2000-08-17 | 03:37:04

ok, folks. i promise that it's almost over. let's give colin powell his medal of honor and get the hell back home. we're just this entry away from a cease-fire on desert storm.

before i proceed, i have a confession to make. all this time i've been bitching about men and their intimacy issues. kvetching even. ok, here it is...the black spot on my secret heart...i, myself, have intimacy issues. takes one to know one, right? yes, me. and you thought i was all self-actualized and shit. bah! no, my dears, no. i'm one screwed up mo fo. but i'm clever see? i disguise my intimacy problems by choosing men who have a worse case of it than i do. that way i look normal by comparison. damn! i'm clever.

it's not that i can't be monogamous or don't want someone special. once in awhile, i have been known to buy a brides' magazine to daydream about what dress i'd pick. but the reality of it? walking down the aisle to meet my forever destiny? *gulp* holy matrimony? holy shit!

tonight while driving home, i had a flashback of taking a quiz in one of my mom's "cosmopolitan" magazines. i was about 12 or 13. one of the multiple choice questions asked that the reader pick a preferred sex fantasy out of a list of four. i can't remember the other three choices, but i remember the one i chose. to be part of a royal harem. i remember really liking the idea! getting pampered, being put on a pedestal, but not being fully responsible for the alpha male's happiness. just being one of his special treats on occasion. the comfortable lifestyle with a fraction of the work. how intimacy-phobic is that?!

so that off my chest...let's tear desert storm a new one!

as i mentioned earlier, he had begun a propaganda campaign against me. he was preparing a way out of our relationship.

he had poured over espionage documents containing vital information on the perceived enemy. his mission? to find a fatal flaw in me that he could hang his hat on when it came time to tell his friends why his "partner in crime" had been retired from the force. dishonorable discharge for me, purple heart for him.

the christmas before we broke up, i had a bad feeling in me gut. i had thought of breaking up with desert storm on more than one occasion, but i loved him and was worried that dumping him would only exacerbate his depression problem. i figured i would be the one who stuck through the muck. his only other long relationship had ended after 11 months. it became my personal goal to beat that record. silly, huh?

i went away for a week or so to visit my folks. i only called him once during the trip. i felt that i needed to play it cool. something was rotten in denmark and refrigeration was the only way to contain the stench. when i returned from my trip and walked into his apartment, he took me to the floor and mauled me (in a good way!). afterwards, as we held each other, he asked how long i planned to stay at my parents in the future. "five minutes," i answered. he nodded, "that's right."

then he showered me with gifts. showered. the boy was a known cheapskate, but he had really outdone himself with the presents he bestowed upon me. an embarassment of riches, to be sure. i wondered what had prompted it. guilt? realization that he hadn't been treating me so nice?

over the year we were dating, i had been working freelance. i was very fortunate and had had a good income coming in, but when a full-time job opportunity presented itself, i wanted to go for the sure thing. the steady paycheck. he thought i was crazy to give up the freedom of freelance to be tied to a desk. i explained i liked being tied up.

i remember we were discussing the choice i was about to make in a heated conversation as we walked in his moonlit neighborhood.

"if you take that job, i can't see you anymore," he said, every word biting with acid.

that manifesto hit me like a punch in the gut. stung like a whole swarm of bees. my eyes teared up. how could he threaten our relationship like that? over something so mundane as a job? it wasn't like i was about to take a position where i'd be clubbing baby seals.

the catch, you ask? ah, yes. the catch. well, all this time, he was living in santa monica. i, about an hour east. i was a safe distance away. a weekend-only girlfriend. the new job was in santa monica. i would have to move. close. i would have access to him on a regular basis. suffocating access, he feared, i know, even though he denied it fiercely. it was obvious.

i took the job on a part-time basis and began looking for an apartment. he later told me that he hadn't meant what he had said about breaking up with me if i took the job. he was just making a point, he said. yeah, right. yeah, wrong. the phrase manipulative prick comes to mind.

hmm...speaking of manipulation. one more bad story. aw, i know i'm killing you here, but just one more?! this one actually has a happy ending.

desert storm lived in a small apartment building. his next door neighbor was a fresh-faced cutie. her being female, she was a flirt target. her being a cute, sweet female made her a double threat. he and she would chat and occasionally get drinks. he would hardly ever tell me about when they went out because of the "jealousy problem." well, keeping secrets ain't no way to handle a significant other's insecurities, no matter how overblown.

of course, i had insecurities. but not freakish ones. normal ones. human ones. instead of reassuring me in ever-so-simple ways, he tossed malatov cocktails at my achilles heel.

i was jealous of neighbor girl. i barely knew her. she was always super sweet to me. it wasn't her fault he was using her to create a sick little triangle that drove a little wedge between us. i knew the problem was him. i was staying rational about it. breathing deeply. finding a focal point.

one night we were supposed to join her and some friends for an "aliens" viewing party. when i came over to his pad, he was tired. he had just finished comforting a distraught friend who had just broken up with his girlfriend.

desert storm had been asked by the weeping romeo to deliver a letter of apology to his lost love. desert storm felt he would be too tired for the video party after delivering the missive. that was fine with me. a quiet night sounded good. but when neighbor girl stopped by to see if we were ready, he didn't tell her we weren't going. it was so awkward! she could tell something was up, but he didn't offer any explanation. the plan became that we would meet her at the video-watching house. i couldn't figure out why he had chickened out. it fed the fuels of my fear that he really might like her. he was just so tongue-tied and foot-hopping around her. i'd never seen him act that way before.

so we delivered the note. on the way home, he confirmed that he was too tired for the movie night.

"can i tell neighbor girl we didn't go because you don't like her?" he asked.

"no!" i answered, shocked.

"c'mon, you know you don't like the girls," he replied, referring to his circle of women friends.

"no! it's not true! please don't tell her that!"

"oh, i won't."

the next morning, he mentioned that we should visit neighbor girl and apologize for flaking. i was relieved that he was including me in the apology. i still harbored the sneaking fear that he would pull the "my girlfriend doesn't like you" line if i wasn't there to defend myself.

it was time for me to take a shower.

"i'll do some laundry while you're getting ready," he said nonchalantly, but his voice was weird, strained.

as i did my bathroom prep, i could hear their voices in the hallway. he was telling her on his own. hmmmm. ok. then a door closing and no more voices. i took my shower. crying in the suds. why was he doing this to me? i finished getting ready. waited for him to return. more than an hour had passed. i was so sad. so disappointed. all insecurities aside, it seemed rude to me that he would leave me waiting alone for so long. our weekend time together was short enough as it was. sure, i was his girlfriend, but still a guest!

he came back with food for us. ah, i thought, my silly suspicions were wrong. what a bad girlfriend, i am, i thought. mistrusting. misreading. misunderstanding. then he mentioned that he and neighbor girl had gone on a walk to take back the video. he had picked up food for us on the way back.

then i did a bad, bad thing. in the emotion of the moment i said something truly dumb: "you know, your friendship with neighbor girl is bothering me." dumb! dumb! dumb! first, that wasn't it at all. the friendship was fine. it was the rude, careless way he was acting that was the problem. well, as you might expect, he blew a gasket. he even closed his sliding glass door to keep the neighbors from hearing the rant about to spew from his lips.

"i knew this was coming," he spat. "you are a jealous freak. you will NOT tell me who i can and can't be friends with. you have problems! i will not be controlled by you! this has happened time and time again with girlfriends. i cannot continue to see you unless you get counseling. i'm serious!"

this went on for quite awhile. he was a browbeating pro and had been lecturing me on a once-a-week basis about business decisions he thought i had made incorrectly, etc. so yes, more ranting. more browbeating.

i was a wimp. i tried to speak up saying that i would never try to control who his friends were, that i had made a mistake, etc., but he was more powerful. a steamroller against a lint brush. i lost. big time. i was apologetic. pathetic, even.

i promised i would get counseling. and i did. i could only go once a month with my health plan. that wasn't often enough to do any good in his opinion. he had been doing weekly therapy sessions for five years (and was still at this point in the communication continuum! yikes!). so i switched to a weekly support group.

"why are you so afraid that your boyfriend is going to break up with you?" the group leader would ask, assuming i was basing my fear on an irrational thought or belief. i couldn't express the truth, that my paranoia of being dumped was based on the irrational behavior of my boy toy. why i cared a bit about being dumped by such a hard-hearted browbeater is beyond me.

(don't worry, that happy ending i promised you earlier is still coming. thanks for hanging in there with me. really. we're almost there yet, kids!)

so, the dating continued, the couseling continued. desert storm had begun to take anti-depressants. things were actually getting better. it was as if the ugly part of his personality was fading away, leaving all the good stuff in its wake. this was the desert storm i had fallen in love with! ah! hope springs eternal! i made it past the 11-month mark. woohoo! i was victorious in the hall of ex's. and an ex was what i was shortly to become.

my apartment hunt had intensified after three months of a three-hour round-trip commute in bumper-to-bumper traffic. i was considering justifiable homicide as a stress relief technique.

desert storm was a bit worried about my move, as i mentioned before. at one point, he suggested that i relocate to another apartment in the same far-away town i was already living in. what?! i told him not to worry, that i wouldn't be doing unannounced drop-bys. i hate drop-bys. he said i was being ridiculous to even suggest that that was a concern of his. ridiculous like a fox.

i found an apartment. he gave a lukewarm congratulations. two days went by. i didn't hear from him. that was odd. we talked frequently. i began to get worried that something might have happened to him. i left messages. "just call to let me know you're ok." he did call. said he was fine, but would have to call back later. i felt a bad moon rising. i went to my group therapy knowing i would probably be one boyfriend lighter in the next week's session. i didn't bring it up during the meeting. another woman rambled about her job's politics. thank god. a reprieve from reality.

i got home. he called. the sun was dropping into sunset approach. my favorite time of day. his, too.

he said, "you go first." i told him that there were things he was doing that didn't seem like the things a good boyfriend would be doing. then came an earful from him.

he had meticulously prepared his case against me. he began to tick off the list of my flaws. the jealousy issue was his star witness. then he gutted me with two knives that twisted in my belly for weeks: "my friends don't feel comfortable around you. my neighbor thinks you hate her." motherfuck what?!!!

yep, the old propaganda campaign had created its casualties. our relationship being among them. he had told his friends that i didn't want him to spend time with them instead of me. had told her that i was incredibly jealous of her. who knows what else he told. desert storm's mandible had been gnawing away at the ties of our affection for months. the wolf had chewed off his own paw to escape a perceived trap.

"i still love you, i just can't be your boyfriend anymore."

his parting words.

i tried to argue him back, but he was steely strong. we decided we would still be friends. "of course we will," he said. the prosecution rested.

a couple days passed. i began to realize that i had not put up a very good fight in my defense. the ole lint brush had been crushed by the steamroller once again. i then wrote two letters to him. one with a pen and notebook in my lap as i did one of my final commuting laps--the lines crooked from writing on the road. i spoke my peace. told him what i felt he had contributed to the destruction. honest, painfully honest, but not vindictive. bittersweet, for sure. each ended with me saying i hoped we could still be friends.

he took it as slanderous. we spoke once on the phone after the letters. cold, hammered-thin fire flared in his voice. unless i took back what i had said in the letters, we could no longer communicate. i wouldn't take it back. couldn't. no point in taking back the truth. i had to stake this one last show of strength in a relationship where i had done nothing but wimp out on myself at every critical juncture.

it took me a motherfuckin' year to get over that bastard. they say it takes half the time you were together to recover. not for me. part of the pain was that i was so disappointed in myself. i had let me down. devastating. desert storm's strange after-effects echoed. and echoed and echoed. just when i thought the symptoms were gone...a painful, tearful relapse.

then, like newt boy, i got bettah.

but, ah yes, the happy ending. well, i had always felt like crap that neighbor girl was somewhere in the world with this horribly wrong perception of me. i wished i could somehow apologize to her for being caught in the crossfire of our relationship sorties.

then fate stepped in. she and i crossed paths in a very serendipitous way. a co-worker of mine invited me to a happy hour a vendor of hers had suggested she attend. as we walked to her car, she mentioned that the vendor's girlfriend was hosting the event. her name was the same unique name as neighbor girl's. hmmm...i thought, what are the chances? naaaaah. no way.

but, yes. way. we walked in. it was her. she looked at me with a confused face. kinda recognizing me, but it had been months since we had seen each other. we spoke nervously at first. made small talk. she was very sweet, as always. then, i knew i had to make amends. i apologized for bringing the room down for a minute, but had to reassure her that desert storm had misrepresented me. i had never resented her. she thanked me and said that i was brave to say that. she invited me to come to future happy hours. i did. slowly, she and i started to become friends.

at first, there was a thrill in knowing that i was beating desert storm at his own game, winning over the girl he had sought to make my nemesis. but quickly it became a genuine friendship that grew and grew. we are now the best of pals. i love her to death. ironic, ain't it? ah, yes. god bless irony. and god bless the healing power of time. and god bless painful lessons learned. and god bless us, everyone.

the denouement? desert storm and i eventually cleared things up at an everclear show. he recently was trying to get in touch with me on a job lead. i think it was just an excuse to talk with me. maybe to show off finally getting his foot into the door of hollywood? maybe. we had a nice half-hour conversation. inquired as to the well-being of our respective families. job updates. friend updates. no dating updates. no way!

i heard through mutual friends that he had recently been dumped by the single mom he had been dating. can't say i blame her. i doubt that conditions in his war-torn land have improved. not with those big ben-sized blinders he had on.

as our perfectly pleasant, slightly nervous, laugh-punctuated conversation came to an end, he commented on how long we had talked...how much we had had to catch up on.

"it was a conversation two years in the making!" i pronounced in a melodramatic motocross announcer voice.

he laughed. i always loved to make him laugh. i took it as a pinnacle of comedy achievement to earn a chuckle from a man with his humor pedigree.

"they said it would never happen!" he chimed in.

we had always chimed together well.

too bad he's such a ding-dong.

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