Quiz Time

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?

History Lessons...

Ever since my first "real" boyfriend, RT, broke my heart at 19, I've been a believer in the "this didn't work, let's pretend we never met" philosphy of ex-boyfriends. I've never once tried that 'can we be friends?' crap.

Now, I'll be the first to admit, my choices in men have not been stellar. Often when the relationships ended I was every bit as relieved as anything else. I can honestly say that after one of these relationships ended, I often suddenly realized that this person I'd been involved with wasn't really someone I'd even want to be friends with, that in fact, he simply wasn't up to the standards I hold my friends to. (Let's not look to deeply into the fact that I rationalized that despite I wouldn't have this person as a friend, I'd sleep with them). We'll save that for the therapy couch.

About 2 years ago, an ex-boyriend that I never thought I'd have a nice thing to say to or about ever again, made the effort to reach out to me when he learned of my brother's passing. We have spent a fair amount of time since then, chatting, instant-messaging., and yes, we've even seen each other several times. No, this is not a reconiliation, nor do I want it to be, but the hurt and anger and resentment are gone. He sends me text messages, little things from my past that make me laugh out loud when I'm cruising the grocery aisles for pudding pops. Just loud enough to make the woman in the same aisle hustle her sticky-looking children away. (A win-win situation in my book). It's nice. It might even be better than nice, but for now, nice is all I've got.

This might seem like nothing to the average reader. However, in my history., this is huge. I am one of those women that just isn't able to forgive those who were reckless with her heart. I don't plan their untimely demise, I just don't fully let go of the hurt. I am blessed or cursed (depending on my mood) with an almost photographic memory., so even when I want to, I'm never fully able to forget hurtful things that were said, no matter how insignificant.. like the equal packets, the infuriating equal packets. After your equal packet tantrum -- did you ever figure out I was intentionally leaving them in weird places? places you couldn't help but see them?, just to annoy you, and point out how stupid the whole thing was. Letting go is huge, and I feel like maybe I owe you a bit of gratitude.

I've jokingly said many times that I would learn forgiveness in my next life. Thanks to you E., looks like I'm getting a head start.