I finally used a social network for the real reason it was created: to creep on an ex without their knowledge. Let’s just lay our cards on the table now and say that we have all done this. If we were all to be completely honest we would all have to admit to doing this at least once since setting up our Facebook or Twitter or (to a much lesser extent) MySpace. Some have done this more than others; some do this daily. I can say that tonight marked my first search for someone I once knew in a more than friendly way. (I will rescind this comment if another time comes to mind but as of this writing, none do.)
I honestly don’t know what possessed me to look her up. It was such a long time ago and the length of the relationship was really not that long, nine months or so. The only reason I can think of is that the other night I went to a spot where I used to do quite a bit of writing. The writing I would do at this particular spot was almost exclusively about her – not our relationship so much as her the person. I have three journals full of ramblings, poetry, and bad artwork all inspired by this one woman who at the time was everything to me. This, it would seem, was what broke us up. She was everything to me and I didn’t have a clue as how to control myself without controlling her. As fate would show me again and again over the intervening years this lack of tact and maturity would lead to the end of every romantic situation I would find myself in up to my current relationship with my lovely and understanding wife.
But she was the first. She was the one who set the ball rolling and goaded fate into action. She was the one who really made love hurt. She was the one who taught me the most. And she was the one who will forever be referred to as “The Debacle”. It is for these reasons and many more that she will hold a special place in the History Of Me. As such, perhaps a little back story is in order…
I was dating a girl for the better part of three years, but we really only connected for about three days during that entire time. It was high school, a different time and place all together in relation to expectations of what a healthy relationship should be. There was a lot more patience and slack given to your significant other when you’re young. Even when you both know there is nothing that will suffice as a solid foundation for even a platonic relationship you still strive for something that you will never possess: love and companionship. That is to say, you will never have these from one another.
This is where Fate enters the story in the form of a striking eighteen-year-old girl.
She had come to meet me at the request of a mutual friend. He wanted her to meet his friend who was single, he said. Here we are, just meeting for the very first time, already lying to one another. Granted it was my friend who lied but I did nothing to correct the matter. Long story short, we hit it off quickly and decided to go on a date soon after. The next day I went straight to my girlfriend and broke up with her. Well, that isn’t quite true. I tried to break up with her. When I told her everything she simply said that she wasn’t going to let me go. I threw my hands up and considered us broken up. After all, I had done my part and given it my best shot. The Debacle and I were on our way to being a couple.
It happened just that easily. There are more than a few things I could go into here that were more than just your average new relationship drama scenes, but they would only make me look foolish and, well, creepy. Suffice to say that she and I were happy when together but as soon as we parted so did the trust. Make no mistake, in hindsight I can see that there was no trust to begin with. How could there when our meeting itself was based on a lie?
Regardless of that our relationship progressed over the course of the final months of winter and into the spring. She graduated high school (a detail I should have divulged earlier?) and the spring melted into summer. We were together almost every day and used the word “love” like it was going out of style. I was a hit with her family and friends. Little did I know that I was not such a hit with her. The beginning of the end came toward the end of the summer when she went to check out colleges. She had her first taste of freedom and realized, as I feared she would, that being single was the best thing for a freshman. No ties to bind you while trying to spread you wings, as it were. Poetic sentiments aside, one can say that I did not handle a certain trip to the school she finally decided on well. The details have hazed due to time and alcohol but I seem to recall something about a phone call on my end around two A.M. demanding to know why she wasn’t asleep. Psycho? Yes. No doubt about it. She had every right to come straight home and break up with me.
She didn’t.
She came home and apologized. I was floored…until…
She began to spill the details of what she had done there. To be more specific, she wrote a letter (one for each day she was there – she had missed me too she claimed) detailing a trip to a river with a co-ed group of people she had just met. These new friends decided to go skinny dipping but she swore that nothing happened. I believed her because I knew (or thought) that she was it. We were happy again and remained that way for six more days. On the seventh day, presumably while God was resting, everything went to hell.
It was raining and she had called me to come over to her house. Of course I hopped in my car and drove as fast as my Chevy would take me. I had barely gotten both feet on her walk when she peeked her head and shoulders out of her front door. She had been crying, possibly still was. She yelled over the rain that we were over, I was free to go. That’s all she said. She ducked back inside and gently closed the door. Suddenly I was glued where I stood. My shoes had become a part of the sidewalk and the rain drenched me like any other statue. I stood, journal in hand, for a long time. I’m not sure how long, but when I finally returned to my car I had to wring out my clothes as best I could before getting in. I pulled out of her driveway and went straight to the spot that I visited that sparked this writing. I sat in my usual place, which was sheltered from the rain, and wrote pages upon pages of frantic (and probably bad) poetry about the dagger still metaphorically sticking out of my chest.
It wasn’t until months later, possibly years, I came to realize that she was the grown up in that situation. It marked the beginning of what has become something of a trend in my personal life: the woman is more mature than I, regardless of age or station in life. I have come to accept this as fact and embraced it when I married a woman more mature than her years should allow.
There you have a general overview of the impact that woman had on my life. If you are asking yourself the same question I ask myself often: would I have changed things if I were able? the answer is no. Things worked out the way they did for a reason. To quote a movie line: There is such a thing as fate…it just works in really fucked up ways sometimes. Especially in my case. (Side note: if I could work this experience into a story I would sell 250,000 copies in a week!)
Another question, and the most important right now: why did I decide to write about looking up an ex’s profile? Simple answer – vanity. I am writing almost gleefully because, as it turns out, my life has come to a more complete and happy place than her’s. Granted I know nothing of her current place and I am not where I thought I’d be at this point but I know that I am where I’m supposed to be.
Besides, I still look good. Just kidding. Sort of.
