Shere Khan and The First Date.

While working at a job that I hated with the core of my being, I decided that I needed to get out more. Twelve hour shifts, six days a week, at a factory that cared little for me except whether I was on time or not, sick or not, or whether or not I caused any problems was drowning my soul. This was my first introduction to the world of work.

Still, there was some kind of hope. I had some friends in town that I would make a point to visit on the rare occasion I had a day off. My friend, Shere Khan, and I shared a love of television and computers. And because we were mutually bored on our days off, we visited each other to enjoy our hobbies with some pizza and beverages. As it happened, Shere Khan and I had both known her from a few years back, and because she lived in town, it seemed natural to call her up and invite her over to hang out. It didn't take long for me to become enchanted with her. (See post Knowing Love.) Soon, my desire to hang out with Shere Khan transformed into my desire to hang out with Shere Khan so we could invite her over to hang out.

The three of us developed the habit of hanging out in coffee shops to talk about things that seemed very important back then. Perhaps all young people talk about such things in a way that always seems novel, but is really foolish. Most of my excitement at hanging out together was the anticipation of being with her. I would sneak stares at her from the corner of my eye and tried to engage her in conversation. Frequently, because we were younger, our conversation turned toward relationships, and I would usually describe myself as the most understanding, gallant man a woman would ever hope to meet. But, the reality of the situation was that I used Shere Khan to be with her, not so gallant an action after all. The few times that she couldn't hang out with Shere Khan and me were deeply disappointing, and I don't think I hid my disappointment well. Shere Khan must have suspected that I was just visiting him to be with her. I still feel a little guilty about that. I haven't talked to Shere Khan in over three years, and the reality of the situation is knowing that perhaps I never will.

However, during those times, I often had the chance to talk with her as we were both leaving to go home. When midnight or 1:00 a.m. rolled around, we said goodbye to Shere Khan, whose apartment was the common meeting ground for us three, and then she and I talked to each other as I escorted her to her car. These talks grew longer and longer, until one night, we noticed that day was beginning to dawn, and that we had stayed up the entire night talking in the parking lot. The depth of my love for her was evident by the fact that I did not get tired talking to her, even though I generally like to go to bed pretty early. I was intoxicated by her presence, her attention. The excitement of talking with her was all I needed to keep sleep away.

Of course, this increasing attraction for her was becoming more intense, and it made it hard for me to concentrate on anything else. I am not normally a bold person, but I decided to visit her at her house and ask her out on a date. And of course, this is what I did. She was shocked when she opened the door, but she tells me that once she saw me standing there, she knew what I wanted. Initially, she was guarded when I told her how I felt, but she agreed to go out with me and I couldn't have been happier. If I could go back and do things over again, the only thing I would change would be the level of formality in our first meetings. For instance, I would have brought flowers and spent about $100 or more on our first real date. I now know she would have liked that, even if it might have made her more suspicious. Still, I cherish these memories.

Doubts

Last night, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I was feeling a little panicky, so I called her. After telling myself in this blog and my head that I should leave her, I started to feel that I would miss everything about her. It is a hard acknowledging that the relationship I invested in so much needs to end. I started to feel like I put way too much of myself, my inner being, into this to have it end. How do you say that a major part of the last four years of your life has been an experiment that did not work out? As I have shared my life with her, she has shared hers with me. I don't want to lose those four years. Staying together would mean the bad stuff would probably continue, but breaking up would definitely mean that there'd be no more good stuff together. Breaking up would close a chapter of my life once and for all. Am I acknowledging my reluctance to admit a personal failure? I keep searching for some sign or find a Midas touch that will turn this relationship into the emotional gold that I want.

On one of the websites I read the other day, it mentioned how breaking up an abusive relationship can be incredibly difficult. It observed that breaking up is akin to quitting an addiction, like smoking. I don't want my feelings for her to be like an addiction, and I am not sure about the comparison. Is it like an addiction just because it is bad for you? How are general feelings of love (the good kind) not a type of addiction either. Numerous peoples and poets throughout history talk about the intoxication of love. If I am addicted to her, then is that the good addiction "love" that is struggling against some bad things, or is that something else?

Except for my insecurity about not hearing from her, the phone call I made went relatively well. We have been apart for the last week so she could get some work done, and she seems to be getting a lot of it done indeed. Frankly, I expected her to be irritated at me, but for the most part, she wasn't. I bracing myself for a phantom. In fact, she sounded good. She sounded like she was having a good time. Therefore, my whining (my conception of it, not hers) about the relationship and my fears brought us both down, so I dropped that line of conversation. This morning, she IM'ed me just to say hi. It was a nice thing to do. So, all of this has thrown me off a little.

Of course, one of the things that I should have mentioned, but haven't yet, is how we are seeing a relationship counselor. We have only been to a couple of meetings. However, one of the things that the counselor has said stood out for me the most. When my girlfriend asked him if he thought this relationship had any potential to be thing we both wanted, the counselor said something along the lines of "it is good for two people who love each other to try and discover how to make a life together." Perhaps, with more counseling, this is something I should stick with and try to make work. I think, during the summer, I will try and read up on some issues of abuse. I like reading anyway. I am going to assume that the more informed I am, I'll have a better chance at sorting this whole thing out. Today, for now, I am going to focus on getting work done so I can keep my job.

No Phonecalls

We have been apart for more than a week. Initially, I thought that this was great idea because I felt that it would give us the appropriate distance to assess the relationship in a neutral light. Predictably, the conclusion that I came to was, despite my love for her, this relationship is abusive and probably needs to end. I really don't want to have the person I love spit in my face during an argument because I happened to express how unfair I think things are.

As the week had dragged on, I have only talked to her on the phone twice, both times I initiated the phone call. These calls were a lot like the others. Although things start out pleasantly enough, I can always already hear the irritation build up in her voice after fifteen minutes because, she says: I did not call earlier, I am enjoying the time away too much, or I'm not really listening to her on the phone. It is hard to defend myself against the last two accusations because they are almost always untrue, and other than say "I'm not" or "I didn't," I haven't found a way to convince of the truth. (All bad relationships wind up being some kind of cliche. I know. Everything that one can say in these situations, I have already said one hundred times: "Unless you live in my head, you can't know that; I'm not a mind-reader; If you wanted me to help you or know that, you have to tell me." See. Cliches, every one of them.)

The first accusation (of not calling earlier) perplexes me because, for the majority of the relationship, I, apparently, am the one who has the sole responsibility to make all of the phone calls. This week is a prime example. Although we have been apart for a week, she has not called me once. I wonder if the lack of a phone call from her is another form of (minor) abuse. For example, despite my saying "please call me," or "why don't you call me once in awhile," she doesn't call. When I finally do call, she gets mad at me for not calling earlier. Then when I bring up the fact that I make all of the phone calls, she cites the few instances when she called first, asking why aren't I more grateful.

Of course, things haven't been great for her in this relationship either. She wants me to be another person, someone I can't be, because I can't figure out who that other person is, and she can't tell me. And believe me, both of us have tried to figure it out. Her fears of being alone and not being able to find someone to have a family with, a primary goal of her life, latched on my fears of being alone. I think this is largely what propelled us into this relationship.

The reason I am writing all of this now is because I am starting to feel some anxiety about her not calling. She knows things are bad too. During our last conversation on the phone, she indicated that the conflict in our summer plans were going to be a problem. She didn't explain, which leads me, as a guy prone to worry, to think that she wants to break up. I know that in some ways a break-up might be the best thing for the both of us. On the other hand, I have spent the majority of the last several years being in love with her, doing fun things, spending time together, and making plans together. When I think of her leaving me, I feel a queasiness that and lightness in my chest that is hard to repress. The head knows one thing, and the heart is crying out for another.

Knowing Love

I had known her for a long time before I had the courage to even ask her out. We happened to be on a trip with three other friends. We were all at Pike Street Market in Seattle. For out-of-towners who rarely have the opportunity to visit Seattle, it was a beautiful and exciting place to be. She had wanted to buy some flowers for the other friends that we were visiting in Seattle, while our other friends from Portland went off on their own, perhaps to look for music CD's.

I remember watching her bend over some purple irises to smell them. I stood about four feet away from her, so I had an entire picture. The flowers had been spritzed with water from an automatic watering system immediately before we arrived, and the cool mist still hung in the air. Everything about that moment enchanted me about her. Her thoughtfulness in buying flowers for our friends, the cool mist that hung in the air that felt like the breath of the flowers themselves, their subtle fragrance, the sound of the crowd and the ocean nearby glinting with light. Not to mention how gorgeous she appeared, especially at that moment. Her oval face, long brown, curly hair, delicate rosy hands, and her long skirt captivated me. Rarely do I have quick moments where I instantly know something, that I decide to take a course of action. Mostly, decisions and understandings grow with a warming intensity that I ignore until it burns and I can no longer stand it anymore. But that exact moment with the flowers is when I fell in love with her. I knew then that I had to convince her that I was the perfect guy for her.

Biggy Baloo

Welcome to the first post of this particular blog. I have two other blogs that friends and family know about, but I felt the need to have a blog that was anonymous to those who know me. Having an audience that knows you involves the social pressures that restricts what one wants, or feels the need, to write about.

My initial conception for this blog is that its purpose will be to help me figure out, through writing, my own internal psychological mechanisms that make me who I am, or how I've made the choices that I have made.

I've fallen into a bad and abusive relationship. I have been hit, scratched, had water thrown at me, spit upon, and belittled during the last six months. Also, I am a man, and according to segments of society, this is not supposed to happen to men. Of course, it shouldn't happen to women either, but the sad fact is: it does happen. And it happens to people regardless of gender.

Part of my problem is that I really love the woman who does this. I think that I can see where this behavior comes from, and despite everyone who says that you cannot make the other person change, I still hope that time will change things. The thing that I tell myself is that since I'm not the one who is directly advocating for a change, but am rather hoping for time to change things, I'm not like all of the others. Time has indeed changed things, but not for the better. My girlfriend is still beautiful; she is still incredibly intelligent; and she has some terrific virtues. However, the relationship dynamic brings out her worst side, and sometimes, mine.

I haven't been the perfect exemplar in the behavior department. I can get pretty angry about the whole situation. And on a couple occasions, I have yelled really loudly because anger got the better of me. Once, after being ridiculed and put down for thirty minutes because I had not done something she asked--a thing that I felt I could not help--I started yelling and quickly became angrier and angrier. Then, as we were in the car, I hit the dash a couple of times with my open hand and broke one of the air vents. I believe this was immediately after she pinched my face so hard as to draw blood, but to be completely honest, I don't remember. I was so upset that I did not realize I was bleeding until I saw it in the rear-view mirror. There were three dime sized wounds on my face. I barely felt the pinch when it happened because our argument raised my adrenalin. Also, it should be noted that I sat with both hands on the wheel and let her pinch. When the scratches healed over, they were apparently nothing large enough to draw the attention of either one of our families. Still, although I broke the dash mechanism, I have never hit or kicked her--nor do I call names. All are things which she has done, the latter, name-calling, frequently.

I suppose that I should break up with her, but at times, I really, really don't want to. I want things between us to be better. But, I also know that I am not the person I want to be. I am distraught, unhappy, and worried about the direction of our relationship. Frequently, I find myself asking what went wrong and why we can't be happy. The future plans that she describes for us is not really the one I want, but may be the one I convince myself that I should take. I'm afraid I'll wind up doing it.

Furthermore, my job is pretty much in jeopardy because of this thing, and I may get fired. I don't want to be, but I don't think I have much of a choice at this point. It is almost out of my hands altogether. These next two and a half weeks will be clincher. If I'm going to be fired, I'll know in three of four weeks. She will say that it is not her fault that I haven't done the things I should have at work, and partially, she would be right. I could have made better decisions. I could have not let this affect my work as much as it has. But I also feel that the fact remains that, when one is in a bad relationship, it is hard to feel motivated to do the things you should at the level and competence which are required. It affects you whether you like it or not.

According to this list here, I experience the feeling of having to walk on eggshells to keep her from getting angry sometimes, she resents it when I spend any time with my family, I go along to get along, and I've stopped expressing opinions because of her reactions. I also found things on other "signs of abuse lists" that indicate I'm in a bad relationship. I could go on into other details, but so, probably, could every other person in these types of circumstances could. So, I'm going to leave it here for now.

(The last thing that I'll say is that she does not know about this blog, and I have mixed feelings about it keeping this a secret from her. I'm afraid she'll find it and it will be another thing to argue about. Yet, I know keeping secrets is not exactly the path to a great relationship. However, I also know that I have no forum to work out my problems, so I am turning to the Internet and this blog and am using them both as a type of mirror. I hope that in these reflections, the truth and an healing answer will shine out at me from the shadows of broadening depression.)