About four and half years ago I met this guy. He worked in second shift in critical care, and I would see him during the week when I would transfer critical anesthesia cases to ICU or when I came in on emergency anesthesia cases after hours or over the weekend. He was always just a little more interested in my patients and a little more helpful than the average critical care tech. I don’t remember when or what made me decide to cross the ‘dating people you work with line’ but I did. He did. We did. Whatever.
Twelve months later, we were still really happy together, saw more of each other than was probably good for either of our sleep cycles (not to mention our work schedules), but we were still having fun, eating sushi, listening to live jazz, watching ultimate fights and that December, talking about moving in together over the approaching summer. The night of that discussion we were sitting on his living room floor, trying to figure out just how we’d make his three dogs, two cats and my dog work all in one house, as that seemed to be the most problematic area of our relationship. We weren’t arguing about it, it was like trying to decide where to put the new sofa.
The next month, on the first Monday of the New Year my brother died. All that week I ran around Northern Virginia trying to keep my family from killing each other, trying to locate friends of the family, and trying to not drive into or off of a bridge. I remember every night that week, just wanting to get to him, to his house, away from delivering more bad news to more people I loved.
The night before the service I finally made it to his house. It was everything I had hoped it would be all week long. Right up until we started discussing the service, and how he would get there. That was when he announced it would be “far too sad for me to go” and “Sorry, but I just can’t put myself out like that”.
I don’t remember responding verbally. I put my shoes on and left. He called a few times after that, but I never did speak to him again.
All that history, to say this.
Tonight, he called me.
A friend of a friend passed on my North Carolina contact information.
Apparently, someone in his life died, and he wanted advice.
So friends of blog-dom – you tell me, how do you think I handled this?
About Me
- Craver
- North Carolina, United States
- Behind every beautiful thing there's some kind of pain. - Bob Dylan
8 comments:
Be for him what he never was for you.
Maybe, after this time, he realizes what a mistake it was.
...Or you told him that you couldn't do it just now.
I hope you were the bigger person and showed him some pity.
...then yelled at the person who gave him your phone number!
Oh how I hate blogger and the reload button.
I had said that you prolly handled it gracefull, then shouted bad words ath the phone after he hung up.
OR, the other equally likely outcome would have been that you told him to suck it up and nbe a man, then hung up.
With it being YOu we're talking about, it's ever so hard to tell.
My tendency would be to tell him to f*ck off, since he had been such an assh*le when I needed him.
But the best response would be to tell him whatever he needed to know, and be all sweet and nice about it - and THEN tell him what an assh*ole he was.
Maybe it's a gender thing but I politely disagree with all the women above, Cravey--and no doubt you also.
It sounds to me like you screwed up before. Sure, this guy wasn't there for you that night. But death is a pretty heavy issue and he might have needed a little bit of time to get used to the idea. Instead you just walked out on him. I do understand how much stress you were under at the time, and how your own emotions were maxed out, but you should have just shelved things for a day or two and then checked back with him. He said no to a funeral, you said no to the entire relationship. Just my humble little male opinion which might be "slightly" affected by having been walked out on myself recently.
I'm betting you tried to help, and then got off the phone and thought "What the fuck?" and then got angry and kind of sad.
Or maybe that's just me.
Oh, this is a trick question for sure. My typical response would be gracious and 'it's no big deal, happy to help' in a puppydog sort of sycophant way.
Lately, having grown something of a spine, it would have been tough not to tell him whatfor.
Did he ever ask why you left? Does he know how he wasn't there for you? Or just assume that you'd be willing to pick up from where it was dropped?
PS - you're freaking me out with all the changing colors!
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