Truth Seeking: Revealing the Monster

I didn’t know I could be so vulnerable. I didn’t know I could set myself up so well for getting plowed down, but that’s exactly what had happened.

I realized after the confrontation with the SoHB’s girlfriend that I had set myself up to help bring her fantasy scenario to life. If the girl disliked me so greatly, she would naturally have her own hopes of telling me off and getting the upper hand, just as I had imagined taking off her blinders. My hasty, drunken scheme had backfired. Not only had my plan failed, but I had provided a ripe moment for her to carry out her own. The victory was hers. Surely she knew her words had wounded. Surely she knew I ended up crying on The Flirt’s shoulder the rest of the night. Surely they both knew.

Reason told me not to think in terms of victory and defeat. I felt shame despite knowing that I had nothing for which to be ashamed. It was a mistake speaking with her and my motives were admittedly selfish, but I hadn’t failed to treat her respectfully. I did not belittle her or even the SoHB, cast no aspersions about either of them, but stuck with the facts. Reason reminded me that I hadn’t stooped to her cruel tactics and that there is no shame in being sensitive to another’s cruelty, but it’s very hard listening to reason when you know you’ve been foolish. It’s very hard to feel your dignity is intact after a failure, even when you know your behavior in the face of it is the true test.

I saw him online on Monday following the confrontation. I couldn’t allow my humiliation to be the final word. Reason lost to pride. I worried about damage control. I had let her get to me … exposed my vulnerability. That moment couldn’t be undone, so now I hoped to prove that I could be the bigger person about it all.

“Your girlfriend is funny.” I stated. “I like her.”

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I mean, she was trying to be mean to me, but that’s understandable. I never had anything against her. It’s no biggie.”

“Yeah. I was unaware you two were chit chatting,” he said.

Chit chatting? What had she told him about our conversation?

“We ended up in the bathroom together … at the same time.”

“Yah.”

“I knew she had issues with me. She gave me a look to kill when I first saw her on Patch’s birthday, and I’ve just gotten a ‘bad vibe’ off of her ever since. So, I thought we might settle that. … But, … she just isn’t going to like me, and that’s cool. I don’t have a problem with her, and I don’t take it personally. She doesn’t even know me.”

“We can’t all get along I guess,” he said.

I chuckled. “I guess not. It takes two.”

I felt very self-satisfied that I had accomplished my mission. Dignity restored.

Four days later, the frustration returned. Turns out the Dignity Restoration Project had a short shelf life.

I messaged the SoHB again on Friday afternoon. It started with jovial remarks about how he was abandoned in the office, but who was I kidding? There was more on my mind than small talk.

“You know you’re doing the whole ‘mixed messages’ thing again, don’t you?” I asked, and, before he could jump to conclusions, added “(and I’m not implying the romantic variety, so don’t go freaking out.)”

“No, I don’t know what you are suggesting,” he answered, “But I am about to leave. I don’t want to get into any sort of discussion like that.”

Of course not. Another dodge. There was always a dodge when the topic became too personal. Either he was busy on a project at work and couldn’t talk, or he wasn’t feeling well, or it suddenly became necessary to leave work early … ad nauseum.

“I’m just tired of making all the effort…” I said.

“You don’t have to make any effort,” he interrupted. The comment stung, but I continued.

“… while you say one thing, but do another.”

“Okay. What do you mean?”

Suddenly, he had time to talk.

“I mean that if being friendly with each other is too much for you, or is something you really don’t care for, you should be straightforward about that. ‘Cause I approached you about this despite … well, despite a lot … and you sounded receptive, and made some assertions that this was something you cared about … If you had said something to the contrary, I wouldn’t have wasted my time putting in any effort.”

“I thought perhaps we could be friends, but now I doubt that’s possible.”

“I need more explanation. You’ve changed your mind? Or … huh?”

“Well, there are many reasons. If you are going to force the issue, I better make a decision.”

“Am I forcing the issue? What is the issue, do you think?” Asking for straightforward communication was forcing an issue?

“You always get critical of me when I am noncommittal, as if I am avoiding saying anything with any meaning,” (isn’t that the definition of noncommittal?) “but the thing is you are far too intense about all this … to me … in my opinion, that is.”

That one stung, too. I had been too intense, drifting far from my original commitment of reaching out to him, making myself approachable, and leaving it there. I knew it and regretted it.

“I try to keep things light and casual,” I explained “… and be aware of my own boundaries, because things that happened were very hurtful, and having them go unrecognized expands on the hurt … but when I don’t feel that even the lightest, most casual contact is reciprocated, that just expands on the old hurt.

“In a nutshell,” I continued, “I said, ‘Wanna try and be friends?’ and you said, ‘Okay,’ so I have gone about trying to be friends … e-mails, IMs, and so on … because that’s what friends do; They chat. And you respond when necessary, but that’s it.”

“Every time I have encountered you in person, things have been tense and awkward. That last bit of business was no good. Possibly a turning point.”

“And, you know, what I’m talking about has fed into that.”

“You are trying to suggest that I am indirectly responsible for that turn of events.”

“Oh yes.”

“That your frustration or whatever with me led you to try to get into a discussion with Michele in the bathroom.”

(Have I been misspelling her name all this time? Who spells it like that, except guys in France? … or Quebec?)

“Yes.”

“It was a terrible idea. You had left, hadn’t you? Did you come back to talk to her?”

“It was a terrible idea, but, no, I just found us both there.”

“You do not like her. Why would you try to talk to her?”

“I don’t know her. I have no opinion of her. But I could tell that she didn’t like me.”

He then accused me of saying vicious things about her, saying I had sent him an e-mail once that was very rough. While I had sent him a couple of bitter e-mails, none were about her. In fact, I barely ever mentioned her. I had anticipated an accusation about my pet name for her, but this was unexpected. I denied ever having sent an e-mail about her and reiterated what I had explained to Michelle – that any comments made were due the problem I had with him and not about her.

“You need to move on. This was a year ago,” he said. “I’m not going to argue any of the points you have against me.”

I physically recoiled. Thank heaven he couldn’t see me.

“Well, when a friend hurts you right where you’re vulnerable, it doesn’t just go away. A year really isn’t so long. And I’m surprised that losing my friendship doesn’t seem to bother you at all. That’s shocking, actually.”

“A year is a long time.”

I felt as if I were in a rerun of my conversation with Michelle.

“Look, I'm sorry I've said things that could be taken as hurtful to Michelle. I'm sorry for the times I've reacted badly. It always happened at moments when I felt completely helpless. That's no excuse, but that's why.”

“I don't want bad blood, I hate it, but you have to understand, my life is a lot different now …”

“So is mine, and that's why I wouldn't want to return to the way we were, even if it were possible.”

“…I have a girlfriend, it's been almost a year. I'm afraid things are not going to improve between you two. I'm not throwing any blame for that. My fault; Her fault; Your fault; It doesn't matter.”

I had completely lost control of the conversation. Time to get refocused and off the defensive.

“Basically, all I'm saying here -- what this conversation was started about -- was because, in an effort to regain some rapport again, I took steps to make that happen. You hem-hawed around about accepting it....”

“I didn't know if it would work out, but I didn't just want to say, ‘No, forget it, good luck.’”

“Well, a little effort would have been appreciated, and would have made the difference, just so you know. I didn’t ask for much you might remember. And, honestly, I don’t have much faith anymore. I thought there might be some kind feelings here, but I really just feel like I’ve been patronized.”

“Like I say, my life has changed a lot. I wish well for you, but I don’t know that I can give you the kind of effort you want.”

“I don’t know how that is supposed to be an answer. I really don’t know what kind of effort you think I want, because what I asked for was practically nil.”

“Effort as in meeting for coffee? Talking on the phone? Hanging out?”

Another one out of left field. Where was he getting this stuff?

“I never said anything about us hanging out. I hoped we might develop enough comfort with each other to have a phone conversation now and then … not regularly. And meeting for coffee was a distant possibility, dependent on how well we got along here and in e-mail. How silly do you think I am?” I swear, did he ever actually read anything I ever sent him? Were all my messages secretly encrypted beyond recognition by little e-mail fairies?

“I don’t think you are silly. I just thought I was keeping things on the level that worked best, but you say that it’s nothing, so I am just trying to figure it out.”

“I merely thought that if you wanted to be friends, you might reciprocate some of the attention I was paying you, and I wouldn’t have to twist your arm just to chat on IM.”

At this point he said he needed to leave for an event of his sister’s.

“One thing, okay?” I added before he could bolt. “I brought this up tonight (despite my better judgment) because it has been very frustrating trying to be friends or friendly with someone who says “okay” to you in one way, but barely recognizes you in another. And it does feed into tension when we see each other. I don’t see any way to much avoid seeing each other at all … same friends, same city. It’s going to happen. But I would like to avoid the tension.”

“I would, too. Perhaps it’s possible.”

And with that, he was off for his event.

Despite the slightly hopeful conclusion, I knew there was no hope. It really was the end. I cried a few tears as I sat there letting his words sink in. He truly had distorted who I was and what I wanted, accusing me of things I had never said … even saying I expected things I had explicitly said I didn’t want. Like, hanging out? When I offered him with the chance to reconnect without rehashing our old differences, one of the boundaries I vehemently expressed was that I had no interest in being his drinking buddy again, EVER!! And with the SoHB, there isn’t much hanging out if there isn’t any drinking. I felt as though I finally had a picture of myself through his eyes, and I was merely a shell of my true self. Not a real person, but a shadow. It was no wonder he couldn’t value me enough to even carry out a satisfactory correspondence when he had made me out to be a completely different person than I was. And, who was he to tell me I needed to move on?!! That statement infuriated and scared me at once. What did he know about me or my life to say such a thing? Here I was attempting to overlook his crimes in order to give him a chance at possible redemption, and he sits in judgment of me?!! But, then again, what if he was right? What if I was hoping after something that no longer existed for him? Those comments about it having been a year and “a year is a long time”… they haunted me sometimes without his or Michelle’s help. I didn’t need reminding. It frightened me sometimes to think of how strongly I still felt and how often I still thought of him. It frightened me to think that he’d had more than enough time and distraction to lose all affection for me.

Although I cried over the shredding of my last vestige of hope, I couldn’t give much to it. I had spent so much time worrying over how he thought of me and how he felt about me, but this confrontation revealed that when he thought of me … my name, my face, my soul … he wasn’t truly thinking of me at all, but some mythical creature of his own invention. I was sad over it, but couldn’t take it personally if he chose to warp my words into his own meaning.

I called *Rachel once my cry was done and asked if I could come over. I never spoke of my conversation with the SoHB. She never asked what was bothering me. We sat on her couch watching TV for a couple of hours.

In the months since, I have not spoken with the SoHB or seen him. My birthday passed without any acknowledgment from him. I hadn’t expected any, but still hoped. In one of our frivolous IM conversations I had teased about the extravagant lengths he could take to make up for ruining my birthday and neglecting it last year. I had hoped to receive an e-mail card … something. So, when his birthday rolled around two weeks later, I did for him what he didn’t do for me, hoping it might nudge his conscience. I sent a humorous e-card link with no more personal a message than, “Have fun. Be safe.” He replied with an equally stark “Thank you, Kwirki.” I expected to run into him on a couple of occasions, but he never showed.

It was a silent summer and autumn between us, and yet so eventful, full of revelations and new conflicts. It was a season of growth beyond my imagination. And, despite the distance, the silence between us, I wonder if the SoHB might be a beneficiary of it yet. There is something unfinished. I’m just waiting to see what it is.

* = Names have been changed to protect those whom I like.