But these lovelorn tongue-lashings rarely get the desired response. That first email - the one that represented my move from depression to anger in the grief cycle was only four days after Berlin left. After I sent it I was thinking. Ha! Only four days and I'm already pissed off. I should be over him by next week. If only it were so simple.When he didn't respond I was even more angry, and hurt. I kept checking his facebook page to see if he was communicating with anyone else. Nothing. I wondered if he even had internet. That would be so typical of him. That woman he was with was useless. She had been living there for months, and from his description of her (what little I got) she was the sort who couldn't do a thing for herself.
He bought a car when she moved here from Germany so that she wouldn't have to drive his old Mercedes in the winter. It was a used car - but sensible and safe. The old Subaru Outback that I met him in that first night was the car he bought with the money he got when he sold his house in the artsy east-side suburb of our fair city and moved to the "up-and-coming" neighborhood where he now lived. I found this out one day when I was helping him pack up and move his things and he told me someone was coming over to look at his car.
"But what are you going to without a car until you leave?" I asked.
"Oh, not the subaru. My other car."
"Other car?"
"I'll show you."
And sure enough, parked outside in his driveway was a cute little red Mercedes. One of those old ones, with a slightly fading paint job. Well-used, weather-worn, and quite cool. It was just his style. I liked it.
"You wanna buy it?""Um. No. I already have a car, remember?"
Actually I would have loved to buy it. It was just the sort of car I would have loved to buy - and it would have been practical too -- at least from an economical standpoint. I had a new car. I leased it the year before when it got too cold to ride my vespa scooter - which is the only transportaion I had since I moved here the prior spring. I rode that vespa back and forth to work - and through sort of a rough neighborhood I might add - from June until it actually began to snow in November. And when I couldn't take the cold I finally decided it was time to get a car - and that's when I got the Subaru.
From a financial standpoint it would have been better to buy a used car, but I didn't have a lot of money, and I didn't have a lot of time. I was working 12+ hour days on a regular basis, and every day it was getting colder. I needed to make a decision fast. I was also a little bit nervous about doing used car shopping by myself. I don't know why. It's not rocket science. But I was new in town. I didn't have a mechanic I trusted. I was terrified I'd buy a lemon and be out my hard-earned cash, and my husband had been zero help. He didn't really want me to buy my own car. He thought we could continue to share our one car, as we had done since we bought it in 2001. But I needed my freedom. I needed to have my own transportation. I needed to be able to put a suitcase in the trunk and drive away any time I pleased. He said money was the the reason he wanted me to wait, but I think he always knew that a car would give me the freedom to leave him, as I eventually did.
But that's not the only reason I was hesitant about this purchase. When it comes to making big decisions my husband freezes up - and over the years we had been together, the effects of his stagnation had begun to rub off on me. I had gotten to the point that I was afraid to do big things alone. I second-guessed my decisions. Decisions, that looking back, I would have easily made alone before I met him.
So when it came to getting myself a car, I knew I had to do it on my own, and it was a liberating step I was taking in doing it. I knew it, even then. All the more reason I had to get this right. If I did fuck it it up, get screwed with some junker, the man I was married to was never going to let me hear the end of it. Going into a dealership and getting financing was simply easier. I knew what I was getting, and I knew the car would be dependable.
So I got the subaru - with the four wheel drive so that in our notorious Midwestern winters I would drive safely in the snow - and I'll tell ya - I wasn't the least bit disappointed. That thing drives like magic in the snow. Money well spent. That's for damn sure.
"I don't think it would be very good in the winter time either." I told him.
"Does it drive well in the snow?"
"No - it's terrible in the snow."
But then I was curious. Berlin was very practical. By his own description he was even cheap. One night when I wanted to buy a pint of Haagen Dazs ice cream at CVS, he tried to convince me to get the cheaper kind.
"But we could get more of the same thing for less money if we buy that one," he said pointing to some off-brand vanilla."I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, incredulous at the sacrelidge.
"First of all, we don't need more than a pint. We can't eat more. And second of all, ice cream is an indulgence. Like chocolate. You don't buy waxy, bad-tasting chocolate because it's cheap. It defeats the purpose of indulging in something delicious and unnecessary. For the same reason, you don't buy sub-standard ice-cream. You buy the good stuff. You suck it up and pay the $4 a pint because it tastes better. "
I could tell he disapproved of my frivolity, but he didn't say anything when I took the Haagen Dazs out of the freezer case. God, he really was cheap. My husband might be an idiot, but he valued good ice cream. He always bought me Haagen Dazs, and never once complained about the cost. When we got to the counter, Berlin let me pay.
The point here is that Berlin was not the sort of guy to keep two cars around when only one was sufficient, and I was suddenly perplexed. We hadfilled the back of the Outback with a load of Berlin's books and taken them to the half-price bookstore to sell - another testament to his cheapness, he probably got about as much money for those books as it cost to driver there and back on $4 a gallon gas - and on the way back I got to thinking about the car situation agian. I wrinkled up my forehead, as I do when I am pondering something that doesn't add up.
"Why do you have two cars anyway?" I wondered out loud.
And that's when he inadvertently told me a crucial detail about his relationship with HER.
"When I sold the east-side house, I had a little extra money, and I decided to buy myself a present. I bought this car ."
He meant the subaru.
"Besides, Marion was coming, and I couldn't very well let her drive the Mercedes in the winter."
The fact that he was just trying to sell me that car - a car I would undoubtedly drive in the *winter* was not lost on me. It was also not lost on me that he bought that car, not so much for him - but for HER. What was this? This was not just a casual relationship. This was more like a marriage. That's something my husband would insist on doing for ME. Wasn't I the married one? I let this sink in a little and I began to think about other things he had mentioned. Like the fact that she was too busy to help him make any of the arrangements to pick up the items he was having shipped to Germany. The fact that she didn't have any furniture and he was bringing all of his. I got the feling that she was the sort of women who needed a man to take care of her - or at least she let men take care of her - and he was happy to fill that role.
Looking back now, I can see how someone as independent as I am might have been emasculating. I already had a caretaker and I walked away. I didn't want anyone to do things for me - I was having the time of my life doing them myself.
So it was no surprise to me then that he had no internet, or phone. That would have been exactly the sort of thing she would have left him to take care of, and as a consequence he was not reading my angry email.
When I text messaged him that night about Obama's speech he told me he had no means of communication.
"So I think you owe me some sort of a response, don't you?" I had asked.
"Yes. I've been thinking a lot about my response," He messaged back. I just didn't think texting was appropriate. "
"Understood. And FYI, there is a rather acerbic email waiting in your inbox when you get o it. Let's just say I woke up pissed off." and then added, "And YES. Texting would be inappropriate. So let's leave it there and you can ruminate until you have learned the words "internet cafe" in German. Oh wait! They're the same.
I hit send on my iphone and I wondered if he would hear the sarcasm in my words as he read them on his screen. Of course I couldn't let it go at that. No, No. Writer that I am, I wanted to scream and shout and tell him how much I hated him. I wanted to pound my fists on his chest. So I did what I did what I do best. I wrote another email.
Berlin-
Well I am waiting for the final votes to be tallied up on the congressional races, and in the meantime I have nothing to do but "ruminate." And no one to distract me. So I am sitting here thinking I should apologize for being such a nasty bitch, but then I want to immediately kick myself for being so damned nice to people who only think of themselves, and who mistake my "generosity" for my lying down and being a doormat.
And then it hits me. It seems to me, that this is the sort of man I am attracted to - the selfish kind. Not obnoxiously self-centered and arrogant. No - that would be too easy to spot. To easy too react to and avoid. Nope. I go for the deep, thoughtful, mysterious sort who is also self-pitying, self-absorbed, and oblivious to the feelings and thoughts of the rest of his universe - which by the way revolves entirely around his problems. Seeing yourself in this picture yet?
I mean, why should I have ever have expected my husband to worry about me, he hated his job - he didn't like where we lived, he had to take the dogs for walks and unload the dishwasher, and run his life. He had problems bigger than mine, right? How could I possibly have expected him to really and truly understand how much pain I was in? Why would you have stopped to wonder how it feels to swallow your pride and put your heart on your sleeve ... quite foolishly ...only to be completely and totally ignored - I mean, after all - you had a lot on your mind, what with moving and starting a new life and all. I could hardly have expected you to wonder how all of that was making ME feel. That would have been unreasonable. No?
If there is one thing that has suddenly come into very clear focus, it is that I apparently gravitate toward men who are well-meaning but emotionally ill-equipped to manage anything but their own inner world. Maybe I just like the angst-ridden, melancholy sort and the self absorbed part just comes with the territory. I don't know.
What I do know is that I should quit it. I should find an emotionally stable and happy man (and I am sorry to say, you are neither) who has actually sorted through his own baggage and still has room in the closet for a little of mine. Enough room that we can tuck it away, shut the door and not think about it - possibly ever again. Do such people exist? Despite all that I have been through I actually think I really have dealt with things. I have dragged the good bad and ugly out into the light, dissected it, inspected it, folded it neatly and put it away. Is this a gender-specific ability?
Ironically, the x-husband is moving to the west-side of town - 3 blocks from me. Lately, we have been spending time together- walking the dogs -I made him dinner one night - and while we are not getting back together, he actually is starting to sort through his shit. It's like he suddenly is beginning to "get it", and he actually is trying to become a happier person, look inwards at his own issues and then see how they have damaged our relationship. And in the process he has become incredibly tender toward me, and I can feel his loss - our loss - and in some weird cosmic fuck-up, we are becoming closer friends - and much more genuinely emotionally connected than ever.
It almost makes me laugh, the absurdity of all of it. I mean, two months ago, I never thought he and I would get to that far. I thought you and I, on the other hand, would have been much closer. In fact, I expected ...I suppose I assumed we were making that emotional connection. And I assumed when the time came to say goodbye we would somehow be on the same page. Some sort of soft and bitter-sweet ending to a tender and fulfilling would-be romance. Now, I'm not even sure we were reading the same book. Life is funny. I am really quite deliriously out of touch.
So here I go, spewing my venom at you for breaking my heart, and blaming myself for not being stronger, more self-protective, more proactive and less oblivious to the red-flags of emotional unavailability. What can I say. It's 3 in the morning, I'm bleary-eyed and exhausted, and I have nothing better to do. And I'm letting it out as therapy. So that maybe I won't be so damned stupid next time and I will see the shit coming (and duck) before it hits the fan.
Perhaps you find it annoying -- all these tightly-coiled springs of my feelings unexpectedly snapping free in your face. I used to be so sweet, no? But that's what you get for getting involved with a writer. I may keep doing this for months. Or until I find that elusive emotionally together man with self-contained, pre-sorted and properly stored baggage, who permanently releives me of my pent-up frustrations. Hmmph. That might be a long time, if I extrapolate from the current data set.
Let's see how long it takes you to read this - and in the meantime I will attempt to mirror your apathy. It is an important skill I should have learned long ago, but I'm going to forgive myself. I am pretty damn amazing. If being cruel and heartless and detached are qualities I haven't yet mastered, I should be given a break. Seriously.
But apparantly I am quite good at being a nasty bitch when I want to be. So I'm just gonna go with it.
Carry on!
Writefromtheheart
Well I guess my snarky remark about the internet cafe did the trick. He did in fact hear the sarcasm dripping off that text. Two days later I was at work, trying to finish a story when suddenly an email pops into my inbox - from - guess who.
"Wow, you are a fucking saint aren't you?"
I could feel all the blood drain out of my face. The adrenaline was coursing through every vein in my body. I was trembling. I immediately shot an equally hostile email back.
Apparently. Is that all ? Jesus. I have no right to be upset? I have no right to say anything? What the fuck!!! You're the saint. I forgot. I am just an IDIOT. A STUPID, STUPID, STUPID girl. And I am so mad at you I am SHAKING. I wish I could say I didn't give a fuck what you think, or how you feel. It would make it a lot easier to tell you to go to hell."
Minutes later he replied.
No no, that is not all. You are not a stupid girl. It is just that you wanted more from me than I was prepared to give. I would remind you how we met. I never promised you any kind of love here.
I am incredibly sorry first, that you had to go through the ectopic pregnancy, and alone at that, second, that you had developed such strong feelings for me. They were not what I wanted to happen and were not really reciprocated fully on my end.
I am sorry that I let it go so far and hoped that we could be sort of casually having an affair that we both knew was self-limiting by circumstance. When it became stronger than that, I should have realized, did realize two nights before I left and didn't, no doubt because of my stunted self-centerdness, really know what I should do. How I could make good on feelings that I couldn't quite reciprocate. And that, from a practical standpoint, given my impending departure. Frankly, I was having some difficulty adjusting tho the idea that I was going to be here and dealing with Marion in person after so many months apart and staying with you in your new apartment in that domesticated arrangement was really bothering me. I am sorry that you now think so poorly of me. I am a shit for meeting you online and then not ducking out when I thought it was getting more serious for you.
Berlin
Yes. He was definitely a shit. But his apology softened me.
Berlin-
I shouldn't have asked you to stay with me. I knew all along ... you gave me all the signals of a guy backing off and I just kept pushing. I guess its because from the start I always felt that I had just sort of been an addendum to YOUR life - and I guess as I got to know you better I wanted you to be part of mine. It was my way of asking you to be part of mine -- and you didn't want that. It was clear. I guess I just really wished you could have said that. I really wish I just wasn't some girl you had meaningless sex with. Someone you wish you could just forget. I know how we met. But I AM stupid. I think that those things can somehow be something other than they are. I think the truth is I was never really looking for anything casual. I always wanted something real - and something serious, and I am stupid because I am foolish enough to think that something casual *might* accidentally grow into something more serious - for thinking it might grow into love. And in the beginning I really didn't know enough about your relationship with Marion to realize how off the market you really were. I didn't know in the beginning you were going there to LIVE with her - that she had basically lived with you - that you had bought a car for HER. You may as well have been a married man - and that was a road I never would have gone down if I had known. I put the pieces together too late. And you could have been more upfront.
I knew it was self-limiting by circumstance. But circumstances change. You gave me reason to think that things might not work out between you two – and all along I was left wondering how, if you took Marion out of the equation, you felt about ME. And way back then – lying in your bed when I was asking you those questions – THAT is what I was driving at. I was not asking whether you and I had some sort of immediate future. I was not asking you to stay with me. What I was asking was if you were developing feelings for me that carried any weight – feelings that merited being pursued if your circumstanced did change. If you got to Berlin and discovered you had made a terrible mistake. DO YOU SEE? I was trying to tell you then that I was beginning to feel something and I wanted you to cut me loose if you didn’t feel the same way – if you never would feel the same way no matter how bad things got with Marion.
You never really responded fully. You wanted to keep it going, and so you sort of skirted my questions – and you shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have let you either. I should have really pushed you harder – and I should have made you say what I didn’t want to hear. What I think you are telling me now: that even if there was no Maria, there would not have been an us. Am I right? That I am a sweet girl, and that we had fun, but that I was not the one for you. No magic.
I just need to hear you say that. It seems stupid to you, I am sure. I shouldn’t have been such a coward and been so afraid to just stand up and walk away. I should have just had some integrity and walked away!!! I didn’t because I knew you wouldn’t have come after me. You never did. Not that day when I left in a huff, not when I didn’t call for days, or when you went away to Boston, or now, when you are finally in Berlin. You have no interest in pursuing me, in any way. But I need you to say the words. Just say it, so I can put this behind me. Please.
I'm sorry for saying hurtful things. You hurt me a lot. Even if it was unintentional.
Writefromtheheart
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