I have a tendency to delay going public with relationship details I’m not all that proud of. What I mean to say is when I think someone will pass judgment, I hold off on uttering anything. Or, well, when I think someone could possibly respond the way I would respond, arms thrown up in the air and a voluminous ‘what the fuck’ echoing off the walls, that’s when I hold back. I keep it all to myself until I’m ready to hear what I already know.
Case in point, when Ex told me I was fat, it took me four weeks to repeat the exchange to anyone. Even Leslie was in the dark. I kept the hurting words and aching pain to myself. I lingered in isolation and sadness and confusion while I grabbed at my dimpled thighs and soft stomach in angry frustration. I stayed mum because I full well knew that if someone I cared about, someone who admittedly struggled with fucked up body image, told me her boyfriend of almost two years had erroneously accused her of being fat, I’d scream a stream of expletives before instructing her to walk away. The thing was, I wasn’t ready to break up. So I went on a diet and cursed my naked self and stayed in the relationship. I kept it all inside until I was ready to go, or at least more ready to go than to stay.
“What’s going on over there?” Joe asked, his hand fanning in front of my face so as to interrupt my gaze.
“Yeah, you’re being suspiciously quiet,” Hope chimed in.
We were sprawled out in the lounge of Twenty Manning. Plates of food dotted the low tables. Martini glasses left dampened rings on cocktail napkins. And I was bent forward, my elbows firmly resting on my knees and my phone clutched in my hand. I paused before answering. I took in a slow and paced breath, the air passing over my parted lips and filling my lungs as I evaluated my response.
“I can’t tell you,” I childishly muttered, my fragile gaze lifting from my phone to Joe. “You’ll be mad.”
“What? What now?” he asked in a half joking humph.
“Alaska contacted me. Yesterday. And I responded. We’ve been talking. Well, not talking, emailing. Anyway, I know he’s on a flight right now. About a five hour flight. I used to always leave him a voicemail when he was 35,000 feet up. This way, the first thing he heard when he landed was a message from me. Old habits die hard.”
“Emailing? He didn’t call you, he emailed you? Christ. This guy is forty-something and he can’t even pick up the fucking phone? No. You are not leaving him a message,” Joe sternly announced.
“I know what you’re feeling, I do,” Hope consoled. “But I’m siding with Joe on this one.”
I knew they were right and well intentioned but as I sat there pondering what to do with all of it, I started to wonder if I’d shared too soon. If I should have just gone my usual path and kept it to myself. I could have fibbed that I needed to call Leslie. I could have politely excused myself, stepped out to the bustling sidewalk and left a message. Something short and sweet that dangerously mingled the present with the past.
“Paige?” Joe asked, my name hanging in the air with uncertainty.
I didn’t have a response. I was frozen in place as I struggled to take the next step, a step either forward or backward. I still wasn’t sure where I was heading.
“Listen. I’m not mad at you,” Joe started, his voice calm and understanding. “And you’re going to do whatever it is you feel you need to do. I get it. But let me just say one last thing - I’d rather you get back together with Ex than give that lying Alaska one more undeserved second of your life. Yeah, Ex said some fucked up shit that hurt you but you know what? He put all his cards on the table. At least you knew where he stood.”
“He has a point,” Hope noted as she leaned forward and gently placed her glass on a cocktail napkin.
I sat there and digested it all, every last word. And when I was finally ready to speak, I did.
“He lands in an hour. Just occupy me until ten and I’ll be fine. I promise. It’s a valley. I have my highs and I have my lows. Today I miss him. Tomorrow I won’t even think about him,” I explained before my voice drifted off. I tucked my phone in my bag and rested my tired body against the banquette. A gentle quiet floated between us until Joe finally spoke, his wise words answering all uncertainty.
“Well heck, all of this can easily be fixed. Excuse me, Miss?” Joe said, his voice directed to the server passing through the lounge and his finger pointing in my direction. “She’s going to need another lycheetini.”
Case in point, when Ex told me I was fat, it took me four weeks to repeat the exchange to anyone. Even Leslie was in the dark. I kept the hurting words and aching pain to myself. I lingered in isolation and sadness and confusion while I grabbed at my dimpled thighs and soft stomach in angry frustration. I stayed mum because I full well knew that if someone I cared about, someone who admittedly struggled with fucked up body image, told me her boyfriend of almost two years had erroneously accused her of being fat, I’d scream a stream of expletives before instructing her to walk away. The thing was, I wasn’t ready to break up. So I went on a diet and cursed my naked self and stayed in the relationship. I kept it all inside until I was ready to go, or at least more ready to go than to stay.
“What’s going on over there?” Joe asked, his hand fanning in front of my face so as to interrupt my gaze.
“Yeah, you’re being suspiciously quiet,” Hope chimed in.
We were sprawled out in the lounge of Twenty Manning. Plates of food dotted the low tables. Martini glasses left dampened rings on cocktail napkins. And I was bent forward, my elbows firmly resting on my knees and my phone clutched in my hand. I paused before answering. I took in a slow and paced breath, the air passing over my parted lips and filling my lungs as I evaluated my response.
“I can’t tell you,” I childishly muttered, my fragile gaze lifting from my phone to Joe. “You’ll be mad.”
“What? What now?” he asked in a half joking humph.
“Alaska contacted me. Yesterday. And I responded. We’ve been talking. Well, not talking, emailing. Anyway, I know he’s on a flight right now. About a five hour flight. I used to always leave him a voicemail when he was 35,000 feet up. This way, the first thing he heard when he landed was a message from me. Old habits die hard.”
“Emailing? He didn’t call you, he emailed you? Christ. This guy is forty-something and he can’t even pick up the fucking phone? No. You are not leaving him a message,” Joe sternly announced.
“I know what you’re feeling, I do,” Hope consoled. “But I’m siding with Joe on this one.”
I knew they were right and well intentioned but as I sat there pondering what to do with all of it, I started to wonder if I’d shared too soon. If I should have just gone my usual path and kept it to myself. I could have fibbed that I needed to call Leslie. I could have politely excused myself, stepped out to the bustling sidewalk and left a message. Something short and sweet that dangerously mingled the present with the past.
“Paige?” Joe asked, my name hanging in the air with uncertainty.
I didn’t have a response. I was frozen in place as I struggled to take the next step, a step either forward or backward. I still wasn’t sure where I was heading.
“Listen. I’m not mad at you,” Joe started, his voice calm and understanding. “And you’re going to do whatever it is you feel you need to do. I get it. But let me just say one last thing - I’d rather you get back together with Ex than give that lying Alaska one more undeserved second of your life. Yeah, Ex said some fucked up shit that hurt you but you know what? He put all his cards on the table. At least you knew where he stood.”
“He has a point,” Hope noted as she leaned forward and gently placed her glass on a cocktail napkin.
I sat there and digested it all, every last word. And when I was finally ready to speak, I did.
“He lands in an hour. Just occupy me until ten and I’ll be fine. I promise. It’s a valley. I have my highs and I have my lows. Today I miss him. Tomorrow I won’t even think about him,” I explained before my voice drifted off. I tucked my phone in my bag and rested my tired body against the banquette. A gentle quiet floated between us until Joe finally spoke, his wise words answering all uncertainty.
“Well heck, all of this can easily be fixed. Excuse me, Miss?” Joe said, his voice directed to the server passing through the lounge and his finger pointing in my direction. “She’s going to need another lycheetini.”
17 comments:
lycheetini! my favorite! :)
Aww...I do the same thing...keep it all to myself until I've resolved the situation. Just remember, that's what friends are for - to keep you from acting on all the bad ideas.
Yep more alcohol that's the answer.
Gretta x
I do that too. If I know my mom is going to lecture me about something my bf did or said or whatever, I just don't tell her, same with my friends. I know what they are going to say and I'm just not ready... so I hide it.
It serves it's purpose, but I sometimes wonder if I am doing myself more harm than good.
Great post.
Rebekah
I think we know the truth that our friends speak and I know for me personally sometimes I'd rather push it under the rug than hear what I know to be true.
Thank goodness for friends!! And I'm glad you didn't leave a message!! :-)
I do the same thing. I just have to work things out in my own time even when they seem so crystal clear to others.
I like that your friend's name was Hope in the story. Was this just a coincidence?
They say the best writing advice is this; To write what is true. If that's so, and I believe it is, then your honesty and skill make you a knock-out writer Paige.
Maybe not a consolation for right now, but tuck it away and come back to it later when you need to.
You have an Alaska. I have a California. Sigh.
And that's the first step -- admitting there's a problem. My ex is playing games with me, and he has tried really hard to suck me back in. It's hard not to respond. But I keep repeating: He's an asshole. :-) Helps. Lean on your friends, and tell them, especially when you don't want to. The strength will come and life will move on. You'll find a new habit to fill your love life with. Sooner rather than later, I hope. (for you and me both)
"The only way to overcome temptation," says Oscar Wilde, "is to give in." I'd say if you must fight temptation, lycheetini seems like a good choice of weapon.
I understand what you mean PJ I do the same thing. I think it is because we know it is wrong but don't want to admit it. It is so much easier giving advice to others instead of taking advice our own advice.
I'm so turned around right now I can't even write about it.
delurking-I found your blog through your comments on some others that I read and while I don't have any brilliant advice, I just wanted to say that I really love your writing style and you certainly have gained another fan here.
you're very lucky to have great friends like Hope and Joe in your life. just let them help you.
That Joe is a smart guy. Is there any problem booze doesn't solve? Wait, what?
I'm totally a keep-it-to-myself kind of girl. About everything.
I love this - you document your thougths and actions so beautiuflly and I applaud you for having the courage to engage in another drink over callig Alaska...
so...what did you do?? =-)
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