Muse. Ramble. Rant. Repeat



A love story of sorts.

We’re moving at the end of the month so I’ve been doing a lot of cleaning lately. A few days ago I found my journals – a time capsule of me from 13-20. It’s scary and also interesting to reread.

 Nineteen year old me was a sight to be seen. I partied with the best of them; I was a bar star in my own right. I would do the outrageous. I was fun. I was young. I had a serious drinking problem. Single and in complete control of everything I did; I was a vision of self confidence and sex appeal. So I have it twisted in my head six years later. My journals, undecipherable in places due to tear stains, tell another story. They tell of someone who was insecure, on edge, uncomfortable with herself.

 Looking back, I’m not sure why I was in some many fiery relationships. I sought them out but it was too much. The constant arguing, the crying, the mistrust, the yelling; took a toll on me. After each of these relationships I would take a downward spiral into alcohol and self-pity. I literally have read pages and pages obsessing about why my high school boyfriend cheated on me. Surely something was wrong with me that made these boys treat me like this. I was used. And then I used. The relationships always self destructed in the worse possible way.

 When I met CJ my guard was completely down. Freshly out (as in still basically in) of a dramatic relationship I had no intentions of dating anyone. I had a cycle of drinking and self loathing that I needed to complete before I would go on the hunt again. We met at a toga party – a party that I almost hadn’t gone to. We sat next to each other and talked for hours. That first night ended with an exchange of email addresses; not even a phone number. I thought nothing of it.

 A few days later we talked on instant messenger. He was so nervous it took him an hour to ask me out on a date. Still, at this point I still didn’t think much of him. I knew he was cute, funny and friendly but surely he was too nice of a guy for me.

 We went on our first date, and I agreed to see him again. And again. And again. Our dates became marathons of talking. We couldn’t stop; we had so much in common, so much to discuss. He didn’t play by the rules – he would ask me out two nights in a row. He wouldn’t blow me off. CJ once called to tell me he couldn’t call me when he had said he would because he had made plans with his friends. We had a great connection, amazing chemistry, that spark they talk about in romance novels. He had everything a girl could ask for but for me it was just too easy. I thought there had to be a catch. No guy was ever this perfect, no relationship was this easy. And there was a catch.

 We were having our first fight. In a calm, rational tone, he called me out for flirting with his friend; he did not like it. It was disrespectful and inappropriate. I was ready for this fight, had somewhat initiated it; I wanted the drama. I craved it, was so used to it. I wanted to test him. I wanted to know what was wrong with him. Furthermore I wanted him to see what was wrong with me. You see, up until this point in our young relationship I had been Ms. Perfect. You know, that girl one pretends to be before you really get to know the guy you’re dating. I, twisted as it is, wanted to test him; I wanted him to not like me. To deem me too crazy, too much, too put together, too into commitment, too whatever – because that’s what I had been deemed by every other guy I’d dated to this point.

 So I screamed. I yelled. I cried. I was cruel. He, calm, rational, thoughtful, listened to what I had to say. When I was done (I yelled “WELL WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY?”) he told me that I was wrong, he was right and requested that I not flirt with his friends. He then bid me goodnight and told me he would see me the next day.

 I left that night in tears; I was ready to call it quits with him. How dare he challenge me like that? Didn’t he know that I was supposed to win that fight? That he was either supposed to reject me or passive aggressively apologize to me? While fuming, throwing things about my room, I realized something – I was completely wrong. I was wrong to flirt with his friends, wrong to pick a fight over it, wrong to make this tiny issue into a huge issue. He was right and he knew it. He had called me on my drama and told me he wasn’t going to put up with it. I went back to him and admitted my wrong doing. He accepted my apology and then forgave me. We haven’t talked of that fight since, except a few minutes ago when I told him I was writing about it.

 It was in the aftermath of that fight I fell in love with him. I knew I had found someone special; a balance to my outrageous personality. I respect that my quiet, well-mannered boyfriend will fight for what he believes in. He has a backbone stronger than anyone else I know. You need to when you live with me. It can be frustrating to be with someone who calls you on your bullshit; I don’t like it in the heat of the moment. But, when the dust settles from a fight, I appreciate that he cares enough to fight with me, for me, for us. When one person rules a relationship, it stops being an equal partnership and becomes a dictatorship. Another lesson learned from that fight was that he accepted me as is – crazy, outgoing, temperamental, and all. He didn’t expect me to change but demanded I treat him with respect. He, in turn, would do the same.

 What I discovered, is that with him, I did change. I calmed down. I’m less quick to anger, easier going. I’m still me, but I’m just the best me I can be. Look, I’m not going all Jerry Maguire on you here; I just wanted to express how easy it all becomes when you meet the right person. It stops being difficult because they want you to be you. Things fall into place and it’s comfortable – but the chemistry still remains. Maybe you don’t have butterflies anymore but you get excited to see that person and you are able to write pages and pages about how awesome they are*.

 Within two months of that fight we moved in together. Which is another story for another time but involves a lot of poor, a lot of kraft dinner, and quite a few insane roommates.

 

*I will rant later about CJ’s faults – there are many that drive me insane; I have just learned to live with them – the good outweighs the bad.

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  1. * Lindsay says:

    This got me teary. I use your relationship as my lighthouse. I know that there is something better out there and I’ll tread water ’til I find it.

    | Reply Posted 7 years, 10 months ago


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