beginning after the end

I mentioned at the beginning that my man and i have rekindled our relationship...

We were together for about 9 months, and after a particularly rough patch of his alleged depression and my distrust of his intentions with me, we broke up. Mutually, tearfully... it was an almost poetic parting.

It was also like an earthquake... where the following after-shock is the more surprising, more deadly of the forces of nature.

I try not to dwell on our past. Mostly because he made me absolutely miserable and I do not wish to relive a large portion of that time. But also because our relationship now feels so different that I don't wish to taint it with the bitterness that accompanies the thoughts of those last few months of our relationship.

This after-shock came some time past the fairly normal after-break-up reconnection... where the requisite week of having no contact whatsoever was over and we both felt the familiar urge to see each other again.

A few awkward coffee dates, to talk like strangers and ignore our history... with the slight edge of unresolved disagreement and, on my part, anger.

Then the more familiar dinners, the long walks, the conversation slowly turning more intimate, but still not in discussion of the past.

Then finally the ultimate test to any relationship... new, old, or rediscovered; the road trip. Mind, it was only a couple hours to and from the adoption center where he was having me help him pick out his future pets, but a substantial amount of time alone in a car to stimulate all sorts of conversation.

A useful bit of knowledge essential to this story; when we first started talking again, he professed his need and intention to be with me again (in a romantic and serious way) in a very lengthy discussion. Also, we had abstained from any kind of off-limits physical activities (as we were trying the 'just friends' route for a bit) until literally two days before the road trip... where an innocent bout of play-wrestling ended in a battle to tear the clothes off of the other in the smallest amount of time possible. After which we did not speak at all of the incident, nor had we repeated the act.

Anyway, the drive there was pleasant... the normal, comfortable conversation you have with the person who knows you best. When there, he introduced me to the adoption people as his girlfriend, which received a raised eyebrow on my part. On the drive back he explained that he used me a bit as a prop to show him as a more reliable and trustworthy candidate to the adoption center. Which I found awkward.

Even more awkward was my need to bring up the 'incident' from a few nights before. I began with the brilliantly contrived line of, "So, we slept together. What does that mean?"

I know, a man's most feared question, right behind "Does this make me look fat?"

But I figured, what the hey, we've known each other too long to play any games and i don't need to beat around any bushes. I just wanted some answers.

Here would have been the ideal answer to my posed question:

"badlittlegoodgirl, I love you, I want to be with you, and if you still want to be just friends, I will be alright with that. I want what you want."

Ball in my court.

What I got was a lovely:

"Err.... hmm... -pause- Well, I don't think we can ever be more than just friends."

!

I can't remember a time feeling more dumb-struck than that moment. He, who initiated this whole re-kindling, couldn't imagine being more than a friend to me? When did that happen?!?

So after a very long, tense pause, I asked. "When did you know you felt this way?"

An almost frightened reply, "After the first few times we'd hung out again..."

!!!

All I could see in my head were images of me and him tumbling around in his bed two nights prior, where he panted that he loved me in my ear right before he came inside me.

And then a sick feeling of disgust, of shame, washed through me and I felt like throwing up.

It is one thing to have sex with an ex when you know it is purely breakup sex... there is a certain mentality you have when you go into that. It is another entirely when you have what you thought to be make-up sex, where the feelings well up, and you expect more from the relationship than just that night... and then find out that it was only make-up sex for you, and break-up sex for him.

I really have never felt more used.

He was still driving at this point, and I think he could sense the rage that was welling up inside of me as this new revelation churned a million dark, angry thoughts in my head... so he started trying to explain himself... much of what he said I can't remember purely because I was literally seeing red (and if he hadn't been driving, I swear I would have become physically violent, which is a rare thing to see), but one bit stood out: "A person can't change in a week, two weeks, two months..." He was referring to himself, but it resonated with me.

I hadn't changed... i was still the naive 19 year-old girl who'd fallen in love with a man not yet ready to love her the way she deserved.

When we reached my car at the end of the excruciating journey (where-in the last part of the drive consisted of him staring blank-faced at the road while I screamed my lungs out at him.. also rare, as I am not a screamer (at least during fights)), I jumped out of the vehicle, turned to stare him in the face and told him not to call me... then slammed the car door in his face.

It was 5 months before we saw each other in person again... a painful 5 months that merit a few blogs of their own. But I can tell you that 5 months IS enough to change a person.. it changed me. I'm not longer that naive girl, nor do I pretend to be. I grew a pair, as they say. Got a little rougher.

He changed as well. His father had an aneurysm which left him comatose in the hospital, and impaired to this day... he had a bad fling to try to cope with the fear of losing his parent... i think it all left him with a sense of knowing what is important, of the need to go after it, and keep it

when he gets it.

I hope.