have such serious reservations. I’m left with more questions than answers. Questions like:

• Do I just go with the flow and pursue things now? 
• Should I wait until the ink has dried on the divorce decree before progressing with the relationship? 
• Is he playing me, telling me about all this crap up front because he wants me to fall for his "honesty" when he's really just trying to get in my pants?
• Is chemistry the same thing as a connection -- or are my hormones just out of control?
• Is it even worth pursuing... or is this just too much baggage to sign up for?

We all have baggage. Some just have more of it than others. At this point in my life, though, I'm wondering if I'll ever find the person whose baggage goes with mine. 

Baggage: part one

Warning: sensitive topic ahead.

I have a real problem with the fact that Ben Roethlisberger wasn’t charged with sexual assault in the case a college-aged woman in Georgia brought against the football superstar.

The attorneys for the woman said the intense media spotlight aimed at her during a high-profile criminal trial “would be a very intrusive experience” for her. It’s likely she’s right.

It’s an unfortunate situation, but not all that uncommon. It’s estimated that 60 percent of sexual crimes go unreported every year. SIXTY PERCENT.

Why?

Rape and sexual assault are intensely personal, private crimes. They are embarrassing. They are shameful. At least, that’s what victims of sexual crimes believe.

I know this, because I’m one of the statistics.

When I was 17, a friend and I went out with a guy she’d met and his older cousin. We had a few beers. We each started kissing our respective partner. And then…. He tried to have sex with me. I said, “no.” He tried again… there was a little penetration. Panic.  I said, “no” again, this time more forcefully. I pushed against him… he was so much heavier than me! More panic, a flurry of activity. He moved away. Relief.

I’ll never forget his next words to me. They were, “ You’re such a fucking tease.”

I didn’t consider myself a tease for being 17, a virgin and than a little freaked out that a simple make out session was becoming something I was less than comfortable with. I mean, it was my right to say, “no,” right? That’s what they had always told us in school, in sex ed. It’s what my parents had always said.

And yet, I felt like it was my fault. I replayed the evening over and over in my mind. Had I been too flirtatious? Had I given him the wrong impression about where the evening would lead?

Even though we didn’t *technically* have sex I felt violated. I felt ashamed. I was brought up Catholic, was taught that my virginity was a gift and that sex was best saved for marriage. That was something I believed in and had wanted to maintain. Now, I was left with the overwhelming thought, “I am damaged goods. Who will ever want me?”

I didn’t feel that I could go to my parents, because the depth of their disappointment in me would have been too much to bear. And I didn’t feel I could go to the police, because they would involve my parents. Instead, I told my friend, who agreed we’d never see those boys again.

And that was it.

Like any number of women who have felt they were the victim of a sexual assault, I understand the fear and the panic that accompany the scrutiny. I was too frightened to do anything about it.

I also know the long-term effects of a sexual crime. I felt that I was damaged goods. I didn’t think a “good” man would ever want me. So I acted out… big time. I was extremely promiscuous in college. I never wanted to hear, “you’re a tease,” ever again… it was just so much easier to numb myself from the waist down, disconnect from my body and “Just Do It.”

I can’t help but wonder how my life would have been different had I just come clean to my parents. Looking back, they would have been disappointed that I’d gotten myself into the situation, yes, but they wouldn’t have stopped loving me. They would have done everything in their power to make me feel safe and whole. They would have gotten me the therapy that I sought myself many years later. Perhaps I would have regained that sense of self-worth, dignity and respect that I felt I’d lost. Perhaps I wouldn’t have slutted it up in college, which led to even more self-disappointment and regret.

It’s silly to look back at what could or should have been. I can’t change the past.

But I can (hopefully) change the way people think about the victims of sexual crimes. My experience wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been, didn’t nearly reach the same levels that many women have experienced. No two situations are the same. No two women are the same.

However, there is one commonality between me every victim of a sexual crime, one that’s worth keeping in mind: no matter what we've done, we’re someone’s daughter. 

Instead of...

Instead of sending me a text message, pick up the phone and give me a call. Instead of suggesting we "hang out," take me on a date. And instead of ignoring me for two weeks because you're freaked out about intimacy and the idea that we might one day be in a relationship, get over yourself and man up.

That is all.

Bad Romance

"The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in." -- Morrie Schwartz (subject of the book Tuesdays with Morrie.)

I've been giving a lot of thought to relationships lately; what makes them tick, what makes them work, what contributes to their failure. The fact that I’m dating again (and is my ex… or so I suspect...) has led to a great deal of introspection. I've been poring over old journal entries I wrote before, during and after my last relationship, in an effort to clarify what worked, and what didn't. An exercise in self-defeat, perhaps, but a useful one nonetheless.

On paper, my ex-boyfriend is what I’ve always looked for. He is easily one of the most intelligent people I know. He is equal parts nice guy and quiet rebel. He’s funny, both in the “ha ha” kind of way and in the sharp, witty way that I so deeply appreciate. He can make me laugh with as small a gesture as a raised eyebrow. I can have a conversation with him for hours, never get bored and always learn something. He is equally interested in music, sports, art, books and film – all of which he can speak about with both intelligence and passion.

In short, he is a beautifully complex and interesting man, multi-faceted, and faaaaaar from average. (And the last thing I'd ever want is someone average; average often equals boring.) Throw in a big dash of chemistry -- I swear, sometimes he’d give me that look and my breath would literally freeze in my lungs -- and you have the makings for a pretty great relationship.

So if he was so great and everything I always wanted to find, why didn’t it work out?

Well see, that's the tricky part. It wasn't the difference in our religious and political affiliations. It wasn't our in ability to communicate with one another. No, if I’m really being honest, the hardest part of being with him was the way it made me feel about myself. I sometimes felt so small and insignificant. There were times when I felt crushing insecurity. That’s now how people in healthy relationships are supposed to feel.

Every time he did something to make me feel that way (like not wanting to say, “I love you,” or not returning an email or text in which I asked him to do something…), it was a damaging blow not just to our relationship, but to my self-esteem. In fact, I once wrote in my journal, “I don’t like fighting with him. I just want things to be easy. But I can’t lose pieces of myself to him, either. I’m afraid that’s what’s happening every time I let something slide.”

Those little insidious betrayals of our relationship made me feel insecure, they made me feel weak. But instead of trying to fix things, I rationalized. I rationalized all the time. Things would always get better, so I ignored the insecurity and the feeling that I was unimportant or wasn’t worth the effort to him. It was easier to just ignore it than to argue.

Besides, anytime I brought up something he didn’t want to hear, he’d get in one of his moods, and I just didn’t have the energy to deal with his moodiness any more frequently than I already was. (He even said after we broke up, “You got more patient with me and I got less patient with you.”) And I loved him so much… I didn’t want the walls I so frequently erect to get in the way and damage our relationship. Instead, I went in the opposite direction. I was too vulnerable.

That was the fatal flaw in our relationship. I wanted so badly for things to work out that I was willing to trade off occasionally feeling worthless and insignificant and unimportant, just to keep the peace and keep the relationship intact. That is a “me” problem, not a “him” problem.

I guess that’s what has been the hardest part of the break up and my dive into the dating pool. It’s tough to admit that even after I talked to him about what was important to me and how I wanted to be treated, I didn’t respect myself enough to walk away when he couldn’t give me what I needed.

That’s what I’ve been struggling with lately. It worries me that if I find another guy who seems worth my time, I’ll make dozens of tiny concessions and lose pieces of myself to him. And when it doesn’t work out, I’ll be left with nothing but regret and heartache… and so will he.

So how does one suss out whether someone is going to treat them right in the long run, not just while we’re starting out? How can I be open and vulnerable to falling back in love, but still be strong and demand a certain level of respect? And when do standards go from being status quo to abnormally and impossibly high?

And am I in danger of erecting more walls because I can’t figure this out and I never, ever again want to think I’m going to marry someone just to have the relationship fall apart?

What I've been up to

Here's a little update about what I've been up to in the last few months:

July 2009: Broke up with Boyfriend

August 2009: Nothing of note

September 2009: Got a promotion

October 2009: Realized I was moving on, freaked out, cried (another story for another time...)

November 2009: Kissed another boy

December 2009: Realized I was no longer in love; subsequently kissed multiple other boys

January 2009: Started dating again

February 2009: Started blogging again

I'll post some deeper thoughts and a better update soon, but right now I'm exhausted by the pace I've been keeping. I have a new lease on life and new energy in my personal life that is exciting and fun.

I also have a great idea for an idea that combines dating, blogging and social networking. I'm working out the details for this top-secret plan, and will share it as soon as it's fully formulated. Stay tuned...

The more things change

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I went back and read my last post, in which I waxed poetic about my relationship and expressed the hope that someone truly in love feels at that point of recognition that their life has been forever changed by one person.

But things have turned south lately. We're not communicating with one another well. We're not talking as much. He had a party for the Fourth of July and didn't invite me.

Yeah, kind of a dick move if you ask me.

His general thoughtlessness and selfishness started to creep through. There were more mood swings. Fewer thoughtful gestures. Less sex. (Truly a measure of the health of a relationship, wouldn't you say?)

The more I started to see these things, the more denial I felt. I held on harder, tighter and tried to keep things from falling apart around me. But the fact of the matter is, we're wrong for each other. My heart just needed time to catch up to that fact, a fact that I recognized a long time ago and rarely voiced aloud.

Today marked the end of the relationship. We were together a year. We did a good job. We had some laughs, some good times. But the relationship ran its course, and we both acknowledged that today. He isn't capable of giving me what I need, and even if he were, he wouldn't want to. That's not fair to me, so it was time for us to go our separate ways. If we're not moving forward, what are we doing?

I feel relieved.

It still hurts, of course. I'm sad, as I suppose I'll be for a long time. It will take time to heal my broken heart, for as Pablo Neruda said, "Loving is so short, forgetting is so long." But in the end, I will be healed. I'll be revived. And I'll be ready for someone better.

Three small words

Barback Boy -- henceforth referred to as "The Boyfriend -- told me that he loves me over the weekend.

I have to admit, I kinda already knew... or at least, I suspected. We've been on the same page consistently throughout our relationship, and I've been feeling that lovin' feelin' for a little while now.



But more so than the words, The Boyfriend finds little ways to show or tell me every day. It's a text message first thing in the morning or a kiss on the forehead when I leave. It's buying me a bright pink toothbrush for use when he "kidnaps" me for weekends at his house. It's stocking Coke in the fridge and opening doors and making me breakfast in bed and doing the dishes without complaining and showing up unexpectedly with a bottle of wine and the fancy-schmancy corkscrew I've been eyeing.

Now that I know how he really feels, though, those every day moments are becoming all that more precious. Those moments that we have together take on a whole new meaning, especially between two people who don't want to bust out "I love you," all the time for fear of the phrase losing its intensity.