Mr. Unavailable #111: The Sad Ultrasound

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text, Jeckyl and Hyde, The Layoff, One-Man Show, A Boy in Man's Clothing, The Doctors Visit, Giving Him the News and The Appointment for the background on this one.

Just one day after the door incident, I had an appointment at NYU for a more detailed ultrasound in the ongoing hunt for the missing embryo that could kill me. #111 had replied to my email the day before saying he'd still like to go to my next appointment with me, so I told him where and when. He was 15 minutes late--and he was never late, so, clearly, he was making a statement. He didn't apologize or anything when he walked in. I had gone to The Strand that morning and was reading an E.L. Doctorow novel in preparation for a New Yorker Festival panel discussion the next day--a discussion featuring Doctorow, Annie Proulx and Peter Carey that I had originally gotten the two of us tickets for. Clearly, I was making a statement, too.

We had nothing to say to each other. I started to put my book away and he said, "You can keep reading if you want to." So I did, and he got out his cell phone and was laughing as he texted or emailed someone, which bothered me to no end because, naturally, it made me wonder who was on the other end.

Finally, they called us into the examining room and I got undressed and up on the table. I learned from the day before to throw vanity out the window. The first technician came in and did one ultrasound. Again, it hurt--not only from pain but also from fear and #111, who was sitting in a chair next to me, put one arm over the top of my head and held my hand with the other. I squeezed his hand harder every time the technician hit a sensitive spot, digging my nails in just a little bit for my own gratification.

When the technician finished, she said it looked like it was in the cervix, which was a very bad place for it to be. "They did the right thing yesterday in giving you the pill and injection," she said. "They did a very good thing." When she left to get the doctor, I said to #111, "It's ironic that I don't even think I want a kid and this one could have killed me."

Then the doctor came in--an older doctor with a poor bedside manner who was not shy about jamming the ultrasound wand in. More hand squeezing, more nail digging. He had a more tempered diagnosis and told us that it may have miscarried on its own and been on its way out by the time they gave me the drug. "But we'll never know for sure," he said. "Either way, you're fine. This kind of thing happens all the time. With the next one, there will be no problem." That was the twenty-zillionth painful layer to this whole scenario: Everyone we came into contact with didn't know we weren't together.

On our way out, #111 said he was getting a bagel and asked if I wanted to get one, too. "Ess-a-Bagel?" I asked. That was the plan, he said. Sadly, we were always on the same page. It was raining a little and we walked together downtown. The conversation was light--this movie, that movie, Guy-Ritchie-is-a-one-trick-pony, oh-isn't-the-Ess-a-Bagel-decor interesting, teasing me about losing my keys... that sort of thing. Back outside, we were going in different directions, so we gave each other a sad little hug in the rain.

Diagnosis: Sad. Just sad.

Mr. Unavailable #111: The Appointment

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text, Jeckyl and Hyde, The Layoff, One-Man Show, A Boy in Man's Clothing, The Doctors Visit and Giving Him the News for the background on this one.

I met him at my appointment and when he walked into the waiting room, "strong" #111 was back. He immediately launched into a story about a man who appeared happily married, but told him the week before: "If I could do it all over again, I wouldn't." #111 had obviously liked this story very much because he was now changing his own. On a date back in July, he had referred to "whoever he ends up with..." indicating he wanted to end up with someone. Now, however, didn't sound like he so much wanted to anymore.

I was filling out paperwork and having difficulty figuring out how to work the insurance. The one that was probably "right" to use was going to not cover much and going to make things really expensive and, seeing as I was now unemployed, the one that might be "wrong" to use would have made everything free. So I asked him what he thought I should do and he snapped, "Well, why don't you try being honest for once."

I got up and walked away toward the check-in counter and gave them the expensive insurance info. I was clearly upset when I sat back down and he was like, "What's wrong with you?" I said what he'd said wasn't very nice and he said...(and there should be no surprise here), "I was just joking." And there it was, the mean streak poorly disguised as a sense of humor.

Early on in the relationship when we had the discussion about "what if I got pregnant," he asked if I'd ever been pregnant before. I said I hadn't. I thought that if he had gotten someone pregnant before then he would have told me then, but he didn't, so I assumed he hadn't. So I said to him, "So, you've never done this before, right?" And then he said he actually had. An old girlfriend years ago got pregnant but he was positive it wasn't his because they used to cheat on each other all the time. But he went through the process with her anyway (even when he said it he had a bit of a martyr air about it). And then with the 4.5-year ex--yes, there she was again--they had tried to have a baby but it didn't work out. This was the first I was hearing of it.

They brought me into a check-in room and then weighed me and put us in an examining room. The doctors came in and had me change. #111 asked if I wanted him to wait outside and I said I did. I changed and got on the examining table and a minute later, he came back in and said they told him he couldn't wait in the corridor. The whole thing was awful. I wanted him to be with me but he wasn't with me so I wasn't sure how to treat him. He didn't know how to act either. They came in to do another ultrasound and it actually hurt. #111 was standing down by the door and when he saw I was in some pain, he came over and stood by me and held my hand, which was nice but painful in a different way. Again, they couldn't find the embryo and said it might be ectopic. There was a chance it could rupture. I got dressed and he asked me if I was OK.

Standing there looking at him, I was miserable. "Can I have a hug?" I said. I buried my face in his shoulder, sobbing, and said, "This is awful. And we're not even together." We sat down and moved our chairs closer and he told me what happened with the 4.5-year ex. She got pregnant with twins but one of them died and then they had to wait for the other one to die. It was a terrible scenario.

"You tried to get pregnant even though you weren't married?" I asked.
"It was like a marriage," he said. "We had a very deep friendship."
That stung. "I knew on our first date you weren't over her," I said. "You talked about her even then."

The doctors came in and told us what the situation was. They said that if there was a chance we wanted it, they would wait to make sure, but because we didn't want to keep it, they didn't want to take any chances and would give me a shot that would end the pregnancy no matter where it was and then a pill to induce a miscarriage.

Afterward, #111 and I went outside. It had been exhausting. We'd been in there for three hours. He asked me if I was OK and hugged me. "Yes, but no," I said. "Thanks again for coming with me," I said.
"Yes, for like the 16th time," he said, because I'd thanked him a bunch of times for coming, partially because I was thankful and partially because I wanted to avoid one of his "annoyed" moods.

"Let's get you something to eat," he said, and we started walking toward the East Village. I felt awful. I had no idea what I was going to talk to him about. I was hurt because he'd brought up his ex--again. He held that damn relationship in such high regard--and, by his own admission, she had never even been emotionally available to him, so I don't know what this "deep friendship" bullshit was about. Maybe he was just trying to hurt me. It was all very baffling and painful at the same time because there I was completely ready, willing and able to go there and he didn't want to--because he wasn't able to. But he didn't know that.

I was quiet on our walk downtown, which, of course, meant he was nice to me, asking if I wanted to get ice cream or where I wanted to go to lunch. Finally I said, "How about Mogador?"

"Yes, let's go to Mogador," he said.

At Cafe Mogador, we made small talk and then, even though I knew I shouldn't have, I went there. "So, how come your ex was able to move on and you haven't been?" I said.

"She wasn't as sensitive as I am," he said.

And then I told him about this blog--but not the name or any other trackable details--about how I write about my dates with emotionally unavailable men and, then, in a roundabout way, I suggested how he was exhibiting classic signs of emotional unavailability--everything's great until a sudden emotional shut down.

"Look, I don't think I'm all that emotionally unavailable." He was angry now. "You just aren't hearing what you want to hear. I just don't feel that strongly about you." He was angrily yelling at this point, in a hushed-restaurant type of yell. "It's the passion thing. I just don't see it."

"What, you want me to sit here and prove to you that I'm passionate about things?"

"No, I just don't see it. What are you passionate about?"

I started a list of things and realized, as he shot each of them down, it was futile. He needed to find a reason for why he didn't want to be with me and this was what he found. My apparent lack of passion. Somewhere in the 12 hours between when I'd seen him last night and now, he had decided that, no, it wasn't that he was emotionally unavailable, it was that I just wasn't that passionate. And, by the way, he didn't really want to get married anyway.

"Well, I don't see it in you, either," I said. "Sure, you like the arts but I don't see how you like it more than anyone else." He began to defend himself, lamely.

"I think you're a hypocrite," I said. And the thing was, I was right. And he knew it. It was like Therapy 101--he was projecting.

I sat there, despondent. I had made the mistake of thinking that he was open the night before, so he would still be open now. I was wrong.

"You were so open and vulnerable last night and now you're all walls," I said, moving my hands in front of me to indicate walls going up.

"Yeah, well, it's been a trying day," he said.

I was silent for the rest of lunch, and I'd lost my appetite. When the bill came, I tried to pay--because money had been such an issue with him--and I admit it was a little passive-aggressive, but I didn't care.

"Let me just walk you home," he said. It was more like he followed me home. At my downstairs door, which is heavy and made of steel, I opened it to walk in and he said, "Here, just take this [the leftovers]. Please just eat something."

"No, you paid for it," I said.

"Just take it," he said.

I grabbed the bag and walked through the door, letting it fall on him. Yes, I was being a bit of a child, but I think on some level I was allowed. I had taken enough.

When I got up to my apartment, I got to write this email, and chuckled as I typed:
"I'm sorry I got upset and let the door fall on you. I guess there are just certain things we can't talk about." Letting the door fall on him was one of my prouder moments.

"Now there's passion for him," Nora said after I told her and Heidi about the door later that night. Neither of them were surprised by his retreat from vulnerability. "This is who he is," Heidi said.

Diagnosis: When a man is angrily yelling at you, "I don't feel that strongly about you," clearly, he feels strongly about you.

But here's the really sad thing about this whole scenario: Even though I let the door fall on him, I fully knew that I would hear from him again and that he would go with me to my appointment the next day--maybe that's even why I knew I could let the door fall on him. He had a commitment to what was going on that I completely trusted and believed in--a commitment that, for a while, he sounded like he was making but was never truly able to make to our relationship. I now know what him being committed to me feels like, only he wasn't committed to me, he was committed to my abortion.

Mr. Unavailable #111: Giving Him the News

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text, Jeckyl and Hyde, The Layoff, One-Man Show, A Boy in Man's Clothing and The Doctors Visit for the background on this one.

I was petrified to tell him. After all the things he'd said about how his ex's friends used to talk about getting pregnant by the next guy they met--just to have a baby--I was afraid he'd have thought I'd done it on purpose somehow. And after how he behaved during the breakup, I wasn't even sure if I would hear back from him at all. I decided to wait until the classes he taught were over for the day and left him a message. "It's Tara. When you have a chance, if you could call me back tonight, that would be great. It's kind of important."

Then I waited. A few hours later, he called.

"I have bad news..." I said. "...I 'm pregnant."
"I thought that's what it might be," he said.
"I figured you'd figure it out."
"Maybe we should talk about this in person," he said, and then he started to ask how it could have happened. I said I didn't know and became flustered and he said, "It's OK, I know."
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
"Under the circumstances, I really don't think it would be a good idea to have it," I said.
"Listen, we should talk about this in person, I'm going to come down. I'll be there in about an hour."

I was stunned. I never thought he'd race downtown to talk about it. He always seemed so annoyed whenever anything remotely tricky came up (tennis taking a long time, me not immediately offering him gum, etc.) that I thought this would be too much for him to handle.

An hour later, he came up the stairs and when he saw me had a look on his face that I'd never seen before--sort of open and concerned--not the closed-off "intense" expression he always cultivated. We sat down and he asked if I knew how far along everything was. I told him maybe five weeks, but they couldn't tell because they couldn't find it and it might be ectopic and the doctor seemed more freaked out than I was, which only freaked me out more...again, I became overwhelmed.

"It's OK," he said. "Let me talk for a minute. I felt like such an asshole when I left here last week. I was such an asshole for all those things I said to you."
"Why did you say those means things?"
"Because you were right. Everything you said was true. I didn't realize I did those things until you said something."

I forget the exact order of the conversation, but at one point he was talking about me...

"I hope you don't take this a patronizing, but you carry yourself with such ease. Even with your friends I see it..." and then he went on "...and a lot of people are self-deprecating and it's because they really don't like themselves, but you're self-deprecating and not like that at all." It was a compliment delivered almost morosely. In retrospect, I realized he was telling me he didn't have those things.

"That's not patronizing, that's very nice," I said. I told him it came from working on myself for a number of years (therapy, etc.) and how when I started dating again in earnest, I met a guy (#100) and told Heidi how comfortable I was with him and she said, "It's probably because you're comfortable with yourself."

"You used that line on me," he said. "That you never felt as comfortable with anyone before."

"I felt more comfortable with you than I did with that other guy."

"Why did you not date much for five years?" he asked.

"Because I think I was shut down on some level," I said, and then told him how at the end of last year I decided I didn't want to be alone anymore and that's when I started dating more. "I'm learning what I want and who I want to be. I want to be in a relationship where I can reveal who I truly am and not get rejected--and for the other person to reveal who he truly is. I don't want to be in any other kind of relationship. I don't want to be a walking dead person. There are too many relationships like that."

He just nodded. As we talked, he was slumped a little on my sofa and was looking straight ahead. He was on the verge of tears.

"Do you want to be alone?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm fine alone. I'm fine with someone..."

"Well, I think it would be a shame if you were alone because you have so much to offer if you'd just let yourself."

He didn't say anything at that. I could see him welling up again.

At one point I said, "I don't think you were going to break up with me. I think you're emotionally unavailable and when I got laid off you felt some sort of weird pressure."

"No, I was going to end it," he said (and that stung), "but you're probably right, I probably am emotionally unavailable. If I were more self-aware, I'd probably know that."

"That's funny," I said. "You're always talking about how self-aware you are."

"You know what they say about people who talk a lot about being a certain way, they usually aren't."

"Methinks he doth protest too much," I said, totally stealing Heidi's line.

"You're probably right," he said, "You're very smart, you know. Very smart."

The conversation came to a sort of natural close and he said, "I'd like to go with you to your appointment tomorrow."

I told him I'd like that and said I'd see him there at 9 a.m. He used my bathroom for a second time and I said, "I thought I was the one who was supposed to be peeing all the time."
"It's sympathy peeing," he said.

When he left, I was ecstatic. I didn't know what any of this meant, but I wondered if there was hope.

Diagnosis: Ironically, our relationship just got the depth it needed in the breakup. Or maybe he could only tell me these things because we have broken up. He has finally let himself be open and vulnerable, and it's beautiful. This is what I've been waiting for, but has it come too late?

Mr. Unavailable #111: The Doctors Visit

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text, Jeckyl and Hyde, The Layoff, One-Man Show and A Boy in Man's Clothing for the background on this one.

I kept busy over the weekend, going on the Haunted Halloween hayride upstate that #111 was supposed to join in on. Instead, just Shelagh and Allison and I drove upstate. I'd already told Shelagh about the positive result and then told Allison in the car. She was alarmed. "Those things are usually right," she said. I momentarily panicked but truly felt I wasn't actually pregnant. I wasn't having any weird cravings or any bizarre reaction to things. Plus, I happened to have an OB-GYN appointment scheduled for Monday so I knew I would find out for sure soon enough. Besides, everything I was feeling felt like PMS and sometimes I had really bad PMS.

"Sickly, I kind of hope I am pregnant," I said.
"Well, that makes sense, so you still have a connection to him," Shelagh said.
"No, I said, so I can say to him, 'I'm pregnant with your child and I'm going to get rid of it.'"

We made a zillion off-color jokes about my unlikely pregnancy, from "and people said I looked radiant on my birthday...and they thought it was because I was in love" to "maybe we can find you a flight of stairs upstate...or tip a cow on you." I was reveling in my dark humor, and, knowing it would end once I found out I wasn't pregnant, said, "I'm going to miss my imaginary baby."

Even I have to admit that this PMS was different. Usually I want to wear baggy clothes to hide myself when I'm PMSing, but with this, for some reason, I was still wearing dresses and tighter clothes and not afraid to hang out of them a little--or, actually, proud of hanging out of them a little.

On Monday, I went to the doctor. When the nurse took my urine sample, I said, "So, I took a pregnancy test on Friday and it looked like it came back positive, but I'm sure I'm not." Suddenly, her tone changed, "Well, we'll find out..." and then about five seconds later, "Yup."

"Yup? Yup what? Yup, I'm pregnant?"

"You're pregnant."

"Holy fucking shit..."

I never thought I was the kind of girl who could get pregnant. I was always so damned responsible. Obviously, I am an idiot because I was that girl. I couldn't figure out how it could have happened because we were careful, except for that one episode of crime-scene sex. At the risk of TMI, the doctor said it was possible it could have been a very bloody ovulation.

In the span of one week, I got laid off, dumped and found out I was pregnant. By the time I got the third layer of bad news, I was calm. Even Heidi (who met with me at every stage of the disaster, bringing me cupcakes, buying me dinner, taking me home with her) said so when she met me out that night.

"Obviously, I don't have control over anything," I said. "I give up. There's nothing I can do. I know what I need to do next and that's it."

One of the things I had to do next? Tell #111. And I wasn't even sure if I would ever hear back from him.

Diagnosis: Too much badness in too small a time span.

Mr. Unavailable #111: A Boy in Man's Clothing

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text, Jeckyl and Hyde, The Layoff and One-Man Show for the background on this one.

The day after our last date, I couldn't think. I was miserable. I started making lists of things I was unhappy about and decided I needed to talk to him. I never wanted to be "that girl" in a relationship--who always needed to talk--but enough was enough. I knew he was downtown for his volunteer job, so I texted him around 4 p.m. asking him if he could come see me when he was done. I felt oddly empowered after sending the text, which meant it was the right thing to do.

I met Heidi at Pinkberry and waited. As the hours ticked on, I got more and more angry: "What a fucking coward," I said. Finally, around 7, there was a voicemail message from him that I'd somehow just missed. He gave some excuse about why he didn't respond up until now and said he'd hang around downtown for a little while. I felt a tiny spring of hope. He was appearing to be accommodating. I called him and he said he'd meet me at my place in twenty minutes. When he came upstairs, I didn't even bother looking for a kiss. He came in and sat down and I said, "I really like you and I want to work on this relationship but I am not sure where you are at."

"I don't want to take this relationship any further," he said.

I was stunned. Then he said, "I was going to break up with you but then you got fired, so..."

Asshole. I got laid off, not fired. And he had made a unilateral decision with no discussion, no nothing. I asked him why. He started saying it was the little things, like how I didn't immediately offer him gum the day before. He also said that I wasn't a good listener and when he would tell me things I would say, "Poor you" or not listen. He said he didn't feel very deeply about the relationship. The weird thing was, the whole time he was saying all that, he was incredibly angry. I asked him why he didn't tell me he thought those things. "I apologize for that," he said. Never say anything about the things that aren't making you happy and instead just end it? It wasn't making any sense.

"Intimacy is being able to ask for what you need and being able to communicate and being able to tell someone how you feel," I said. He insisted intimacy was the little things--like immediately offering someone gum. I was angry. Many things began to click into place. I could never figure out how he could stay in a relationship for four years where the woman wasn't capable of intimacy and now I knew--he wasn't capable of it either. "I feel really sorry for you," I said. "Now I know how you could be in a relationship for four and half years where there was no intimacy."

That made him angrier. "If you want to discuss things like that, we can talk about that another time." Clearly, he didn't know how to handle what I'd said.

And then suddenly he said, "I was a complete fucking gentleman for three months!"
Again, stunned, I said, "I never said you weren't."

He said again how he needed to be be with someone who understood that the little things he mentioned were important. And I said, "Well, I need to be with someone who can communicate and tell me what they need and not expect me to read their mind or one minute tell me I can doze in bed and then the very next ask me why I didn't make coffee."

"Well, I apologize for that," he said. And then he left.

I was floored. I had no idea who I was just dating. Did the real #111 just walk out the door?

I met Heidi out and told her what happened. She told me that, clearly, he had no intention of breaking up with me before I got laid off--he would have been happy coasting along doing less and less--but when I got laid off, he realized he was going to have to show up for me and there was no way that was going to happen. I was angry.

"He wants to be alone, just look at how he lives," she said. "He's 44 years old and he chooses to live with a roommate in Harlem. There's no space in his life for anyone else. He's an isolationist."

She was right. I didn't want to be alone and Heidi offered me her sofa. In the cab on the way to DUMBO, I repeated some of the idiotic things he said. Like how we could talk about his lame four and a half year relationship some other time. "When exactly does he think we're going to talk about it? In Break-Up, Part 2?" And "When exactly was he going to break up with me? He said yes to everything I invited him to."

I felt relieved on some level--I no longer had to worry about where I stood or guess what his intentions were. But I knew the anger and relief wouldn't last. It never does.

Diagnosis: For him: When he said he was a "complete fucking gentleman for three months," he was basically telling me that he came with an expiration date, that his acting like a gentleman was indeed an act that he could only keep up for a little while.

This whole thing shined new light on things he told me about his past relationships. He always said how he and his workaholic ex from his 4.5-year thing never fought. Most likely, it was because he was chasing her for four and half years, which kept him interested. Maybe he didn't want anyone he could actually have. He probably didn't have to do too much, either. He'd moved into her apartment, she probably had plenty of money, he probably had very little to worry about. I bet it was an easy, intimacy-free existence.

"It's like playing house," Nora said. "He was no different in that relationship. His ex just probably didn't care enough to notice or do anything about it, especially if she was working all the time."

He sometimes talked about another four-month relationship where he claimed she said she started wanting him to change. Maybe what really happened was that he started to pull away, to do less and less (the "gentleman" went away) and expect more from her, just like he did with me, and she probably didn't like it either. She probably didn't want him to change, she probably wanted him to be the guy he initially presented himself as--a guy he never truly was.

For me: I really need to disregard everything he said about me. The things he said about me bothered me. I have never, ever in my entire life been called a bad listener or selfish, like he was claiming, so I knew on some level it was all bullshit. I knew from what he'd told me in the past that those were old issues of his--that he felt like people weren't listening to him, so it was probably one of the first--and easiest--cards to play. Most likely, he didn't even know why he was breaking up with me. Most likely, it was because we were getting closer--too close. But, like I said, I need to disregard it because it was all bullshit. Maybe I was threatening his isolationism and, instead of looking at it, he attacked the threat to it: me. That's why he was so angry.

The plot thickens: For more than two weeks, I've been experiencing what I thought was massive PMS. So, on the day of the break-up, I took a pregnancy test. Oddly, it came back positive. But those things can be wrong. Right?

Mr. Unavailable #111: One-Man Show

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text, Jeckyl and Hyde and The Layoff for the background on this one.

Date #25(ish): I'd earlier bought tickets to see a friend of mine in his latest one-man show. It was an old friend from Chicago and his shows were always hilarious. #111 emailed me to say he'd come down at 7 and we could "grab some grub" before the show. When he came in and went to kiss me, I instinctively withdrew. It was a gigantic flinch--the most massive of all my flinches. My head retreated an entire foot. He said, "OK" and came into my apartment. I felt horrible. it was entirely unintentional, but deep down I guess it just meant I knew something was very wrong. He brought no flowers, no words of encouragement, no nothing. Instead, he was the one who was morose. I was wondering who, exactly, had just lost their job.

We went to dinner and I tried to keep eye contact with him but he couldn't do it, he'd look away. I tried to hold his hand across the table, nothing. Even going to the show, I waited to see if he'd hold my hand and he never did. I had to instead. Once we got there and I ran into people I knew, I began to play the cheerful role once again. He was pretty much dead weight. I'd introduce him to people but he wouldn't engage. Even when he put his hand on my leg in the show--as he always did when we saw something--the feeling behind it was gone. It felt perfunctory and cold.

Afterward, he came back to my place to get his stuff. He wasn't staying. I asked him if he'd stay and said, "I promise not to bother you." Did I really just say that? I'd reached a point of being pathetic that I hadn't seen in years--if ever. But I was feeling desperate.

Diagnosis: I can't exactly figure out what's happening or which came first. Has he shut down or does he truly not know how to comfort people, to be there for them? Or both? It reminds me of something he said to me when I expressed my joy at something small, like getting ice cream or eating cake: "I'm so glad such small things make you happy," he said, "because I have so little to offer you." And he said that when we were happy, when things were wonderful. Was it really a warning? Did he see that I deserved more than he was willing or able to give? Did all of his previous girlfriends expect so little of him that this was new to him? When they had a bad day, was he there for them? Or did they expect so little of him that they managed to take care of themselves? Or did he always date people who didn't let themselves have bad days? I'm truly baffled.

Mr. Unavailable #111: The Layoff

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me, The Drunken Text and Jeckyl and Hyde for the background on this one.

The Layoff: On Monday after our weekend together, I was non-busy at work. I'd just finished a massive project that had me working 12-hour days and then, toward the end of the day, the CFO called me while I was sitting at my desk and asked if I'd come to the executive creative director's office. I walked in and said, "Uh oh." My position was being eliminated, blah, blah, blah.

I went back to my desk to pack a few things and my first thought was, "What am I going to do?" My second thought was, "Oh no, what's going to happen to my relationship?" I was hesitant to call #111 and tell him. Somewhere in my little brain I was worried about this putting unnecessary pressure on him, on the relationship. I had an instinct not to "worry" him, not to seem to "needy." I wanted to send him some kind of message that I didn't "need" him, like calling him later in the day. I knew it would be weird, though, if I called him later, so I called and left a message. I called some friends and then went to meet Heidi and Amanda downtown for coffee.

He called me back as I was walking to the coffee place. "I'm really busy, but I just wanted to see if you were OK," he said. "I can't come meet you, but do you have someone to hang out with?" It was seriously lame. He checked in on me once or twice over the next day or so and on Wednesday sent me an email telling me he had to cancel all of our future plans except for our date on Thursday. I kept thinking about how Kevin would bring his girlfriend flowers when she had a bad day and here I've just lost my job and #111 is MIA.

I called him at one point and left him a message and made a conscious effort not to sound too down or sad, and I kind of realized that was kind of how I always had to be in the relationship--I had to play the upbeat girlfriend to his grumpy old man. It reminded me of an earlier date when I started to tell him why I didn't like to complain a lot and he said, "Because I take up all the complaining time?"

Diagnosis: I have a sinking feeling in my gut that I I'm trying to ignore, but I'm starting to get the picture. If he isn't sick or headache-y, he's going to be busy. Either way, he's not going to be good at showing up for me. Somewhere along the way, I'd gotten the message that he didn't want someone needy (maybe it was all the talk about "women in their 30s" and how his ex from his four and a half year relationship was an emotionally unavailable workaholic)--and here I am needing him and he is nowhere to be found. But he's my boyfriend, I'm allowed to need him in times of crisis.

Mr. Unavailable #111: Jeckyl and Hyde

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Happy Birthday to Me and The Drunken Text for the background on this one.

The Last Weekend: He sent me an email Saturday morning to say he'd come downtown and drop his stuff off and then we'd head to the Lee Friedlander exhibit at the Whitney. He came downtown and he was off somehow. Nervous? Distant? Not sure. I forget what we were talking about, but he told me that he'd watched the rest of the season of Dexter and it was great. "You didn't save it for me?" he said. "Nope," he said. And he actually seemed kind of proud of it. On the subway, he launched into a sort of rant about how women in their 30s suddenly demand things from men--they want babies so they go a little nuts with the men they're dating, he said. He wasn't pointing the finger at me, just my kind. I tried to be judicious and agreed that some women want to be saved.

We got to the Whitney and, in the elevator, he did mock karate chops at me. "I remember when you used to be nice to me...he beats me because he loves me," I said. I walked ahead of him in the exhibit and eventually he came up to me and hugged me and was the same #108 I knew and loved (only after I went doubly distant). I had several upcoming events that I wanted to invite him to, but I didn't want to overwhelm him, so I tried to space them apart. Back on the subway, we stood close and I asked him if he'd like to go to a party that was in November. He said that sounded like fun. We went and saw The Last Exorcism at a theater in Times Square. I asked him if he liked to go on a haunted Halloween hay ride the next weekend. He said "Sure, that sounds like fun." There was a third thing I asked if he wanted to do--which, again, he said yes to--but now I don't remember what it was.

Walking across 42nd Street after the movie, which we thoroughly critiqued--a favorite pastime of ours--we wandered into the Pop Tart store and marveled at all of the Pop Tarts and Pop Tart paraphernalia. He was clearly excited about the prospect of a Pop Tart T-shirt to add to his T-Shirt collection and mentioned his upcoming birthday--he wasn't shy about hinting about his birthday. We had a mutual affection for sugar, as I think I've mentioned, and were clearly in our element.

We went to Boca Chica after for dinner. One thing I've always noticed about us is our inability to maintain eye contact--except in bed. And even that's in the dark. Allison and Shelagh had taken an intimacy workshop, part of which was learning sustained eye contact. I said to him, "I think we should do something like that sometime." He said, "You would last two seconds." I said maybe, but we'll see. He noticed I was tired and asked if I was too tired for...and then he made a fist-knocking motion. "No, I'm not too tired, and if we didn't I'd be mad," I said. Between his "not feeling well" and his trip to Seattle, it had been three weeks since we'd had sex. Honestly, even when we attempted fooling around in the previous few weeks, he was having maintenance issues.

The next morning he said to me, "Why don't you doze while I go take a shower." I thought that was lovely. I lazed in bed until he came out and when he did, he said, "Why haven't you made coffee or something?" I kid you not. Aggravated and unable to express myself (I have an extremely strong guilt reflex), I got up and made coffee.

We headed to tennis and it turned into a bit of a fiasco where we had to go all the way to the East River to sign up, had to go all the way to Union Square to buy tennis balls and then went all the way back to the East River. He was somewhat morose for the whole affair. I tried to keep the mood afloat, saying things like, "It's not about the destination, it's about the journey," and "If we survive this, maybe we could get frozen yogurt after." By the time we got to the courts, I had lost my sense of humor and he could tell. He put his arm around me and then gave me the shady side of the court. Again, when I go distant, he comes back.

We hit the ball over the net--or tried--for an hour. I gave him a kiss at the end (even with that he seemed far away) and he told me I was very graceful. When we got back to my place, he asked/demanded (definition: a request that feels more like a demand) that I heat up our leftovers from the night before and said, "Why don't I take you for frozen yogurt." We went to 16 Handles and then sat in the park. It was getting cooler out, more like fall, and we both liked the weather. We sat for a while, I had my head on his shoulder, and then, eventually, he said he had to go.

Signs of Hope: Spending the entire weekend together. Saying yes to all kinds of future plans. The Pop Tart store.
Red Flags: The whole Jeckyl and Hyde thing : saving Dexter to watch with me a few weeks ago and then not saving it to watch it on his own, making coffee...lots of unsettling things.

Diagnosis: I've been here before. With someone who wants to spend all weekend with me but starts having maintenance issues and is a poor communicator about whatever he is feeling--sometimes he doesn't even know what he is feeling. It usually means some kind of emotional shut down is happening. He may be shutting down on me. When I said, "He beats me because he loves me," I wonder if I was onto something.

Mr. Unavailable #111: The Drunken Text

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4 and Happy Birthday to Me for the background on this one.

The Unplanned Date: #111 texted me at around 10 on the Thursday night after his return from Seattle. "I am very drukk," it said. I thought it was sweet that I was getting a drunken text. It turned out he was in the neighborhood. He asked if I would save him, so I went to Holiday Lounge to retrieve him. When I walked in, he was lying in a booth across from two people I'd never met before. "Oh, so this is the girlfriend," they said. I have to admit, I wasn't feeling very confident about the relationship, so I was wondering what he'd told them. I slowly gathered that they were pretty plastered, too.

They'd been at a meeting for the literary journal that was a few blocks from my apartment. He'd told me about the meeting but never mentioned it was downtown. Again, even though we hadn't seen each other in over a week and even though he was going to be downtown, he'd made no effort to see me--until the drunken text, that is. He was a very grabby drunk, which was alternately annoying and flattering. I fed him pizza and brought him home and he said, over and over again, "You're so good to me. Thank you for taking care of me." In bed, he didn't even touch me. I even sneaked a hand toward him and he moved away from it.

Coincidentally, I had emailed in a sick day that night--before I got his drunken text--so when we woke up the next morning, he wondered why I wasn't getting ready. "I coincidentally took a sick day," I said. "Haven't you been taking a lot of days off," he snapped, referring to the two I'd taken over a week and a half before." Clearly, he wasn't happy that I was free for the day. I began to defend myself, saying it was slow at the moment. He took a shower and when he came out said, "I think it's great you're taking a sick day. You could use the break." Again, Jeckyl and Hyde. I suggested we go for breakfast and we went to Remedy. Once we got there and sat down, all my worry melted away because as we talked, I remembered why I liked him in the first place. I really just like talking to him. I like everything about him, really, and I really felt it when we talked.

I dropped him off at the subway and he said, "So what's the plan for the weekend?" I told him I had a list of stuff, so he said I should send it to him.

Signs of Hope: Breakfast. Making plans for the weekend.
Red Flags: Everything up until breakfast.

Diagnosis: I don't know what went down in Seattle, what kinds of things he was telling himself, but something is up.

Mr. Unavailable #111: Happy Birthday to Me

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2, Day 3 and Day 4 for the background on this one.

My Birthday: I was feeling better after having called him that morning and #111 emailed me later in the day to say he'd come by my place around 7 and then we could walk over to Boca Chica, where I was getting together with friends for my birthday. He came by promptly at 7. His energy was low-ish. Again, he said it was because he was still not feeling well. When I went to kiss him, he claimed to be mucous-y. I said I didn't care but there was no evidence of it anyway--nor was there for the rest of the night.

We walked over to the dinner and met my friends. We sat down together and I confided, "It's a little uncomfortable being the center of attention like this." And he said, "Well, maybe you shouldn't have invited so many people." There it was again--his mean streak thinly disguised as a sense of humor. I ignored his comment and talked to my friends, mingled. Otherwise, we seemed to be fine. He had his hand on my leg for a lot of the evening and was holding up the camera to take self-portraits of us. He told people he was leaving the next day for his trip to Seattle. People asked why he was going. Just to go, to get away, he said. He made reference at one point to our trip to the Hamptons and said, "I've put in my time." At one point, the waiter brought out cupcakes and everyone sang "Happy Birthday." A few minutes later another table at the restaurant sang "Happy Birthday." Feeling like they were trying to outdo us, it turned into a "Happy Birthday" showdown when my friend Michael encouraged everyone to sing it again--louder. I laughed until I cried.

When I went to blow out the candles, I made a wish. Normally, I would wish for a boyfriend or, if I had a boyfriend (which was rare on my birthday), that it would work out between us and marriage might be in the picture, but I was feeling uncertain. So I just wished that whatever was supposed to happen, would happen. If we were meant to e together, then things would work out.

Later, I found out that he had actually contacted Nora about a cake for me, asking if anyone had gotten one. She volunteered to go get cupcakes and did. It bothered me a little that he didn't take more initiative to get the cake himself but maybe that's a minor thing. After, he helped me carry things home. He was headed home for his flight the next day and took my address to send me a postcard. he said he'd talk to me from Seattle.

Red Flags: His "not feeling well" was becoming less convincing. I saw no signs of any kind of congestion or anything. I was beginning to wonder if he made the whole thing up even before Labor Day weekend. Maybe we went away together too soon in the relationship and the actual prospect of our three-day physical closeness was anxiety-inducing for him. And then our communication while he was in Seattle felt limited. He was there for almost a week and we texted very little and talked even less. On the last night, we talked on the phone and it was good, but my close friend Chloe was in Seattle and I had put them in contact with each other but he never bothered to call her.

Diagnosis: For him: I have no idea. He may be developing a permanent distance from me. If he is, he's obviously not capable of talking about it.
For me: I'm somewhat in panic mode. Even though rationally I know that I'm not 100% about the relationship--I want things to work out but if he can't work with me, then it's not going to work--I'm terrified that he's suddenly going to leave, which is usually how the guys I date behave. One day everything's fine, the next it's over...because they're Mr. Unavailables.

Mr. Unavailable #111: Hamptons Getaway, Day 4

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery, We're Just Not That Into Each Other, The Continuation, The Curse is Broken, Unfortunately, The Make-Up Date, The Phone Call, The Negotiation, Dates 9 Through 12, Dates 13 Through 15, The Public Sex Talk, Bridging the Chasm, The Shut Down, All Kinds of Good, Meeting the Friends, Part 2, Hamptons Getaway, Day 1, Day 2 and Day 3 for the background on this one.

Day 4: We got up to pack up but things were still weird from the night before. I made coffee and he made breakfast for himself while I got ready. Realizing he had done that but mostly upset about the chasm between us, I went out and sat on the patio, furious. He came out and asked what was wrong (again, suddenly available if I went doubly distant). I said, "How do you think this is going?"

"It depends on what you're about to say next," he said.

I told him I didn't like how he went distant, and that if he did that, I'd go twice as far away. I asked him what his deep silences were all about. He said he was just thinking about me and how I was. I asked him what he meant. He said that I was kind of sloppy--I'd left a coffee ring on the counter and he would never do that in someone else's house--and would have liked it if I'd have offered to help him carry things out the door yesterday. "It was kind of like a comedy situation where I was carrying things out the door," he said. He asked me if I had a hard time doing things for men. He also said he would like it if I offered to pay for more things.

I was shocked but I took it all in. It was kind of a lot, but if I learned anything in therapy it was to admit that anything was possible. I wanted to work on myself and if these things were important, I wanted to work on them. I said that I liked doing things for people but maybe I had just lived alone for so long...I responded as best I could and then asked him to say something nice. He said that this relationship was remarkably stress-free compared to his other relationships and that I always made him feel better when he saw me, which, he said, "was no small thing." Especially, he said, with the summer he'd been having health-wise.

We packed up and drove off, but I still felt unsettled. I began asking him questions in the car, like how his other relationships were stressful and he said that the last woman he dated (for about five months) suddenly seemed to want him to change. She was unhappy with what he was doing with his life, he said. It also came out that he had been in touch with his ex of four and a half years in the spring in order to give a key back. They broke up two years ago, why he still had his ex's key was baffling. By the time we reached the car rental place, I was pretty far gone mentally. I just didn't want to say anything I regretted. Things were somehow not sitting right with me and I wanted to figure it out before I said anything. He asked if I was alright (yes, suddenly he was emotionally available again) and kissed me before I got off the bus.

I got on the subway. I was furious. When the subway stopped and went no further at 86th Street (damned weekend track work), I crouched on the sidewalk on the corner of 86th and Lexington and called Shelagh and ranted for about half an hour. When he was carrying stuff out the door and making breakfast for me, he never even ASKED for help, it's like he expected me to read his mind. When I made dinner for us, I ASKED him for help--he didn't offer otherwise. And, as for paying for things, he always acted like he enjoyed it and usually took the initiative. Don't get me wrong, I paid for things, too (although I admit I let him pay for more), but I didn't want to split things, so either I would just let him pay and thank him or I would pay. I had never gotten the impression it was a problem.

The next morning, I called him. I told him I didn't offer to pay because I didn't want to split things and it would be disingenuous for me to offer if I didn't want to split things--because we were together and I thought it would be odd and strangely not couple-y to be sitting there dividing a bill. I told him that we could work it out where I paid every other time if he wanted to. He said we would figure it out. I also told him that I couldn't read his mind and I didn't know that he wanted help carrying things and if he needs something he should ask for it. "I doubt I was just sitting there watching you carry stuff out the door--I was doing something, too." (Indeed, in general, I was figuring out directions for where we were going each day.) I also said that as far as the "sloppy" thing, I grew up with a mother who would follow you around and if you put something down, two seconds later she would say, "Who put this here? I'm throwing it out." So I told him that I would eventually get to things--I always did--coffee rings and all. I told him if I were having a dinner party I wouldn't want anyone to do the dishes, I'd just do them later or the next day. He said he understood. Oh, I should also mention that the morning I called was my birthday. Happy Birthday to Me.

Red Flags: ...the thing was, and I didn't even realize it at the time, but even though I was the one to bring up that I was unhappy with his behavior, he had just deflected all of the attention away from himself and put it on me. We were no longer talking about my unhappiness with him and what he could do differently but what I could do differently...

Diagnosis: For him:....I'm sort of blind when it comes to manipulation--it's really hard for me to spot, but, as I've been told, in redirecting the conversation toward me and my problems, he's being manipulative and in being manipulative, he's showing me that he doesn't want to look at himself. There is no way his silences are about me, but something much bigger. As for when I said, "How do you think this is going?"... To be fair, I never should have phrased it like that--in terms of our whole relationship--but his answer was oddly defensive. It showed me he isn't going to show me any more than I was going to show him, even if he felt it. When he asked me if I didn't like doing things for men, which completely took me by surprise, it should have shown me where his mind was and I should have asked him, "Do you expect women to do things for you?" Because he seemed to expect me to be able to read his mind and anticipate his needs. What he's really saying is, "Can't you read my mind?" or "Aren't you going to do things for me?"

For me: Again, as for when I said, "How do you think this is going?"...Yes, I never should have phrased it like that, but in my defense, I was upset and I didn't know any better at the time. If I were to do it differently, I probably would have approached it completely differently, and maybe said, "Are you OK? You seem really quiet." Still, I doubt the result would have been any different.

In Retrospect: When he asked me if I didn't like doing things for men, I should have reminded him of how I spent 10+ hours editing his short stories and how we always stayed over at my place, which meant I had to make sure things were extra picked up. I hadn't realized I was supposed to be keeping track.