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Moral Dilemmas and Rejection
Moral Dilemmas and Rejection
It's been awhile since I last posted - over a month.
Quite a bit has happened since my last post. The long time friend that told me in a rather callous phone message that she was moving to California called me again. It was nice to hear from her again. Apparently California is postponed until she can save up enough bank to go. She also dropped another little bomb on me. She's waiting until the "new guy" she's seeing gets a divorce from his wife. He hasn't filed yet and his wife doesn't even know he's thinking about it. There's a drama a soap opera could be based.
That's something I don't quite understand. This chick finally dumps her abusive dickhead of a boyfriend, then hooks up with a married man. He gave her a truck instead of a black eye. Despite the fact that she thinks he's going to sell his house, dump his wife and kid, and move to California with her, I just don't see it happening. The guy will be eviscerated by his wife in the divorce. She says he doesn't care about the money. If that was the case, I don't see why they're not on their way today. Why do women do this? Can some explain it to me?
At any rate, she said she was in dire need of a massage. I obliged her, of course. I know I did a great job because she basically passed out on my bed before I'd even finished. Despite the temptations, I remained a gentleman. She's my friend, so trust is important.
Speaking of friends, the one I'd spending a lot of time with, the one with the emotional wall seemed to drop it one night. Without telling in me in so many words, I felt we were getting closer. It was a small step. She bought me a toothbrush to keep at her house for when I stay overnight.
Even though she never really displayed much emotion toward me, we did have sex a number of times in the past few months. I didn't push anything. I just enjoy hanging out with her and her 3 year old son. We felt right together.
One of the last times we got together, she wanted me to meet her at Mall of America. Her son wanted to see "Bob The Builder". He's the Mick Jagger of the preschool set apparently, so I agreed. I know he likes trains too, so I took the Light Rail there to meet them. That way when they came to my place, we all could take the train. We went on a lot of rides, did some shopping and had a lot of laughs. It seemed like a good time.
Then a week ago my world came crashing down. She asked me if I'd like to come over after work and help her wrap presents for her brother. It was his 30th birthday, so she wanted to wrap 30 individual presents as a gag. They were small items; airplane liquor bottles, cans of beer, candy, antacids, etc. Silly things. I also helped her deliver her newspaper route in sweltering heat at 10:30 at night. I was drenched to the bone after about 20 minutes. I didn't mind because she was somebody I really cared about. Her son and I were also getting a lot closer, so it was almost like having a family again.
We went to bed late that night even though we both had to work in the morning. I knew from the previous trip that sex was out of the picture. Besides, I was really tired and knew I had to be up in 5 hours or so for work. My focus was on getting some shut eye.
We went to sleep quickly and were off to dreamland. About 4 a.m., I felt her get up. I figured she'd just gone to the bathroom. When she didn't come back, I wondered where she went. So, I went looking for her. She was in bed with her 3 year old instead of coming back to bed with me.
I thought this was kind of weird, but I went back to her room. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I pulled out one of the CD's I brought it. Music usually does the trick for me and it seemed like a good time to use it.
On top of her CD player was a notebook with no cover. She's always had notebooks laying around. Some of them are just filled with scribble from her son, some are lists of things to do, and some are her jottings. This one caught my eye because I saw my name on the page.
I read the sentence. "I don't like Ian."
I wondered what context it had been written in, so I read the whole page. To sum it up, she'd written about our trip to Mall of America and how she didn't really want to come over to my place afterward. Her son really wanted to spend time with me, so she caved. Despite all evidence that she had a great time when she was here with me, she wrote something else. She wrote that she didn't like me, but her son loved me to pieces. If it were up to her, she'd never hang out with me again.
I was devastated. I mean, here I was sitting on this young ladies bed reading that she didn't like me and didn't really want to hang out with me. The only reason I was there was because her son loved me. I didn't want to believe it.
There was more. I flipped the pages back and read more. I had to see if this was just a mood or was it something that she felt a long time. It certainly would explain the wall between us.
Nothing she wrote about me was positive. There were a lot of sentences about not liking me, some about not knowing why she didn't like me. There was one passage that said she didn't find me attractive, at least not by her standards. There was another passage that said she thought I was gross.
There was some stuff about having sex and how she liked it. But then the next day she'd regret it and say she was "bad" for liking it. I don't get it. She flat out told me she wanted to have sex every time we did. It wasn't as if she was pressured.
Anyway, I couldn't take anymore of it, so I left at about 4:30 or so. I packed up my things and hit the road. I figured the reason she crawled into bed with her son was because she had gone into "Ian's gross & ugly" mode. It was more rejection that I could deal with, especially after busting my ass in tropical temps to help her deliver newspapers. I felt pretty used.
For the next week, I didn't really want to talk to anybody. I was down, out, and alone again. Naturally. I made friends with my bottle of scotch to help ease the pain. Temporarily, it was a good fix.
Since then, I've written her a letter explaining what happened that night and why I left as I did. She doesn't understand it. She said we were friends right up until I "sneaked out of her house at 4 a.m.". She won't talk to me. It reminds me of a High School girlfriend.
Granted, I'm glad I'm not being used any more. I didn't feel like it at the time, but that's because I thought she actually liked
me. In reality, all she wanted was a surrogate dad for her son. Sadly, I really loved the little guy. I'll miss him. What even harder about it is his father split as soon as he was born to avoid child support. The boy has never even seen his dad. I was the closest thing he's ever had to a father.
Ironically, when I was suffering all those blues, my California bound friend called me. She knew something wasn't right just from the timbre of my voice. She asked me to come over, bring some tequila, and I could crash at her place. I told her the whole story. She thinks this woman is a bitch for doing what she did.
Morally, I feel a little iffy about it. I mean, what I read was her personal thoughts. It wasn't intended to reach my eyes. Journals are usually private affairs. It's not like she called me some names in anger. Nevertheless, when I saw my own name on it, I felt compelled to read what she wrote - especially considering that it was negative.
Then there's the school of thought that says, "Hey, she knew you brought CD's over. If she didn't want you to see her journal, she should have put it away, not left it out on top of the CD player. I think she wanted you to read it."
Maybe I'm naive, but I don't think she'd have been that vindictive. I think she just left it out because she's disorganized and messy. I don't think malice played any roll in it.
Now I'm confused. I don't know if she's mad at me because I read her private thoughts or if she's mad because she realizes that she won't be able to use me anymore. In some ways, I would still like to maintain a friendship with her. I just won't be running over to help her with things like I did in the past. Our relationship needs to be defined. It's too confusing to be lovers one night, then only platonic friends the next. To those who will get the reference, she's an emotional push-me-pull-you. One arm would be pulling me in while the other was pushing me away.
I don't know if we'll ever talk again. Maybe someday. My friends tell me to forget about her.
One guy said, "She's not the only pussy in the sea."
Funny, if I'd known there was pussy in the sea, I'd have stayed in the Navy.
8/9/2006 10:39 am
Awwww Ian, I am truly sorry for your pain and what has happened to you. I know you're hurt and with good reason. She did a really almost inexcusable thing, and yes, she used you. Its how I see it anyway. |
There are alot more women out there and you will find one that will appreciate you for you and what you have to offer. Its what keeps me going too.