I have had my share of love's ups and downs, as well as a divorce under my belt; however, this latest guy—let's call him BD (Big Dickhead)—really threw me for a loop.
I have been friends with him and his family for 16-plus years. About a year ago, things heated up between the two of us . . . one drunken night, we fooled around and then talked for hours about how we'd each been thinking about each other for ages. Great, right?
A week later, whammo! Big, stupid argument. We didn't talk for months.
Then his gran got ill and was hospitalized here in town. I opened my home and my heart to him and his family. My friend and his family live in L.A., so for months I fed and housed everyone.
During this time we kept getting closer, until one night we had another stupid drunken argument. Everything had been going great, then he tells me that whatever is going on needs to stop.
We went back and forth a few more times, which is difficult because my kids are close to him, too. I take this seriously.
Even though I know he has been a major player in the past, by this point I was in love with this guy. Another huge factor is we haven't had sex. We've fooled around, but I get most of my penetration from my battery-operated boyfriend. I have never had a relationship this deep with a guy who wasn't nailing me. Strangely, I think he hasn't gone there because he respects me. (I would obviously like to be respected a little less and spanked like a dirty little girl.)
I wrote him a letter telling him how I felt, and added that if he just wanted to let it go and stay friends, I would be cool with that.
A week or so later, he finally leaves me a message. We play phone tag, and then I find out from his sister that he's started nailing some slut. Fucking unbelievable! This bitch took some sandpaper to the hood of my car, too! WHORE!
I lost it. I called him up and told him I couldn't be happier that he found someone special. I may have also called him a pussy for not having the balls to tell me himself.
So that's it. I was pissed off for a while, but now I am so unbelievably sad. My heart is broken. Can you give me some clarity—some good, solid reasoning? If I hear another cliché, I may vomit. I have cried more in the past week than I did over my ex-husband. Where do I go from here?
What you need to do is pull your head out of your heinie and take it down a notch (or 10). You've got kids, and there's no need for them to witness Mommy acting out some crappy Lifetime movie. Quit wondering why this happened and stop second-guessing his motivations. The bottom line is that for whatever reason (and who cares what that might be), this dude—who sounds like far from prize boyfriend material anyway—doesn't want to be in a relationship with you, and you need to accept that.
So what if he's banging some psycho? Do you think he's sweet and forthcoming and emotionally available to her? Of course not! He's already got her so wound up that she's vandalizing your car. (BTW, WTF?)
You're crying over him more than you cried over your ex because this long-distance jackass remains merely a possibility that your memory can paint in the most positive light. Your ex-husband was a real person who lived in the same house as you did. You recall all his ill-timed gastric emissions and half-assed attempts at foreplay. The only difference is that this latest asshat wasn't around often enough to get on your last nerve.
Which brings us to sex. He didn't fuck you because he respected you too much? Um, no! What kind of crazy cocktail are you drinking? Either boyfriend knew all along he didn't want to get further enmeshed or he's pulling some psychotic power maneuver. Either way, you lose.
So let yourself feel sad, bad, and mad; and then move on. Really.
Thrown for a loop? Write Dategirl at firstname.lastname@example.org or c/o Seattle Weekly, 1008 Western Ave., Ste. 300, Seattle, WA 98104.