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.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Mr. Unavailable #111: Hamptons Getaway, Day 2
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 and Hamptons Getaway, Day 1 for the background on this one.
Day 2: We woke up in the morning. I made the coffee, he made the breakfast. It was lovely. he, indeed, made excellent scrambled eggs, as advertised. Fluffy and moist but not too moist. We sat outside on the patio talking for a few hours. We're really good at talking--about family, friends, theorizing on growing old and relationships. Eventually, we decided to make a plan for the day and decided to take it easy and head to Westhampton for an art show and then hit East Hampton for an antiques fair. It was truly a perfect day. If it hasn't come out by now, I should mention I have a little bit of a dark side. A mild example of that is that whenever fall is starting to hit and the temperature is a perfect 70-something and there's not a cloud in the blue-blue sky, I always think, "It's a September 11th Day"--as if I know that even a harmless beautiful day could turn horribly dark at any moment.
As we drove, I was telling him about my Montauk summer share, which had me missing some weekends with him in the city. i told him there were two left but they were all the way into the end of September and October. He said, "That's the best time to go." I said, "Do you want to go?" He said, "Sure" and told me to just email him the dates.
We drove the Mini, which I'd not-so-cleverly nicknamed "Coop," to Westhampton and walked between the stalls at the art show, stopping occasionally to surreptitiously critique the art, leaning together to whisper in each others' ears, using our secret collusion as an excuse to get close. Afterward, we walked down the main street, stopping to sit in the gazebo at the end. He had his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder as he told me about his classes that had just started and the students in them. A family that had been chased from the beach due to the strong winds was making a picnic in the gazebo and offered us some, which we declined. But I sat there, seeing us from their point of view. And what they were seeing was exactly how it felt--a couple if not in love, then on the brink of it. I pride myself on being fairly un-mushy, so I kind of make myself a little sick to say this, but: There really could not have been a more perfect moment.
We wandered back down main street toward the car, finding a bakery and an ice cream shop on the way where he indulged my affection for sweets as well as his own, buying ridiculously indulgent goodies--not just apple danishes but full-on apple dumplings and not just regular cones of ice cream but cookie cones full of ice cream--with him popping Tic-Tacs from his gigantic Tic-Tac box between and after. We drove to the antiques fair, catching the last 45 minutes. I fell in love with an $1,800 aquamarine ring and he found a 100-year-old silver credit-card (back then: calling-card) case. Both were out of our price ranges. We got back in the car and before we drove away, I said, "Wait a minute, come here tic-tac boy" and kissed him.
That night he made us sandwiches and grew distant again. We watched movies and it was hard to get him to come back. Eventually, we went to bed, chastely (same as the night before). Saying he still was not feeling well, he apologized for "not being the sexual dynamo" I was used to.
Signs of Hope: All day. It was a lovely day.
Red Flags: The evening distances. Our ever-so-chaste evenings.
Diagnosis: For him: Oh those distances.
For me: I'm alternately happy and, when he gets distant, afraid.
Day 2: We woke up in the morning. I made the coffee, he made the breakfast. It was lovely. he, indeed, made excellent scrambled eggs, as advertised. Fluffy and moist but not too moist. We sat outside on the patio talking for a few hours. We're really good at talking--about family, friends, theorizing on growing old and relationships. Eventually, we decided to make a plan for the day and decided to take it easy and head to Westhampton for an art show and then hit East Hampton for an antiques fair. It was truly a perfect day. If it hasn't come out by now, I should mention I have a little bit of a dark side. A mild example of that is that whenever fall is starting to hit and the temperature is a perfect 70-something and there's not a cloud in the blue-blue sky, I always think, "It's a September 11th Day"--as if I know that even a harmless beautiful day could turn horribly dark at any moment.
As we drove, I was telling him about my Montauk summer share, which had me missing some weekends with him in the city. i told him there were two left but they were all the way into the end of September and October. He said, "That's the best time to go." I said, "Do you want to go?" He said, "Sure" and told me to just email him the dates.
We drove the Mini, which I'd not-so-cleverly nicknamed "Coop," to Westhampton and walked between the stalls at the art show, stopping occasionally to surreptitiously critique the art, leaning together to whisper in each others' ears, using our secret collusion as an excuse to get close. Afterward, we walked down the main street, stopping to sit in the gazebo at the end. He had his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder as he told me about his classes that had just started and the students in them. A family that had been chased from the beach due to the strong winds was making a picnic in the gazebo and offered us some, which we declined. But I sat there, seeing us from their point of view. And what they were seeing was exactly how it felt--a couple if not in love, then on the brink of it. I pride myself on being fairly un-mushy, so I kind of make myself a little sick to say this, but: There really could not have been a more perfect moment.
We wandered back down main street toward the car, finding a bakery and an ice cream shop on the way where he indulged my affection for sweets as well as his own, buying ridiculously indulgent goodies--not just apple danishes but full-on apple dumplings and not just regular cones of ice cream but cookie cones full of ice cream--with him popping Tic-Tacs from his gigantic Tic-Tac box between and after. We drove to the antiques fair, catching the last 45 minutes. I fell in love with an $1,800 aquamarine ring and he found a 100-year-old silver credit-card (back then: calling-card) case. Both were out of our price ranges. We got back in the car and before we drove away, I said, "Wait a minute, come here tic-tac boy" and kissed him.
That night he made us sandwiches and grew distant again. We watched movies and it was hard to get him to come back. Eventually, we went to bed, chastely (same as the night before). Saying he still was not feeling well, he apologized for "not being the sexual dynamo" I was used to.
Signs of Hope: All day. It was a lovely day.
Red Flags: The evening distances. Our ever-so-chaste evenings.
Diagnosis: For him: Oh those distances.
For me: I'm alternately happy and, when he gets distant, afraid.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Mr. Unavailable #111: Hamptons Getaway, Day 1
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 and Meeting the Friends, Part 2 for the background on this one.
Pre-Date: I was hoping that since I figured out everything about the weekend--where we were going, where we were staying, what we were doing--that he would take the initiative to rent the car. Then I got an email from him that said everything he was finding was really expensive and could I ask around to find out if anyone knew a cheap place. Long story short: I arranged the car rental and figured out all the logistics (we were renting it from the airport and had to get there). Do I sound annoyed? If not, I am. We also had a date scheduled for the Wednesday before the weekend and he canceled it, saying he didn't feel so great and he had a lot to do. The night before we were supposed to leave, he said he was feeling terrible. I told him we didn't have to go the next day if he wasn't up for it. He said he still wanted to go.
Date #21, Day 1 (Labor Day Weekend): When I met up with him on the corner of Lexington and 125th, he was nervous. I could tell. I'm definitely beginning to think his "intense" thing he claims to have is just a cover for the fact that he has feelings and doesn't want to show them. He "flinches" just as much as I do, he is just better at covering it up. We rode the bus and he casually mentioned that on an interview he mentioned me--said that they had asked about his "girlfriend." It was the first time he used the word; it did not go unnoticed. I did a little internal happy dance.
At the car rental place, they offered us the red Cooper Mini parked for show out front. I jumped at it. #111 was in a sort of grumpy old-man mood, checking the car for dents etc. and then trying to figure out how to start it. He seemed to get rather easily frustrated. All set to navigate, I told him where to go. Grumpily, he didn't believe me. I assured him it was the right direction. Once on the road, he seemed to ease into things a bit.
It was interesting to see him drive. Here was a big, muscle-y, square-jawed guy who looked like he'd love strip clubs and hookers (see Date# 11) and he was driving the speed limit. He was also driving the speed limit in the passing lane. Finally, unable to control myself any longer, I said, teasing, "You know there's a long line of cars behind us that want to get by you." He laughed and shrugged, acknowledging what I called his "careful driving" (I later told him I liked it). Unfortunately, we hit another proverbial bump in the road a little while later. We were talking about something and he suddenly came out with something along the lines of claiming I wasn't "grateful." I got offended and became silent. When he asked what was wrong, I told him I didn't like what he said. He said he was just teasing.
Everything smoothed out despite the torrential downpour of Hurricane Earl. We had a nice drive to the house and when we got there he became distant again and, again, was being not nice. I was clearly upset and he stopped me in the kitchen and gave me a hug. Again, things got better. That night, we went to dinner in Southampton and talked about people in relationships and getting old in those relationships over burgers and salad. Then we came back to the house to watch Dexter. He'd brought it so that we could watch it together, which I thought was sweet. I made popcorn and he said it was the best popcorn he'd ever had.
Diagnosis: For him: I'm sort of baffled that he couldn't just rent the car. He was with someone for four and a half years and he never figured out how to rent a car? Maybe she did everything. It's possible. Plus, his jab about me being "ungrateful" isn't just teasing. I know the difference between a tease and a jab, and this isn't a tease. I'm starting to see that he has a mean streak that he disguises--or tries to disguise--as a sense of humor.
For me: My insecurities flare up and go away, flare up and go away. I am not happy with his inability to adapt. The whole grumpy old man thing is losing it's charm.
Pre-Date: I was hoping that since I figured out everything about the weekend--where we were going, where we were staying, what we were doing--that he would take the initiative to rent the car. Then I got an email from him that said everything he was finding was really expensive and could I ask around to find out if anyone knew a cheap place. Long story short: I arranged the car rental and figured out all the logistics (we were renting it from the airport and had to get there). Do I sound annoyed? If not, I am. We also had a date scheduled for the Wednesday before the weekend and he canceled it, saying he didn't feel so great and he had a lot to do. The night before we were supposed to leave, he said he was feeling terrible. I told him we didn't have to go the next day if he wasn't up for it. He said he still wanted to go.
Date #21, Day 1 (Labor Day Weekend): When I met up with him on the corner of Lexington and 125th, he was nervous. I could tell. I'm definitely beginning to think his "intense" thing he claims to have is just a cover for the fact that he has feelings and doesn't want to show them. He "flinches" just as much as I do, he is just better at covering it up. We rode the bus and he casually mentioned that on an interview he mentioned me--said that they had asked about his "girlfriend." It was the first time he used the word; it did not go unnoticed. I did a little internal happy dance.
At the car rental place, they offered us the red Cooper Mini parked for show out front. I jumped at it. #111 was in a sort of grumpy old-man mood, checking the car for dents etc. and then trying to figure out how to start it. He seemed to get rather easily frustrated. All set to navigate, I told him where to go. Grumpily, he didn't believe me. I assured him it was the right direction. Once on the road, he seemed to ease into things a bit.
It was interesting to see him drive. Here was a big, muscle-y, square-jawed guy who looked like he'd love strip clubs and hookers (see Date# 11) and he was driving the speed limit. He was also driving the speed limit in the passing lane. Finally, unable to control myself any longer, I said, teasing, "You know there's a long line of cars behind us that want to get by you." He laughed and shrugged, acknowledging what I called his "careful driving" (I later told him I liked it). Unfortunately, we hit another proverbial bump in the road a little while later. We were talking about something and he suddenly came out with something along the lines of claiming I wasn't "grateful." I got offended and became silent. When he asked what was wrong, I told him I didn't like what he said. He said he was just teasing.
Everything smoothed out despite the torrential downpour of Hurricane Earl. We had a nice drive to the house and when we got there he became distant again and, again, was being not nice. I was clearly upset and he stopped me in the kitchen and gave me a hug. Again, things got better. That night, we went to dinner in Southampton and talked about people in relationships and getting old in those relationships over burgers and salad. Then we came back to the house to watch Dexter. He'd brought it so that we could watch it together, which I thought was sweet. I made popcorn and he said it was the best popcorn he'd ever had.
Diagnosis: For him: I'm sort of baffled that he couldn't just rent the car. He was with someone for four and a half years and he never figured out how to rent a car? Maybe she did everything. It's possible. Plus, his jab about me being "ungrateful" isn't just teasing. I know the difference between a tease and a jab, and this isn't a tease. I'm starting to see that he has a mean streak that he disguises--or tries to disguise--as a sense of humor.
For me: My insecurities flare up and go away, flare up and go away. I am not happy with his inability to adapt. The whole grumpy old man thing is losing it's charm.
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