April 26, 2005

• What am I doing here?

  
  

  On of my favourite xangans, the eloquent and inimitable CazzaC, is hosting another round of Truth or Dare– and with the theme being “relationships,” this time, I managed to sucker myself into participating. Choosing what to write about presented quite a challenge– for me, TorD has never held much appeal unless it really forces me to “dig” and reveal something I am not necessarily “at ease with.” After some rumination, I came to the realization that the challenge of “Truth” question number 6: “Describe the dumbest relationship you ever got yourself into.  Why was it the dumbest?” would actually offer an interesting “coming to terms” with something I’ve never really been willing to discuss openly.

  
  

  You see, the sad truth is that the dumbest relationship I ever got myself into was a marriage I stayed in for 13 years! In the interest of not churning out a 500-page document as dull as the Internal Revenue Code, I’ll just stick to some of the “high points” that made the whole thing so incredibly idotic– a rather sharp departure from my usual state of denial which typically requires an “uh-huh” and vigorous nodding in response to the statement “13 years? That’s impressive! It must have been a pretty solid relationship.“

  
  

  Dumb fact #1: I met my ex (K) the month after I arrived in the US, after having spent my first 20 years in Europe. We met at a Stuporbowl party where we turned out to be the only two people under the age of 50. That, along with me being European and her having been to Europe, represented what we had in common. Period. Full stop. Pretty slim pickings.

  
  

  Dumb fact #2: I had zero self-esteem at the time. Zippo. Zilch. To the point where I thought ANYone of the opposite sex giving me the “time of the day” constituted a major upgrade of my social status. Pretty sad. OK, so I was pretty nerdy, and having spent my teen years among retirees, my “dating persona” was about 40 years older than my chronological age. Let’s be truthful here, folks– not a lot of young women are into dating their grandpa.

  
  

  Dumb fact #3: Lots of attention doeth not equal love. She got my phone number from the people who’d hosted the party, and called me in the guise of needing help with some class project. Had I had an ounce of sense, I would have noticed the incongruence of her asking for help with calculus, after me having “small talked” with her to the effect that math was one of my weakest areas. Well, as the days rolled by it was calculus, and it was this, and that, and lunch, and on and on. I suppose I wasn’t really a completely “unwilling” participant, since she was local AND had a car– and I was a newcomer who rode the bus, or my bike.

  
  

  Dumb fact #4: At no point during all this was I really hip to the fact that all this was “leading somewhere.” In fact, I wasn’t thinking about this person as anything but “a friend,” albeit a friend who seemed to have a pesky talent for “inserting herself” into my life with remarkable frequency. In fact, while K was trying to get my attention, I was (unsuccessfully) trying to get the attentions of three other women (calm down! Not at the same time, in sequence!), Brenda, Carol and Julie. Each time I got chinged, or dumped, K seemed to “insert herself” a little more.

  
  

  Fast forward a bit. Men are basically pigs. I am pretty convinced that the “nekkid chick test” is a core part of whether or most males consider someone to be serious ”date material.” If we aren’t visualizing you “au naturelle” about… oh, let’s say… every 75 seconds… we’re probably not that “into” you. Figuratively speaking, of course. Sheesh… gets your minds out of the gutter. Which leads us to:

  
  

  Dumb fact #5: I am not sure whether K failed the “nekkid chick test” or whether I simply hadn’t even thought about applying it to her. This, after several months of “pseudo-dating.” Not exactly the epitome of a “hot” relationship. Besides, the potential of “hot” was somewhat “limited,” anyway, by K’s discomfort/reluctance around sexual matters… wrapped in a “package” called “I am really more comfortable” with sex after marriage.

  
  

  Fast forward a lot more. Fast forward maybe a couple of years.

  
  

  Dumb fact #6: We ended up living together, but I am not sure exactly how it happened, other than it involved a great deal of enthusiasm on her part, and a feeling of “being swept along” on my part. It’s pretty dumb to live with someone when you’re looking around and pretty much every female you meet looks like “a better deal” than the person you’re with.

  
  

  Dumb fact #7: Let’s re-visit #3. “I am getting lots of attention, so I guess this must be love.” This probably marked the high point of my cluelessness, along with rejection of ANY and ALL my gut feelings. I recall sitting in the apartment with K, and she was talking about marriage, and house, and babies, and yadda, yadda…. and I can clearly remember a train of thought that went through my head: “So this is what being in love feels like? I don’t understand why all those people write so many books, and make all those movies about THIS. But then again, I guess that’s Hollywood, and this is real life.“

  
  

  Dumb fact #8: We got married. It just sort of “seemed to happen,” all by itself. She kept bringing it up, and I slowly ran out of reasons not to. That said, around the time of the wedding, I can clearly remember thinking how what was happening felt like I was watching a film of someone else’s life go by. And I remember the ongoing parade of thoughts about how what I was experiencing seemed to bear NO relation to what I had expected it to feel like. In a sense, it was like being a rock in the path of a glacier. Nothing “dramatic” ever took place, but I still was slowly being moved miles and miles off course– so slowly that I didn’t notice the landscape changing.

  
  

  Dumb fact #9: The marriage lasted 13 years! Thassright, boys and girls– you start with almost nothing and keep at it. I guess it was supported by a strange blend of K’s ongoing infatuation with maintaining her image as “a woman married to a cool and dashing European,” and my own ability to rationalize that even the most bizarre behavior was “probably normal, for married people.” Sleeping 14 hours a day is “normal.” You must accept someone “as they are,” even if almost every conversation puts you into an emotional double-bind. Besides, if you say “I do,” you “should” be committed to that vow. Even if you’re thinking that your life after suicide would be a whole lot more pleasant than your current living one….

  
  

  Retrospectively, I married someone who was a pretty good friend, and a pretty interesting person across a very limited bandwidth, to whom I was more or less not sexually attracted, who was never really– in my mind– ANYwhere close to the sort of person I’d hoped to marry, who pursued me relentlessly because of an overwhelming infatuation with “the image of me” (actually formed as an “imaginary person” before she met me) rather than the “actual” me, and then stayed there for 13 years, in spite of a vast number of psychological issues popping up like landmines, along the way. I lived with someone who was chronically depressed, a Borderline personality showing signs of PTSD, resulting from hildhood sexual molestation and possibly a rape in her teens, thoroughly manipulative and emotionally abusive. As I read this stuff…. it fills me with a mixture of shame… and wonder at just what level of pond scum I must have thought myself to be.

  
  

  I could reflect on all this at more length than anyone would care to read about. The whole thing was dumb, for more reasons than I am willing to admit to. And I still feel like I “owned” most of the stupidity. I was very angry, for quite a long time after we split up– first at K for her machinations, then at myself for my stupidity and codependence. Now I feel pretty neutral. I apologize to K for not having the wisdom and courage to pull the plug, before there was even talk of a bath– it was my own insecurity that allowed so much of the prime of our relationship lives to pass by, in a grey fog of indifference.

  
  

  At the same time, I also thank her– because without here I might not have started down the path to self-discovery. I even remember the exact comment that triggered the start of my journey, in earnest. I’ve been a runner since high school– it’s my preferred mode of exercise– it allows me to think in solitude, while getting a workout. One afternoon– I think I’d just about turned 30– I was about to leave, and I told K I was going out for a run. She snapped at me with the words “You only do that to make me feel bad about being overweight!” The words filled me with guilt, and while I ran, I started thinking about how everything would just resolve itself if I threw myself in front of a truck and died, while running. The following week I had my first appointment with a therapist….

  
  

   

  • 12:34 pm
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