Mr. Unavailable #111: Knocking Him Off His Pedestal

To start from the beginning of the Mr. 111 story, see (in this order) 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, The Appointment, The Sad Ultrasound, In Between Appointments, The Last Breakfast and Arizona Convalescence for the background on this one.

I feel like this is some sort of weird confession. After recounting everything that happened with #111 and trying to get over him, I kind of relapsed. I fully believe it was best for my sanity's sake--and it was fully endorsed by my shrink, so I feel justified.

Here's what happened:

About a week and a half before Thanksgiving, I dragged myself into my shrink's office, collapsed on her couch and recounted my level of depression: going to bed early...in my clothes...with the lights on...without having washed up. It was bad (see Suicidal Tendencies). I told her I didn't even think I was depressed about #111 anymore, that it wasn't even about him. I was depressed about this being a cycle of mine and I predicted I'd probably pick another guy just like him and repeat the cycle all over again. So, I theorized, I was holding onto the idea that #111 would change and come back so then I wouldn't have to go through all of this all over again. Because if I had to go through all of this again, I don't know if I'd survive it.

I'm not sure exactly when in the session it came up, but at some point she suggested I actually give #111 a call to see how he was doing. It had been three weeks, she said, it seemed like a good time.

"Seriously?" I said. It seemed crazy. "Wouldn't that be chasing him?"

"Are you showing up on his doorstep?" she said. "No? Then you're not chasing him."

She went on to say that I was changing my attachment patterns. Instead of withdrawing when other people withdraw--which is an old survival mechanism but, ultimately, makes me miserable and creates a pedestal for the person--I was keeping engaged. I had to admit, the idea of getting in touch with him made me very happy. She said I just had to try not to have any expectations around it and if I was doing it as a means of being friends (as #111 and I had agreed to be) then I should just try to keep it at that in my mind--from moment to moment--if I could.

I decided to give him a call on Saturday. When Saturday morning arrived, I was in a terrific mood. Previously barely functioning, I was hyper-functional, getting things done that I hadn't been able to in weeks--making trips to the Salvation Army, doing long-ignored errands, cleaning... Around 4 p.m., I sat down and went to call him and realized that theoretically calling him made me happy; actually calling him terrified me. I was pretty sure he would let it go to voicemail, but I wasn't sure how I would feel after I'd left a message. Heidi was having her safari party that night, so I knew I'd have something to do to keep my mind off of things if I was in a bad place but I feared the bad place. I went to dial and dialed Heidi instead. She had me practice what I was going to say to him.

When we hung up, I called him. As I suspected, he let it go to voicemail. My message went something like this. "Hi [#38]. It's Tara. I was just calling to see how you were doing...how your birthday was...if you ever got that Pop Tart T-shirt you wanted...I would love to hear from you when you have a chance...hope you're well...bye."

When I hung up, half of me was like, "Why the fuck did I just do that? Do I really even care?" And the other half of me just thought what I'd done was incredibly brave. I hadn't anticipated my own reaction. I was actually proud of myself. I was also pretty sure that if it took that much courage for me to call him, then, since it had become very clear to me early on in our dating that he was afraid of the phone (see The Phone Call), there was no way he was going to have the balls to call me back and he'd probably just email me back. It sort of felt like a dare, as in, "Look what I just did, buddy. I dare you to call me back." Instead of sending me into some kind of despairing bad place, calling him felt awesome.

As predicted, he emailed me. Monday morning. "Well, congratulations on knowing him really well," Heidi said.

His email was friendly, teasing, kind of like how it had been in the early days when we first emailed. It took me two days to email him back--mostly because I was trying to figure out whether or not I wanted to ask him to get together. I decided against it, fearing a no. Instead, I mentioned my new job and the only good things about it (the frozen yogurt machine and the fact that I had my own office). The next email from him was even jokier, and with a mean edge, which, I remembered, is him. He was surprised that I'd gotten a job so fast and said a few other things that I interpreted as condescending. I emailed my shrink about it and she said it sounded more jealous/competitive than anything. As usual, she was probably right.

We went back and forth one more time and I pulled the trigger, saying I'd like to catch up in person sometime and maybe we could go for lunch or dinner in a few weeks. Again, as soon as I'd done it, knowing what I know about him, I wondered why I was bothering. And then, a few hours after that, contradiction struck and I was fearful he'd say no.

Whatever my motives, which are even mysterious to me, my timing on sending the email was strategic. I suspected he had therapy on Fridays and, choosing to believe that his therapist was on my side (naturally, she was on his side, but in being on his side, she was actually on my side), I sent the email on Thursday and prayed I wouldn't hear from him until Friday afternoon. At about 3 p.m. Friday, I got an email from him. He said maybe we could go to lunch in a few weeks. I was shocked--I wasn't surprised that he'd opted for lunch over dinner, but I was surprised that he would want to meet at all. I also thought he sounded kind of depressed and wondered if he'd composed the email while he was actually in therapy (maybe I'm not the only one who does that).

That was about three weeks ago. I've decided to wait until after the new year to get in touch with him about it again, which I suspect I will have to do. New Year's is way too loaded a time to be getting in touch with an ex. He's a man of his word with everything except relationship commitment, so I suspect he'll keep his promise to meet up, although I have no idea why he wants to do it, unless he does in fact want to be friends...

Diagnosis: ...I have to admit I'm still wondering why I want to meet up with him. Maybe because I'm unable to let go. Maybe because it is actually good for me to change my attachment behavior. Maybe because I still have hope that he will snap out of his emotional immaturity and I won't have to move on to the next unavailable man and repeat history. Probably all of the above.

In the meantime, being in touch with him has somehow freed me up to entertain other dating options. It does seem counter-intuitive: When it felt like he was unreachable, like I'd lost him, like I wasn't allowed to be in touch with him, I wasn't able to move on. But being in touch with him and seeing he's still the same guy has helped knock him off of his pedestal; I am actually able to entertain the possibility of other guys. Yes, completely counter-intuitive.