I can't believe I haven't blogged about this yet. Two thursdays ago, I blew off my mandatory field trip to D.C. with my acting class to spend time with Andrew for the first time in almost a year. It was the weekend before Easter, and while everyone else was going home to spend time with family, I was trying to see if I could ever make a family with this person who had hurt me so cavernously before.
I was drunk when he showed up at ten o'clock, which, in retrospect, was not a great idea. My friend had turned the 80 degree day into the perfect Day-keg day, justifying it with "will we be able to do this when we graduate?" I figured I would only knock back a few, then sober up before he got there. This is partially what happened. Unfortunatly, not entirely...but hey. My nerves probably would have gotten the best of me. For weeks before he showed up, I asked him on the phone what an appropriate greeting would be when he finally came: would we hug? kiss? shake hands? What if he went in for a hug and I mistook it for a kiss and we felt awkward for the rest of the weekend? How do you say "Hello, so sorry you went missing all that time, it's nice to see you again, now that I'm completely screwed up on the inside as a direct result of you." You can't. Now you see why the day-keg was a necessity...These scenarios plagued my mind until five to six natty lights eased the pain.
When he knocked on my door, we hugged. We hugged for a long time, making up for lost hugs, hugs we could have had in the nine months he was gone. Neither of us knew what to expect from this visit and masked it as a simple tying of loose ends. We were both worried that the other would expect there to be feelings, but after nine months of limited communication including weekly letters and monthly phonecalls, how can one hope to retain feelings for another person?
After ten minutes of temporary awkwardness, we found ourselves sprawled out (fully clothed) on my bed, talking. I had craved this moment for a long time and it was satisfying to finally get the explanations I needed. I studied him while he explained his absence, his feelings, his adventures, his pain. His face was skinnier: his entire body was skinnier, actually. Except for his love handles (which he mentions frequently that he'll never rid himself of...something about it running in the family, which is ironic..).
He asked me to be his girlfriend again that night. "No," I said, point-blank. "Are you insane?"
To be his girlfriend again three weeks after he got out of the slammer would make me appear to be everything that everyone thought i was: a complete and total pushover. A girl with a silly crush on a boy who manipulated and treated her like shit. Couldn't live with that.
"At least wait until tomorrow night. I'll take you out on a date. Make your decision after you've seen how much I've changed."
Ok. I never turn down free food.
We had a great time. A perfect time, actually. I won't go into the details- it was your general opening doors, pulling out chairs, hand-holding good time. The only thing that separated us from a regular romantic date was the location: Ryan's, the fat-people buffet. Not your ideal intimate setting, but we had fun together which is what I loved about him.
When we got home that night, we watched a movie, curled up together in my bed and shared Busch pounders. Again, the ideal textbook romance? Not in the slightest. But I was never happier. He asked me again and I was forced to say "no" yet again, but I knew I wanted him exclusively. The thought of his big square hands enveloping anyone else's fingers drove me half crazy.
Since then, we've talked every night and made plans to rekindle our relationship, hopefully. He's trying to understand the line between funny and prick and I'm trying to stop drinking and making out with strangers. We've got a long, unconvential road ahead, but are willing to try.
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On a slightly unrelated note (hence the above squigglies), I found a blog post from a month ago from another social networking site (I Know!! What a traitor, I am!) This blog outlines my weightloss plan. Here is the entry.
after a rough day of playing therapist to everyone and their brother, my roommate and i decided to hit up WIBS, the bar we share a parking lot with, for vodka cranberries and a game or two of pool. while there, we chain-smoked cigarettes and got a teeny bit more drunk than we had anticipated. it doesn’t help that the bartender is a friend and makes all drinks incredibly strong.
I left the bar around 11:30 to take a phone call from my ex-boyfriend who is supposed to visit me tonight to attempt to rekindle our relationship. Sidenote: this is a terrible idea because he was no Jim Halpert (though he sometimes gets mistaken for him in the looks department…) and treated me like crap. Lately, he’s been trying to control his asshole-tendencies but is failing miserably.
WHAT, you may ask, does this have anything to do with dieting?
WELL: during our conversation, which was supposed to be brief and include only travel plans for today, he told me that he was not sure about continuing our relationship BECAUSE our children would have to rely on his gene pool to avoid being FAT and PASTEY.
So, the drunken wheels began to turn in my head, and I pictured a daughter, my unborn daughter, playing on a little league team or jumping off a rope swing into a lake…and yeah, in my head, she’s a little chubby…but the thought of being with someone who wouldn’t love our daughter because of her physical appearance disgusted me and quite literally broke my heart. I would think that a valuable human being (who is supposed to be in love with me) would love our daughter EVEN MORE because she looked just like me.
After this conversation, I ate two turkey sandwiches with disgusting amount of mayonnaise, passed out on my couch, and skipped my 11 o’clock existentialism class. I then went to the dining hall (which i never do) and ate a cheese steak (extra cheese, extra everything) a cup of strawberry shortcake, and spinach bruschetta. And fries. Also, two cups of Dr. Pepper.
I now hate my life and my body and am not doing so hot on my second day.
What do I do with that? I keep it close to my heart. I remember the italics and the pain I felt and I remember that if he ever says something like that to me again, that I'm out the door.
I love him more than the world, but I love myself too. I won't sacrifice myself again. Hopefully he stays the way he is now and hopefully its not an act that I'm mesmerized by.
"I won't have fat ugly babies, will I, Abby?"
"No," she texted back. "Your babies will be beautiful and come out of the womb telling jokes. I love you."
I'm just going to marry her.
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