Gentleman Jack, you make relationship talks flow

In the past few weeks, NRA Guy and I slipped into a routine that was a bit too easy or comfortable or whatever you want to call it. We literally have done nothing outside the confines of the four walls of one of our respective domiciles. Since the comedy club adventure (which also included Roommate and therefore can’t be categorized as a real date), we’d mainly been spending time at his house.

He’d also stopped making plans with me in advance. I noticed he had no problem making plans with friends before the actual day of said plans, but I couldn’t get anything solid from him until the day we saw each other.

When I was in NRA’s presence, the setup didn’t bother me so much. It was when I left that I got perturbed. With this transition… and with other things.

Soon after the fight and the subsequent making up, NRA took up the habit of telling me “we aren’t together” whenever it suited his purposes. Every time he said it, I felt like he was punishing me for revoking his boyfriend title. It really started to get on my nerves.

I started asking myself and anyone else who would listen some questions (sorry, nice commuter lady, for burdening you as you tried to read your paper in peace and get off the Metro in one piece).

Why do we always have to hang out at his house? If we’re already being lazy and staying in most nights this early on, am I ever going to get him out of the house as the relationship progresses? Is the relationship progressing? Why, if “we aren’t together,” as he’s so quick to point out, does he expect me to be available at his convenience? Why, if we aren’t together, am I stuck not dating other people? (I know, I know. It could be argued that I did this to myself. Still, it sucks.)

I decided my first course of action was to not accept any more last minute plans. My thinking was that it’d take him a while to figure it out, but that I wouldn’t accept plans less than three days in advance. I put this into effect without telling him, making sure to make plans as the days passed to fill in any blank pages in my planner. (He can be very convincing; I didn’t want my will to crumble.)

In the meantime, while I was asking all those questions and making plenty of plans and getting pissed off at an unsuspecting NRA Guy, these other guys kept cropping up and telling me to ditch him. Guys I hadn’t talked to in weeks or months suddenly showed back up on the radar. And each one of them told me he was a better option than my current selection. Considering my mindset, it didn’t take much to make me think they might be right.

As tempting as some of their offers were, one of those pesky voices kept telling me I couldn’t do that to NRA. I’d told him I wasn’t seeing anyone else and wouldn’t be doing so. I felt I had to honor that.

A mere four days into my pledge not to accept last-minute plans, I buckled. He told me on a Wednesday that he was going out of town for a Boys’ Weekend. (See? Plans. In advance. Bastard.) We hadn’t seen each other all week, and we wouldn’t until the next week if we didn’t hang out the following night. I ended up going to his place (only with a promise that he’d make his way to mine for our next several encounters).

After consuming much whiskey, we went to bed. It was then I brought up the things that were bothering me. To the best of my whiskey-clouded recollection, this is what resulted.

- He agreed to make plans in advance, to do more date things, and to introduce me to some of his friends.

- He won’t throw out “we’re not in a relationship” anymore, and he claims he never did it to punish me.

- He half-heartedly promised he’d try to be more accommodating on the whose-house-tonight front. (“But, it’s just so much more convenient to hang out here… for me.” I know this one will continue to be a battle.)

- I will do my best not to make him feel like he’s still paying for his big, fat lie. I explained that my using the word “lie” isn’t always me trying to make him feel bad (it’s more his guilty conscience, but I didn’t point that out). I did point out that, even if we systematically avoid the subject, it’s going to come up. I didn’t contact the people at the Leno show to have Jay talk about lying husbands in his opening monologue just because NRA and I might randomly tune in. I didn’t tell the comedian at the club to do a spiel about lying boyfriends when we were in the audience. It’s a common theme. We’re going to encounter it. (He told me the other day that, after he shared his version of the NYE/fight story, his coworkers address him as “Liar” now. Fantastic!)

- He/we want the relationship to progress, although I’m not sure exactly what that means.

I don’t see this working out for a long-term thing. He’s still a liar. While he claims he’s honest with me, he’s definitely not shy about telling me of his lies to others. If he’s lying to them, he’s probably lying to me. Or he will be soon. (Actually, a couple small untruths have surfaced recently. None of them amounted to much except me wondering why in the hell someone would lie about such insignificant things. I’m certain time is the only thing that stands between me and another revelation of a whopper.)

Is it completely horrible to think of this whole thing as practice for a real relationship? A warm-up? A trial run? Well, even if it is horrible, that’s kind of what I’m doing. For the most part, I enjoy the time I spend with NRA; we have fun together. I do like the guy, despite all reason, and so I find it hard to justify ending things now when nothing major has happened. I can’t say I’m completely emotionally detached. If I were, I’d have no problem saying farewell without a solid reason. At the same time, I’m trying not to get too vested in the whole thing.

Get Your Running Shoes: The L-word and marriage talk already?!?!

This weekend, Belle hit the quarter-century mark. (Woo hoo!

NRA Guy wasn’t invited to the Big Birthday Shindig on Saturday, mainly because I didn’t want him to meet the friends before having a chance to redeem himself in some ways. (That I’ve still only met Best Buddy had more than a little to do with it, too.) Since he was out of the picture on the actual Big Day, he asked to take me and the roommate out Friday night.

When I asked him what I should wear, he told me I shouldn’t dress for a ball or for a baseball game. For most guys, this would’ve sufficiently narrowed options, and they would’ve been fine wearing any mid-tier wardrobe selection, no matter the destination. Being that I’m a girl, this didn’t help me all that much in choosing an outfit. Should I wear slacks or a skirt or jeans? Heels or no? Flashy or modest jewelry?

He wanted the plans to be a surprise, but I already had an idea (which later proved correct) about his intentions. We’d talked about going to a comedy club before, and I assumed that’s where he wanted to take us. In the interest of letting him have his surprise-Belle fun, I didn’t want to ask straight out if that was in the cards for the evening in the midst of our what-do-I-wear conversation. Instead, I asked if I could wear jeans.

NRA: You can wear jeans, but only because I love you.
(In the background, a record scratches to a stop.)
(Simultaneously)
NRA: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…
Belle: (Laughs hysterically)
NRA: no, no, no, no… I didn’t mean… no, no, no, no…
Belle: (Still laughing)
NRA: I… um, that’s not what I… no, no, no, no…
Belle: (… and still…)
NRA: No, I take it back. I just meant…
Belle: (Catching breath) I know what you meant...

The conversation continued for a few more minutes, with me erupting into fits of laughter several more times before we got off the phone. I asked if he was going to tell Best Buddy about his (Freudian?) slip, and he said absolutely not. I told him I was going to tell Roommate about it, and he freaked out, telling me I couldn’t. Of course, I did. Her initial reaction to my (admittedly provocative) revelation was to ask, “And you didn’t run far, far away?” Then I told her what actually happened.

I have to say, I’m glad he slipped up first. I tell almost all my friends I love them regularly (and I do love you guys!). My family and I end every phone conversation that way. We say it whenever we leave the house (the reasoning being, I’m sure, that if someone dies, the last thing you said will have been, “I love you,” and not something like, “I’m sick of you never taking out the trash. Just go!”). I say it all the time to Roommate. Sometimes, it just comes out when I’m talking to acquaintances (and, maybe on a few occasions, really cool strangers). That’s why I didn’t run when he said it. I know he didn’t mean it like that*, and it gives me a free pass for when I inevitably let the L-word slip.

The whole incident has actually proved rather entertaining. I’ve been giving him endless shit about The Slip since then. It makes him wriggle around uncomfortably, explain himself endlessly, and perhaps even blush a little. What fun for me.

Roommate decided to cook a birthday lovely dinner for me last night. NRA and a long-time friend came over to eat with us. (We’ll call her Ms. Potato, to keep things less confusing. And, no, that name doesn’t get an explanation here.) Several glasses of Spanish wine into our (semi) Spanish-themed evening, Ms. Potato started talking about someone she knows who is getting married. She asked NRA’s opinion of the suitor asking the father for his beloved’s hand in marriage. (Gag) NRA’s response was that he would absolutely have to ask the father for permission. He was so matter-of-fact about it.

I was just standing in the kitchen staring at him, thinking, “I’m dating this guy? Really?” Although my father would perhaps think it nice if someone were to ask him for my hand in marriage, I think the whole thing reeks of antiquated ideals of women as property.

My father hasn’t had a say in my life in at least seven years. More than that if you count that he never really dealt with me when I was living at home. He left the girl-child rearin’ to the women-folk while he took my brothers off to teach them hard work and hard play and make them into men misogynists or whatever the hell they were up to while I was helping clean the house and run errands and make dinner. (You know. Women’s work.)

My father and I have never been close, although things are admittedly better between us in the past two years. He has made an effort recently, and I’ve appreciated that. The strain and tension have dissipated, but that doesn’t make us close. I don’t belong to the guy. He can’t give anyone permission to do anything with me. (Not that NRA was talking specifically about me, but my mind is allowed to go that way. We are dating.)

Perhaps my mind will change. Fucking hormones. When I was very young (like, seven or eight), I remember saying I wouldn’t get married until I’d gone to college, gotten a job, and had my own home. I’d seen my married-at-18 mother fight long, constant battles to get everything (an education, cars, a home, clothes… you name it) after she and my dad divorced when she was nearly 30. I’d seen those same signs of dependence in my step-mom, who married my divorced-with-two-kids dad at 17. I vowed I’d never be the woman who couldn’t take care of herself because she depended on some man to do it and he let her down. Pretty heavy thinking for an 8-year-old.

Later, when I was a bit older, I started to hate the idea of marriage itself. The odds are against you, and I saw way too many fall apart around me. And, although I love children, I decided I didn’t want them for a multitude of reasons. I saw my parents go through things with each of my brothers that I don’t think I’d be able to handle as a parent. That alone could have been enough to make me never want to have kids if I hadn’t already made up my mind on the matter.

Where was I going with this?... Oh yeah, Fucking Hormones. Lately, I’ve noticed subtle changes in the way I think, both about marriage and about kids. I’m unwilling to outright admit that I might be open to the possibility of either (and, no, this has nothing to do with NRA directly. I’ve been suppressing/denying/battling this potential transition for a while now). But I can’t deny that I sometimes feel like it really might not be so bad to go down that route. It always creeps up on me when I’m not expecting it. I blame the hormones. Hormones do crazy things to otherwise sane people (not to claim that I’m sane or anything…).

So, perhaps if my hormones make me go (more?) crazy and I find some guy who’s tricky enough to get me to agree to marry him, I might actually think it a nice gesture that he asked my father for my hand. But I doubt it.

I asked NRA if it bothered him that we want such different things in life. He said he’s not worried about it right now, but I don’t really believe him. He’s already mentioned on a few occasions that I don’t want marriage or kids and he does (usually preceded by “and that’s another thing”). The other night, I was talking about my dream to live in different places every two years or so. While he conceded that it would be cool to get to know so many places like that (I agree; I hate tourist-y traveling), he wouldn’t be into it at all. (“You couldn’t start a career.” “Moving is hard and expensive.” “It’s hard to make new friends.” Etc. and whatnot.)

Meh.

* NRA told me on the phone yesterday that he wouldn’t say the L-word for real until we’d been dating at least a year. The Roommate and I have a bet on that one. If we stay together, neither of us thinks he’ll manage to hold out that long.

One More Time: Giving it a go with NRA

All right, all right. Perhaps I was hasty in saying it was over with NRA Guy. No, probably not really. I was certain it was over when I wrote that post. And, had he not contacted me until after the girl left, it really would have been over.

But he did contact me. The day after I got the pass and dropped off his stuff. And the next day. And the next. And even when we were having our really tense, unhappy conversations about the big fat fucking lie and the whole weekend/parking pass fiasco, I couldn’t bring myself to be really mean to him or do anything that would make him want to cut all ties forever. I’ve done it countless times before. It’s a safety measure I use because I know in moments of weakness or drunkenness or stupidity, I might just land back in some jerk’s arms. But, with him, I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want there to be no possibility of getting back together.

So we had a really, really long talk the other night in person. Overall, it was good.

He admitted the whole deal was pretty much his fault (with some lame attempts to put little, tiny things on me), but we agreed that everything snowballed out of control really quickly. He says he was trying to do the right thing by telling me about the lie, and I think he was. Everything after that can basically be chalked up to failure to communicate, drunken stupidity, and childishness.

He told me that after I ended the shortest relationship ever, he thought we couldn’t move forward. He’s only had bad experiences once anyone’s taken a step back in a relationship, so he was upset when I removed the title because it indicated the beginning of the end to him. He said part of him was ready to run right then.

He admits he has communication issues that reach even deeper than mine, but he’s working on saying what he thinks instead of leaving me to wonder and guess. (I tried to tell him it’s never in his favor when I’m coming up with the scenarios to explain behavior or situations. He'll almost always be better off telling me about it than leaving me to my own devices.)

He took issue with my vindictive little stabs when I gave his things back. I don't think I apologized. I thought they were particularly clever, and I was justifiably mad at the time. I found out he did some of his own stabbing, although in ways I never would've known about if we didn't get back together. (Aw... he cares.)

He's back to talking in future tense. I'm still resisting my nearly-overwhelming urge to run every time he mentions something like next New Year's, for instance. He called me his girlfriend a couple times, and I didn't hurl. But he knows the title isn't actually in place.

I didn't invite him to my birthday celebration tomorrow, explaining that it's not the best time for him to meet the friends. He needs time to redeem himself in everyone's eyes. Let's hope he can.

I'm trying really hard not to bring the whole thing up all the time, which is proving difficult. Whenever lying or fighting or anything comes up in a song or on T.V. or in our conversation, it causes a little moment of each of us wondering how we should address it, if at all.

He’s not perfect. I’m not perfect. Things aren’t perfect between us. But they’re better, for the moment, and it seems we’re going to see where this goes.

Star Wars Boy, Meet Belle’s Blog

Browsing through CL postings the other night, I found one that was entertaining from the start. Not far into it, I started to suspect that it was a Star Wars Boy posting. Nearing the end, I had no doubt it was his. (The attached photo confirmed my belief, even though I really didn’t need it to know.)

Rather than bust him out the next day about it, I decided to bide my time and see if I could work something out to get tickets to an event he mentioned in the ad, invite him, and call him out in person. (Lots of work, I know, but I thought it might be fun to see if I could make him squirm a little.) He squashed my hopes and dreams a couple days later by telling me about the ad himself. Damn him.

Anyhow, this conversation somehow led to me telling him about NRA Guy (not a very favorably synopsis, as I’m wont to tell the more interesting/consuming things, which tend to be more negative), which led to him asking for my “unfiltered” opinion of him. I hemmed, hawed, and tried to postpone, but he’s a persistent little buggar. So, ultimately, I sent him the link to the ol’ blog.

I must say, I didn’t expect the polite, adult conversation that followed. (Thanks, SWB!) Now, the part that leads to me (once again) kicking myself. I closed the window to our IM conversation without saving it, so I’m having to write this post from my hazy memory.

**SWB, forgive me any inaccuracies, and please comment in response if you feel so inclined. I’ll edit if necessary.**

SWB’s initial response after reading was that my assessment seemed pretty fair and accurate overall.

His next remark was to say the only thing he slapped his forehead over was the mussels incident. (“Where was my gum??”) And my remarks on the kissing. But, to be fair, the kissing, as he pointed out, started out well but worsened as he became overly eager. This is true. In my first SWB post, I labeled him a good kisser. I had to strikethrough when I got called out for contradicting myself in a later post.

His major beefs with the posts seemed to be twofold. I could argue with neither.

1. Most of the issues I had with him were fixable, if only I’d said something. Obviously, I didn’t.

2. I left out the oh-so-important fact that before we met, we discussed our specific dating/relationship styles and came to the conclusion that, in the past, I had often been the girl who ran away from guys who showed too much interest, and he had often been the guy showing too much interest from whom the girl ran. Because of this, we decided he’d play it cool, and I’d let him know if I was feeling the need to break and run. (Or something along those lines.) So, essentially, I asked for all that then decided I didn’t want it, but (again) neglected to tell him.

So, I must offer my sincere apologies for not being better at communicating.

Other random tidbits from the conversation included, but were not limited to, the following.

- SWB said perhaps he should get new bedding. I think my agreement on this point went without saying.

- He also said he enjoys the things I found a bit too adolescent (and, basically, that he hates the adult world, although I think he functions quite nicely within it, speaking overall). I think this is completely fair. One, because I enjoy many juvenile/immature things. And, two, because I wouldn’t want someone to completely change in the hopes of winning my favor. I also told him that it really wouldn’t have to be a permanent change… just a little at the beginning.

- He defended his decision to treat me somewhat “like one of the guys” (but he offered the disclaimer that he really hadn’t… he’d cleaned up some rough edges on my behalf… which makes me wonder…), saying that he’d gotten just as much grief in the past for not doing as much. Again, fair enough. I know I’m not the voice of every girl here. Just me.

- He said my friend and commenter with the geek-boyfriend experience was one smart lady.

- He pointed out that most of my friends/commenters basically took his side.

- He reminded me, correctly, that he only asked me to play Guitar Hero and dropped it when I resisted. I told him I’d still like to play sometime. Now that I don’t feel the need to impress him or keep from embarrassing myself, I’m sure it will be fun. J

- He suggested that some of the stuff with which I took issue might have been better (I can’t remember exactly what we were discussing here) if he hadn’t been so intent on, um, er… boinking me. (My choice of term, not his.) Suffice it to say the friends were influential in making this goal a high priority. (And, of course, you know, that he has a penis probably had a little to do with this particular goal.) I can’t really blame the guy’s friends for looking out for him. I know mine would’ve done the same (and you have! … Except my one little professional cock-blockin’ friend. ;-) Where are you when I need you??).

- He reiterated that the spark/connection (whatever you want to call it… he had another specific word that I’m loath to use) just wasn’t there. I agreed.

- He debated sending his friends the link (which worried me to no end, to be honest. If I’m to be his friend, there’s a possibility I’ll meet these people… and I don’t know if this would be the best forerunner to an introduction), but decided against it. As he said, “The only reason I didn't share it is because I figured they'd go ‘yep, sounds... basically accurate.’”

- After having heard a little about NRA Guy (who he pretty accurately described as “Bizzaro-SWB”… his exact, polar opposite), he wondered what in the heck made me choose NRA over him. I wondered that myself, considering SWB and I think much more alike about many more things.
I think part of it was the way NRA expressed his interest and treated me from the beginning. Another part of it is that, despite having vastly different political ideologies and upbringings (and pretty much everything else), I was comfortable with NRA almost immediately. I was never uncomfortable with SWB, per se, but there wasn’t an overall easiness about our interactions. I don’t want to say anything was forced because I don’t know if that’s it, exactly. But I often felt like I was letting him down or being unimpressive or… something I just can’t quantify right here right now.

The day after all this conversing, SWB sent me this link. Hey, shows how much I know, huh?

It's All Over: Goodbye NRA Guy

As promised, I made plans for every part of the weekend so NRA Guy couldn’t squeeze me in at his convenience and, let’s face it, so I’d be having plenty of fun if and when he did decide to call me. Unfortunately, my Friday night plans included a girl friend coming over and spending the night, and I didn’t think to get my parking pass from NRA when he left after spending the night earlier in the week.

Even though I really didn’t want to make first contact on the day the girl arrived in town, I texted him around 9:30 and told him I needed it back so my friend wouldn’t get towed. Below is how that played out (spelling errors, IM speak, and all).

Belle: Hey, my friend is here. I really need my parking pass so she doesn’t get towed.
NRA: I totally forgot im sorry.im wasted though
Belle: At home? We’ll come by. You can bring it out to me. Or if you aren’t home now, we’ll come by when you get there.

About an hour later, NRA called. First he asked if there was anywhere else my friend could park. The answer is no. Then he said he was at his house then but was about to leave for Best Buddy’s house. I asked if he was leaving immediately. He said in about 25 minutes. I asked if he could make it 35 so we could get to his house before he left. (If he had returned my last message without the hour delay, my friend and I would have already been back from picking up the pass.) He started with the, “It’s the girl’s first night in town and a bunch of people are waiting and they’re nearly ready to go and I don’t want to hold everyone up.” He was talking, but I was thinking, “lies, lies, lies.” I said fine, bitterly wished him a good night while directing every negative vibe I could muster his way, and hung up.

The following texts span the next couple hours.

NRA: Im sorry. ill give it to u tom. guess im a dissapointment
Belle: Over and over.
NRA: Alright, im sorry. u dont have to deal with me anymore

This, in my opinion, was the end. Note that he said it, not me.

Belle: Well, I do have to get my parking pass back.
NRA: Ill bring it to u tom
Belle: Great. You can put it through the mail slot. I’ll be out.
NRA: Ok

After this message, Belle gathered all the things NRA Guy had given her (including the fucking toothbrush he bought her but said she couldn’t leave at his house) so she could leave them outside for him to pick up if he actually delivered the pass as promised. She also deleted his number from her cell.

NRA: I didnt want things to end like this but I understand
Belle: Well, you’re the one who ended it. I have ideas, but I can’t say I understand.

Much later that night…

NRA: I didnt end anything. im just not willing to fight any more for 2^nd or 3^rd place
Belle: What?! Bullshit! You know you’re the only one I’ve been seeing. This is about you fucking up. Not me.
NRA: Ok
Belle: Yeah. Ok.

The next morning, after some encouragement from the roommate, I sent NRA the message below.

Belle: And really, since you blew me off any time your friends were around, I was the one competing for 2^nd or 3^rd place.

He never responded, of course. And, of course, he didn’t return the parking pass as he said he would. And, of course, the Roommate’s boy toy’s car was towed when he visited that night.

I informed NRA of the tow and told him I’d be over to pick up the pass. He returned my things, I returned his, and we said very little to one another. (He didn't even mention the towing.)

It can't get much more officially over than exchanging things with someone.

I predict one of two things will happen. The first option is that I’ll never hear from NRA again. The second is that he’ll wait a few weeks (or months), until the bowl games are over and/or the girl leaves, then he’ll get trashed one night and call me. I’ll keep you updated.*

Before all this went down, all of you, dear friends, were telling me I deserved better. That I should write him off and move on. I was holding out and trying to give him another shot. Part of me thought bringing back trust would be impossible. Part of me really wanted to see if he could make up for his bad, bad behavior (and, let’s face it, how he behaved with the girl there).

You were right. I was wrong. (See? I can admit such things.)

I’m thinking the next go-round might involve letting you guys decide who the worthy ones are. I seem to be terrible at making those kinds of choices. I’m rounding up a committee to weigh in on my dating decisions. So far, the membership is at three. I'd like perhaps a couple more voices, so if someone can't respond I'll still have a few opinions to work with.

If you have suggestions for how the committee should work or want to be included, send me an e-mail. I'll post more on this later.


* I got another text from NRA just before posting this. It said: "I don't want to fight, I just want to apologize for the way things happened, and wish u the best"
After conferring with several Committee members, I have decided the best course of action is no response. (I maintain my prediction that he'll contact me after bowl games, the girl's departure, and/or Valentine's Day. I think this text is the first step at smoothing things over so when he does contact me it will be easier to get back in my good graces.)

Attention: Your reward has officially been revoked

…Continued (from The Fight)

Okay, so I’d invited NRA Guy over for dinner the day after 'The Fight.’ He agreed immediately, then kinda-sorta tried to back out, then (correctly) figured out he’d better come or he’d be in more trouble. Then kinda-sorta left himself an 'out' window.

I spent most of the day wondering if he was going to blow me off and not liking the thought of it. (And realizing that my uneasy feeling probably indicated more feelings for him than I really wanted to admit.)

Anyway, he ended up showing up, and the Roommate’s boy toy came as well.

There was much ragging of NRA Guy throughout the meal, and much consumption of wine on the part of Belle throughout the evening. Due not in small part to his pouting about the teasing from all sides, I started to feel guilty about what he called “being mean” and ended up apologizing for a few little things and trying to reassure him that he was in decent standing. (This is relevant mainly because I later felt irate that he'd let me apologize at any point during this whole thing for anything, knowing what he knew already and what I'd find out soon enough.)

I asked him to sleep over, and, despite some initial hesitance, he agreed. Not long after we went to bed, he said he had something to tell me. Something that was going to upset me. (He really needs to work on leading into these kinds of things.)

The big, hoppin’ New Year’s Eve party he threw for 30-something of his closest friends and their friends? Yeah, that out-of-town shindig to which I wasn’t invited? Yeah, it wasn’t so much out of town as it was right here, in Our Nation’s Capital.

This little bit of information did not lead (amazingly, stupidly) to me kicking his lying ass out of my bed and out of my house. Nope, not so much.

We talked. I cried. I told him how shitty it made me feel that he just didn’t want me to be there when we were in the same fucking city. That compounded by the big fucking unnecessary lie… it made me sick. He said it was Best Buddy’s idea. Supposedly, Best Buddy said it’d lessen the blow of not inviting me if I didn’t know the party was going on in our backyard. If Best Buddy actually said this (We already know NRA’s the confirmed liar here. Why should I trust his claim?), he was right. When I thought the thing was out of town and had no idea there were lies involved, I wasn’t so much hurt as pissed about him not calling. I’m much better at dealing with pissed than I am at dealing with hurt. I can get pissed off at nearly anyone. (That little old lady with the walker taking up the usable portions of a narrow sidewalk on a busy street? Yeah, I occasionally get the urge to take her walker to her GTA-style.) But to hurt me? To hurt me means you matter in some way. To make me cry? You’ve joined the ranks of a slim, noteworthy few, NRA. And it isn’t at all a good thing.

NRA said the different location didn’t change anything. I said it changed everything. In D.C., I wouldn’t have been captive and dependent on him. If things went shitty, I could’ve vamped. I have options in D.C. that I wouldn’t have had out of town.

He said his last New Year’s went horribly wrong and blah, blah, blah. I said mine didn’t shape up so fucking hot this year, thanks to him, now did it?

And let’s not forget that the main issue here is the BIG FUCKING UNNECESSARY LIE he told.

I cried some more. I felt like shit. I did my best to make him feel like shit. He said he felt like shit. He said he was sorry about 217 times. I told him he’d have to make up for this somehow, and saying he was sorry wasn’t at all even remotely going to put a dent in the debt he’d incurred.

The waterworks dried up for a bit then opened right back up full-force when I started addressing my issues with trusting people in general. And how I have trouble doing it in the first place and then always seem to trust the wrong ones. (Exhibit A: NRA Guy)

Being way more sad than angry, it made me all the more painfully aware that this guy has only very recently succeeded in actually making me admit, even to myself, that I like him and has already gone and broken the sacred trust. I told him it was impossible for him to be trying for a relationship if he’s going to lie to me.

Then, somehow (and, oh, here is where I wish I had about two fewer glasses of wine and could remember exactly how this went down) we had the DTR. And the outcome of that conversation ended up being that he was calling me his girlfriend, and I was letting him.*

Things weren’t great, but I was really thinking all that time that I wasn’t ready for him to go just yet. When we went to sleep, I actually slept. It could’ve been the wine. It could’ve been that we were in my bed, but it’s not often I’ve encountered a guy I can comfortably sleep through the night with.

I woke up with a massive wine-induced headache and puffy eyes and a sorry-assed, lying boyfriend in my bed. As the day progressed and the remnants of my hangover disappeared, I analyzed the whole situation with a somewhat fuzzy but sober brain, consulted everyone available for consultation, and became completely aware that agreeing to be his girlfriend was a horrible idea no matter how you look at it.

I rewarded him for terrible behavior, and I ended up feeling like a complete schmuck. And rightly so. I am a complete schmuck. (Everyone say it together now…)

Anyhow, I took my frazzled, unhappy ass home and put it in bed right after work. NRA called and woke me about an hour later. I took the opportunity to end what perhaps might qualify as one of the shortest relationships of all time (We’re talking somewhere around 15 hours here, people. anyone know the Guiness record on this?).

Belle: I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be your girlfriend.
NRA: (pause) Okay.
Belle: You don't sound happy.
NRA: What did you expect me to do, jump for joy?
Belle: No... Do you want to know why I don’t think it’s a good idea?
NRA: Yes, I want to know why.
Belle: Because if I’m going to call you my boyfriend, I have to be able to trust you.
NRA: (sounding surprised) You don’t trust me?!

WTF?! As if he’s given me any reason whatsoever to trust him. Is there an alternate universe in which telling someone a huge fucking unnecessary lie elicits implicit trust?

Anyhow, he asked that I come over later. I declined the invitation. He had nothing planned, and he’s got making up to do. He doesn’t get the honor of my company for a less-than-thrilling night of channel surfing, watching him clean, and denying his requests for my services (which could be a post by itself, but I’m not in the mood to branch to that topic). He’s going to have to work to get back in my good graces. All that sweet, snazzy stuff he did at the beginning when he was trying to woo me away from other guys? Yeah, he better up the ante by about 1,000 percent.

After declining, I asked when we were going to see one another again. He started mumbling about the girl coming in tomorrow and everything depending on her arrival, etc. The rest of the weekend wasn’t mentioned. Fine. If that’s how he wants to play it, game on. Sounds to me like he’s working under one of two assumptions. One, he thinks that he can blow me off while she’s here and pick things up again when she’s gone (which was Fabric Softener Boy’s suggestion for him wanting so badly that I agree to be his girlfriend). Or, two, he thinks that I’m going to be available and willing to be squeezed in the cracks when his plans with other people allow. Neither is the case, whether he realizes it or not. I made sure to book the weekend solid after I finished my nap.

He sent me inane text messages several times later in the night rather than calling me back after ending our conversation. I responded to a couple, but then bored of it. Did I really want to hear about how lazy he was feeling? Obviously, no.

NRA Guy’s mission, should he desire to have a shot at getting back in Belle’s good graces, reaches well beyond doing damage control or kissing ass. He’s going to have to repair broken trust. And good luck to him. This Capricorn really doesn’t like to be crossed by the people she lets in her life.

* Earlier in the night, when talking about plans for my upcoming birthday, he said if the Bears and the whats-its do something or other with a ball, his dad was supposed to get him tickets to a game in Chicago on birthday weekend. He said he told his dad to get a ticket for me. Before the revelation, I told him we’d deal with his potential breaking of the birthday plans when and if it came to that. After the DTR, though, and in my first official act as his girlfriend, I told him he had no choice but to spend my birthday with me. I also laid out as many other rules/laws/mandates as I could think up on the spot. The next morning, I was perhaps still a little tipsy when I remembered this, but I have to admit being somewhat excited about having the upper hand going into this.

The Fight: NRA Guy might have all the guns, but I'm holding the ammo

So NRA Guy called the other night, and, through a short series of random little innocent mini-topics, he picked up on my unhappiness with him. He wanted to talk about it on the phone, but I told him I’d rather come over (so as to avoid the possibility of anything getting blown out of proportion).

How about I break down the conversation about New Year’s for you?

- Some of his friends apparently bitched him out all the way to their destination because he hadn’t invited me. (Yay for these friends I haven’t even met!)

- He knew I was upset when we talked New Year's Day, so he got off the phone as quickly as possible. (Boo.)

- I mainly focused on my displeasure that he didn’t call. I laid out my argument that we’d been together or in contact daily for the past couple weeks (mostly his doing), and this sudden change in behavior on New Year’s was not something that made me happy.

- After much demanding on my part, he countered that I was the one dating other people and who had kept him at a distance.

- I counter-countered(??) that he knew I was no longer seeing anyone else and that the daily face and/or phone time meant, basically, “What distance?”

- He said he didn’t think he was ready for me to see him at his craziest and drunkest with all his friends.

- I concurred that I probably wasn’t.

- I agreed that, although I was slightly affected by the lack of invitation, I was more inclined to think that the setting wasn’t right for me to meet all his friends and see him at his drunkest and him see me at my drunkest (and to be captive there and dependent on him for a ride home, which, actually, I didn’t mention but which definitely factor into the equation).

- Best Buddy (the one I met) apparently ran interference all night. Any time NRA talked to a girl, Best Buddy came up to say, “You know NRA has a girlfriend now, don’t you?” (Yay, Best Buddy! … Even though I take issue with the ‘girlfriend’ label without having the DTR, this pleased me.)

- He apologized for not calling, eventually, after a great deal of offering lame non-excuses and much insisting that I couldn’t be “that mad,” since I’m not his girlfriend.

- I let him know that I considered myself “appropriately miffed” at the situation. I came to his house to talk about it; he would’ve had to track me down to ever talk to me again if I was his girlfriend and he blew me off on New Year’s Eve. I wasn’t yelling or being irrational or mean or accusatory; although he kept saying, “Nothing happened, I promise,” I repeatedly informed him that I wasn’t concerned that he’d been with another woman.

And, finally, after I felt we’d talked through it all enough and he’d groveled enough, I told him I accepted his apology and that he needn’t keep telling me he was sorry. We dropped it, moved on, and got comfortably cuddly.

And that, friends, is what led to the actual fight.

The short version is that his knee was obviously hurt, and when I asked him about it, he denied anything was wrong. Repeatedly. For an extended period of time. When he finally admitted the knee was hurt, I was reminded that he “can’t remember” what he told Best Buddy regarding how we met. I told him that if he lies to Best Buddy, I have to assume he’ll lie to anyone. This is a guy he talks to four or five times a day. They know damn-near everything about one another. But NRA lies to him about how we met? What’s to say he isn’t lying to me about things?

NRA was very quiet during all of this bitching on my part. He refused to offer anything to this portion of the conversation. He just kept trying every once in a while to distract me in some way. Finally he said he wouldn’t lie to me. That he doesn’t lie to me. I was too exhausted to keep it up at that point, so I let it go, telling him not to fucking lie to me. Ever. I hate lies.

We left on decent, if somewhat tense, terms. I invited him to dinner the next night, partially because the Roommate suggested it and partially because I felt bad for bitching him out all night.

Yeah, that’s right, I felt bad. I’m a freakin’ sap, apparently*.

To be continued…

* If you don’t agree that I'm a sap at this point, you will after the next entry. Of that, you can be certain.

Who knew? "Breakin' up" ain't hard to do

Tuesday morning, I got to work and Star Wars Boy initiated an instant message. I cut out all the inane talk that preceded and followed this little exchange. Other than names (as always), nothing has been changed with the exception of ordering a few responses to make the conversation flow a bit better toward the end. Enjoy.

SWB: OMG! GH2 arrived today! with the second guitar controller!
Belle: !!!!
Belle: YAY
SWB: I'm quite excited.
Belle: I bet.
Belle: and we know where to find SWB for the next...
Belle: how long do you think?
SWB: *shrug*
SWB: I mean, it's the same place as I would be, regardless
SWB: in front of my beloved screens.
Belle: lol
Belle: ... beloved screens...
Belle: no one can compete with that, really

SWB promptly goes idle.
SWB returns a bit later.

SWB: http://www.suntimes.com/news/metro/194254,triv010207.article
Belle: I like how they reported that she was the yellow piece.
Belle: and it's a serious warning... if you suck at Trivial Pursuit, you could end up hospitalized.
SWB: hey, enquiring minds...

Belle, egged on by the Roommate, plunges forward with indirect-but-quickly-becoming-direct attack.

Belle: btw, nice change of subject there...
SWB: that was a subject?
SWB: I was expected to comment on that?
SWB: are you feeling threatened by my affection for my screens, is that what we're dealing with here?
SWB: seriously?
Belle: threatened? no...
SWB: half-amused, half-embarrassed-for-me?
Belle: heh. perhaps like partially amused, partially wondering how you plan to get to know someone when you'd rather be at home utilizing those beloved screens than doing anything else.
SWB: yyyyyeah. certainly a question for which I've yet to find a good answer.
Belle: well, perhaps you have a couple options...
Belle: one being that you find someone who's just as in love with your beloved screens
Belle: and two..

…after a long pause…

Belle: eh, nevermind
SWB: awwww
SWB: I totally thought you were laying out a plan for me there
SWB: or throwing down a gauntlet
SWB: or something
Belle: perhaps I was throwing down a gauntlet or laying down a plan
Belle: but then perhaps I chickened out because you got all quiet.
SWB: hrm. am I correct in interpreting this as an expression of dissatisfaction with me, or is this more of a light-hearted lark? (sorry for my difficulties parsing...)
Belle: parsing?
Belle: meh
Belle: Let's see. I'm not actively dissatisfied or anything (if that makes sense)...
Belle: and I do realize you have actually left your beloved screens on a few occasions to spend time with me...
Belle: but, I dunno
SWB: parse = transitive verb
1 a : to resolve (as a sentence) into component parts of speech and describe them grammatically
b : to describe grammatically by stating the part of speech and explaining the inflection and syntactical relationships
2 : to examine in a minute way : analyze critically
Belle: lol. thanks
SWB: not to interrupt a very heavy ellipsis
SWB: you were at "but...."
SWB: actually, you weren't.
SWB: you were at "but, I dunno"
SWB: and there was no ellipsis
SWB: but, boy howdy, do I digress
Belle: lol
Belle: I'm getting there!
Belle: just, you know, this whole dating thing isn't all supposed to be easy. Meaning, I suppose, that, initially at least, one probably has to step a little out of a comfort zone (especially if that comfort zone happens to be your living room, unless, of course, the person in question is already just as comfortable in your living room as you)
Belle: and then perhaps later when everyone's a bit more comfortable, you can slip back into worshipping your beloved screens all the time

Still conferring with the Roommate, I used the VERY lengthy pause here to copy and paste all the bits of the conversation with SWB right on over to her window. She egged me on more, begging that I move on to lecturing about Star Wars blankets and kissing styles and a litany of other issues we’ve discussed at length. Then, finally, I received this beauty...

SWB: rrrrriiiight. and so... well... while I'm not sure I understand your meaning, I'm going to go ahead and take this opportunity here while we're talking about, um, 'us', I guess, to be honest with you - I was actually planning on waiting until I see you again, since I think it's probably a poor reflection on me to have this conversation on IM, especially at work, but, essentially, after having (I guess) 'dated' you for a bit now, two monthsish, I'm convinced that though I'm very fond of you and like you a lot, I don't/won't "love" you in the romantic sense - which I hope doesn't leave you feeling totally pissed off at me, I really don't know what else to say about it, except that I think I've been in love before, at least enough to know what it feels like, and it always happened pretty damn fast, and I don't think it's happening here, and... so then to continue on trying to make it happen seems sort of like a waste of both our time.... which is not to say I hold any grudges or anything, like I said, I like you a lot, I think you're cool, I just... don't think we should continue 'dating', as it were...

Oh my. Did he just... Whoa. Yay! I don't have to tell him anything! But, wait, boo. I was totally going to give him this talk (minus all the love stuff, ick) next time I saw him. That's so not fair. But, wait! This is much easier! Yay again!

Belle: cool. No offense taken. I wasn't really feeling it either. And I'll leave it up to you if you'd like to still be friends, 'cause I'd potentially be up for that, since, aside from the making out, that's kind of what we had going here anyway. but, if not, I'm cool with that, too.
SWB: yeah now I feel really guilty for having this conversation here.
Belle: no, you really shouldn't
SWB: but yeah, it'll be basically the same, except I'll see you much less, and we won't hold hands. or probably make out.
Belle: probably? hehe.
SWB: but we'll talk on IM still!
Belle: good. You entertain me. When you're on your game, that is
SWB: heh.
SWB: yeah I'm pretty hit or miss.
SWB: and one day you'll give me my books back.
Belle: Yeah, well you had to loan me the epic-length one, so... it's gonna be a while
SWB: this is actually how I kinda knew.
Belle: what is actually how you kinda knew?
Belle: IM?
SWB: no, that I'm hit or miss with you.
SWB: I treat you like a friend more than a girlfriend.
Belle: actually, I've said the exact same thing
SWB: what, that I treat you more like a friend than a girlfriend?
Belle: And, I feel it's my duty to say, that while it was totally fine for this to happen with me on IM, I'm in no way okaying it for use ever in the future 'cause it would probably be the worst thing ever to do to any other girl
Belle: and, yes, more like a friend than someone you're dating
SWB: yeah I really was trying to wait and do it in person but... I just saw that opening and... well... here we are.
Belle: actually, it's good. After the last time we hung out... yeah...
Belle: basically we just saved lots of awkward face time with lots of trying not to hurt anyone's feelings.
Belle: Again though, this is like never, ever, ever going to be okay with any other girl.
Belle: (And I'm not saying that to actually mean it's not okay with me.)
SWB: holy shit! did we actually just arrive at a mutually agreeable 'break-up'?
Belle: haha. You can't break up with someone you aren't officially, exclusively dating, can you?
SWB: hence the quotes
Belle: hehe
SWB: funny that this was our only real 'us' talk
Belle: the only necessary one though, no?
SWB: definitely.
Belle: and you totally owe me stories from the sex show
Belle: now that we're just friends, you have no excuse.
SWB: and you owe me two books
Belle: you'll get your books, dammit!
Belle: I'm no thief
SWB: hehehehe

Happy 2007: From what I've seen, the year's going to be interesting

Let’s see… Friday night I went to NRA’s place, and we hung out with his Best Buddy. Bonus points to the guy for having cool friends (well, at least the one).

The night centered on drinking (Belle, meet Beer Pong) and getting some things ready for their New Year’s Eve plans. Turns out NRA and his friends rented a suite out of town. Part of me wants to say that not inviting me really spared me the potential uncomfortable situation of being the new girl amongst longtime friends held captive for a night of drunken festivities. Another part of me finds it unacceptable that NRA didn’t even throw me a pity invite to this shindig, considering it’s a relatively short distance away and would be a good way to introduce me to all the friends he’s always telling me about and saying he wants me to meet. (And the guy had me working on decorations for his freakin’ party to which I was not invited!?! What the fuck?)

As for the girl, she was apparently supposed to be in the plans for New Year’s, but supposedly was sick and not coming until after the New Year’s festivities. However, there was no confirmation of this development before NRA dropped off the radar. Best Buddy said I have nothing to worry about with this girl, but the whole thing smells fishy to me. Why didn’t NRA tell me sooner she was coming? Is she the reason he looked at me, with absolutely no warning, and told me I couldn’t leave my toothbrush at his place? (As if I would’ve tried, Ass. I’m still pissed about this one.) Why did a guy who is so hell-bent on securing my company for everything else just avoid the subject of New Year’s Eve altogether? If there was nothing to hide, why didn’t he tell me about the plans sooner?

After inviting NRA over on New Year’s Eve-eve, I’ve heard nothing from him. He was supposed to call when he got home about an hour after we spoke that night, but he didn’t. No call all day on New Year’s Eve. Not even a text at midnight to wish me a Happy New Year. I have to say, I’m not feeling so appreciated and desired as I did just a few short days ago.

Perhaps I’m arrogant to assume he’d be thinking of me at the beginning of the New Year, and perhaps it’s selfish to expect some kind of indication that as much was true. But really, I think not. I certainly was thinking of him and wanting to hear his voice or see some kind of reciprocation of the feeling. So far, I’ve got nothing.

I mean, c’mon people, this is one of those nights you want the person you care about next to you. And, barring that, you certainly want her/him to know that you wish you were together. But it’s halfway through the first day of 2007, and I’ve got nothing from him.

So now I wonder. Did the girl come after all? Is he with her now? Was he last night? I’ve got no answers, and it’s making me feel more than a little insane.

I practically woke up plotting about how to exact revenge. This whole time I’ve been thinking, “I don’t want to be That Girl.” You know That Girl. She’s the one who keeps her guy on a short, tight leash. She gets mad about the smallest things. She won’t have things any way but her way. She has him constantly looking over his shoulder, always seeking her approval.

This morning I decided guys turn girls into That Girl by being stupid fuckups who run off to hotel suites with other girls and don’t talk you for more than a day for the first time in weeks while you sit around thinking how you could’ve, should’ve, would’ve found some other, more worthy guy to spend New Year’s Eve with if you knew this ass was going to leave you hanging. And then you start planning to give only the vaguest and raciest details of your evening with friends. Details that could be interpreted in ways other than “a group of friends at a ball.” And then you start planning to say you’re busy the next few times he asks you out, but you can’t decide if you should really busy yourself with other guys or if you should wait and give this one a chance to redeem himself.

Sigh.

Happy 2007, everyone.

Oh, as a side note (Or an end note?), I believe I was much drunker last night than I thought myself. I have vague recollections of my time at home after my friends dropped me off, but I saw one of my journals on my bed this morning and was surprised when I read last night’s entry. Apparently I called the New Yorker. Repeatedly. He didn’t answer, but this idiotic drunken bitch I know named Belle left him a voicemail. Fuck.