Mr. Unavailable #111: Hamptons Getaway, Day 3

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 and Day 2 for the background on this one.

Day 3: We got up and, again, I made coffee. I showered while he made made scrambled eggs, and when I came downstairs he had birthday presents wrapped on the table for me. He told me he'd contacted Heidi on Facebook to find out what I might like. A few weeks earlier, Heidi had quizzed me about what I wanted for my birthday in a way no one ever had before and I never put the pieces together. I was deeply touched by the effort he'd put into it. He got me a few things but when he gave me one box in particular, he said he thought that I was more of a delicate jewelry girl and that I might like it. It was a gorgeous silver and pearl necklace from the MOMA store. The card he gave me, which I opened with great anticipation, was just signed with his name. Now, I know it's unrealistic to expect a declaration of love in a greeting card, but I was looking for something, anything. We were at the point where something needed to be said. I was ready to go there, but I was too afraid to take the leap first and he didn't appear to be doing it. It was strange, he was perfectly fine saying he missed me after just a few dates but suddenly all of those kinds of declarations even had stopped.

He brought breakfast out to the patio. Another lovely breakfast. I felt so safe, so taken care of. I always did with him. The night before the porch motion-detector light suddenly went off and he got up, said, "Stay here" and went and checked it out. Again, sometimes he leaves me speechless. Oh, and it was pretty hot, too.

We figured out our plan for the day: relaxing on the patio for as long as we wanted--talking--then hit the antiques fair in Southampton and go to the beach. The antiques fair was smaller than the one the day before and definitely a lower-rent event, which worked well for us. I found an aquamarine ring that could substitute somewhat for the $1,800 one I had to forgo the day before. He bought sno-cones for us and we had a woman who I bought clip-on earrings from take a picture of us--both of us happy, the sun bright, him smiling in his Economy Candy T-shirt with his arm around me, the wind blowing my hair.

Because we'd gotten such a late start, we reached the beach late and they weren't taking anymore people, so we drove to the bay beach near the house and set up by the water as the sun went down. We read, I picked rocks that looked like Jordan almonds and other candies and showed them to him. After a few hours we packed up and went back to the house where I somewhat ironically donned an apron and started putting together my specialty dish from about a decade ago--the Moosewood Cookbook's eggplant parmesan. At that point, he appeared to check out mentally--who knows, maybe he had already checked out earlier in the day, possibly at the beach or sometime right before--to go sit in the other room and watch TV and I began to feel like my parents. I asked if he would help cut stuff so we ate before midnight and, at first, he acted annoyed. I was clearly upset and he snapped out of his annoyance for a minute, asking if I was nervous. I said yes. He said he liked helping in the kitchen.

We went back to our various tasks, but something was still off. I didn't sense he was liking helping at all. He was quiet--not content-quiet but distant-quiet. I know the difference. He went back to sitting on the couch and I had a flash of memory. I was suddenly launched back in time about 25 years and I was my mother, making dinner in the kitchen, with my father--now being played by #111--stoically and uncommunicatively sitting in the family room watching TV. My mother was angry, my father was unreachable. My parents terrified me and it was being played out 25 years later right here in the Hamptons. It was horrifying. I went to the bathroom, burst into tears and realized: "I can never have children with this man because he would terrify them."

I managed to put myself back together a bit. I asked if he'd like to hear my favorite Glasvegas song, he said, "Sure," I put it on and he proceeded to show zero interest in listening to it or any of my other music, so I turned it off. We sat down to dinner and he was definitely off somewhere else mentally. I tried a couple of methods to bring him back: first, 20 questions; second, playing therapist: "Did your dad scare you when you were a kid?" I asked.
"He terrified me," he said.

About a million little pieces clicked into place. He went on to say how he used to be like his father--how he would tell people what they were supposed to do or what they were doing wrong, but, he said, he wasn't like that anymore. He said his father was unreachable, distant, uncommunicative. It was terrible. He was still like his father but he had no idea.

We retired to the living room to watch a movie and still, he was distant, so I tried a third tactic to get him to come back: becoming twice as distant as he was, going twice as far away. And guess what. It worked. "Hey, are you OK?" he asked. I said I was fine and moved closer to him on the sofa but all I could think was: "I can't believe that fucking worked."

Signs of Hope: During the daylight hours, everything was wonderful. He exhibit a level of patience and caring I found tremendously attractive.
Red Flags: During the nighttime hours, he went away, became someone else, like Mr. Hyde.

Diagnosis: For him: A second, unattractive personality is showing through--and he's not at all aware that it even exists.
For me: I think I'm dating my parents, and I am horrified. If the only way I can reach him is to become twice as emotionally distant as he is...then, well, I can't live like that.