doahleigh - Holy Waste of Teabags!

I had a dream last night that broke my heart all over again. Ever since the break up, one of the hardest things for me to deal with is the idea of Brad dating someone else. The mere thought, the vision of him with anyone else makes my stomach hurt. We have talked a couple times since that awful Sunday night, and we are both committed to maintaining some kind of friendship. We decided that just because the relationship part wasn’t working very well doesn’t mean that our friendship ever went away or ever has to. So it’s comforting to know that I won’t lose him completely right now. I thought it might be hard to see him, but we met to talk over the weekend and it was like a giant weight was lifted from my heart.

Brad came to mean a lot to me over the last few years. At one point, before we moved back here, he was my everything. My boyfriend, my best friend, my only friend, my family, my constant companion, my confidant. Everything. Having all of that ripped away from me at once was too much to bear, so knowing that I can still hold on to parts of it is helpful. I’m still devastated that we couldn’t make it work, but Sunday was the first day in over a week that I didn’t cry. That was nice.

But after last night’s dream, I feel awful all over again. It was just a dream, it’s not real and I’m no prophet. But it felt exactly as horrible and crushing as I imagined it would. He was seeing someone else, and he couldn’t understand why that would matter to me. It was the kind of dream that lasts all night, scene after scene of him giving his everything to someone else. Not me.

I know Brad has no intention of dating again anytime soon, and I definitely know that’s not the reason he ended our relationship. But that only comforts me so much when I look ahead and know that eventually there will be someone else.

It’s the little things I can’t stand to think about. The little things that girlfriends (or even dates) get that just friends do not. The hand holding. The small touches. The subtle, knowing glances. The extra attention. The adoring smiles. The giggling. The feeling that you are liked, that you’re attractive, that you’re appreciated. I can’t stand to think that he might kiss someone else the way he used to kiss me. Or look at someone else in that certain way.

I’m really glad to keep him in my life even as a friend, but I will forever miss the affection and the privileges that a friend is not allowed. And if I can’t have them, how can I possibly stand knowing that he’s giving them to someone else?

(I thought I was done crying, but here it is again…)

Yesterday I bought a huge blended mocha frappuccino. I never buy coffee drinks except the occasional chai tea when I want to treat myself. This drink was ridiculously huge, incredibly rich, way too expensive and terribly unhealthy. I thought it might make me feel better to buy and enjoy something I normally would never consider.

It didn’t. Frivolous purchases don’t help a broken heart.

Today is the first weekend all summer that I haven’t had plans. It’s my first weekend without Brad. Robin is up north with her boyfriend. I made a list of things I need to get done, thinking if I kept myself busy I wouldn’t notice how lonely and sad I am. But I woke up this morning and I don’t want to do any of those things. It’s a gloomy morning- cloudy, cold, still. It matches my mood. I keep looking at that list, but I can’t get myself to do anything on it. Buy groceries? I can’t face a crowded store. Finish my research paper? Too daunting. Go to the car wash? It’s so far away.

A handful of people have told me to call if I need to. Just to talk or to hang out. I didn’t make any plans though because somehow I thought maybe sitting here alone might feel better. A few weeks ago this might have been like any other Saturday. I’d be getting lots of homework done while Brad slept in. Eventually he’d get up, and we’d probably have plans for the afternoon. If there was nothing planned, we’d eventually get bored and find something to do. Maybe for a few more hours I can just pretend like he’s still sleeping in the other room. Pretend like things are back to normal and nothing fell apart. Except I know it’s not true.

This morning I watched an episode of Gilmore Girls while I ate my cereal. It happened to be the episode where Luke and Lorelei get back together after Emily breaks them up. They had both been miserable, and at the end of the episode Luke knocks on her door, and when she answers he rushes at her. Hugs her, kisses her. I know Brad won’t be knocking on my door, and so now I hate that episode.

Brad hasn’t written anything directly about our break up, but yesterday Facebook told me that he ended his relationship with me. I thanked Facebook for the reminder.

I hoped today might be the first day in a week that I don’t cry, but I didn’t even make it to 9:30. I don’t want to be like this - pathetic and forlorn. At around my age my mom found out her husband was having an affair, she was left alone with five kids, in a big farmhouse she couldn’t afford to heat. Her husband. Cheated on her. Left her. With five kids. My boyfriend didn’t cheat and I don’t have anyone else to take care of. Why am I not as strong as my mom? Why am I not strong and independent? I thought maybe I would be. So why do I feel so broken and empty?

Not long before I started dating Brad I had another pretty serious relationship. We were together almost three years. Things kind of fell apart for us in the second half of those years, and by the end, I was no longer in love with him. But he still loved me, and he still wanted to be with me. Even though I wasn’t in love with him anymore, I still cared for him a lot, and I felt very responsible for his feelings. The day I broke up with him, I watched him cry and held back the urge to take it all back and spare him that hurt. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do—hurt someone I cared about, someone who still loved me.

This is harder. Breaking up with someone I’m still in love with is so much harder. He’s the one who actually said the words, but I had to help push him there. Things were no longer what they should be, but I still loved him and I thought we were going to give this new arrangement a fair chance. He thought we had. He thought we had given us enough chances.

Maybe it’s the right thing to do. It better be because it’s done. But it hurts to know it has to be over when I still love him and want things to work out. It hurts more than I ever imagined it would. It hurt to break up with someone who still loved me, but it hurts so much more to break up with someone I still love.

For the first time, my heart is broken.

Yes I am. And it’s long. So don’t start this if you’re in a hurry. I know how you are, so busy you only have time to skim your favorite blogs these days. Well slow down and set aside a little time for blog-reading. It’s important for your health. Proven scientific fact.

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The other night in class some people in my group started talking about last names. One of the girls is getting married soon, and she has been struggling with what to do about the last name issue. She said she had always planned to keep her last name, but her fiancé had “a really good argument” about why she should change it to his. She didn’t expand on what this “good argument” was, but now she is considering making her current last name into a second middle name.

My interest and deeply-considered feelings on this subject have already been documented on this site, so you know I couldn’t resist joining this conversation. I listened quietly for awhile until I couldn’t hold it anymore, then I jumped in with “So why exactly did you change your mind about keeping your name?”

I never did a clear answer on this from her, but I did share that I plan to keep my last name when I get married. Immediately the whole group looked at my left hand.

Are you engaged though?
No, but I’m really attached to my last name and I’m going to keep it.

Then the used-to-want-to-keep-my-name-until-my-fiancé-had-a-good-argument girl said the thing that makes my head spin every time.

Yeah, that’s what I used to think too. When I was in my “independent stage.” You’ll change your mind when you meet the right guy.

Of all the arguments for changing your last name, this one makes me the most frustrated. If you explain that you just never thought about it before, I can ask you what you might have done if you did think about. If you tell me that you didn’t know you even had a choice, I can ask you what you think now that you know you do. If you say that your last name used to be Ballikker and you couldn’t wait to marry your husband and become a Lopez, I really don’t blame you. If you explain that you want you, your husband and your kids to have the same last name, I can ask you if you ever considered using your last name instead. But when you tell me that you did it because you just love him so much and you’re so proud to be Mrs. Whatever because you’re just so proud of him and oh just wait until you meet the right guy, you’ll see, you’ll change your mind too? I kind of want to take a branding iron to your face.

I believe that you love your man, and I’m sure that you’re proud to be his wife, but the implication is that I don’t (or won’t) love my husband as much. If I did, I’d be tripping over myself to take his name. Or that my well thought out ideas of this whole thing, my personal opinion and decision, will mean nothing when I do finally meet the right guy. I take great offense to that. I can love someone, I can be proud of them and not want to change my name. Please don’t assume that I will change my mind just because you did.

[Before I go any further, I should include a disclaimer. I know that people learn and grow and change over time, so I’m fully aware that I, in fact, might change my mind for a multitude of reasons. But your assumptions only demonstrate that you don’t think I’ve given this serious thought, and that my friend, makes you wrong.]

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In a related story, a few weeks ago a friend said something similar to me. She said, essentially (with no prompting whatsoever - we weren’t even talking about this!): “I used to be like you. I used to think that stuff about keeping your name was important, but then I met Whoever and it didn’t matter anymore. I’d be proud to be Mrs. Whoever, and now I know all that stuff just isn’t important. You’ll see.”

I told her that she was wrong, that that is not the reason she is going to change her name. I may have been brash, but I told her that the real reason is that it’s a tradition of our culture. A lot of people who are in love get married and don’t change their names. Or they hyphenate, or they do a number of other things. They are no less proud or in love than you. If that’s really the reason, then why isn’t he taking your last name? Does he not love you that much? Is he not that proud to be your husband?

In a neutral world where there was no history of this custom, a couple who loved each other greatly and planned to get married might have a conversation about wanting the same last name. And they would discuss what to do—both have his, both have hers, both have both, create something new? And they would figure out together what is the best solution for both of them. Without bias, without preconceived notions, without the pressure of tradition, without the expectations of society, without blinders on. Did my friend have that conversation with her fiancé? No, I know for a fact she did not. And why not? Because we don’t live in that neutral world. We live in a culture that tells us women take their husband’s name, and even if you think you might not want to, it’s something you do for love. Just wait, you’ll see.

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Maybe part of the reason I feel so strongly about keeping my last name is that my own mother has changed hers seven times. She’s had some bad luck with marriage. Of course I wouldn’t get married unless I planned to make it work forever—I’m not planning on divorce—but I’ve seen the reality and so yes, it makes me wary. Let me just demonstrate for you what my mom’s name roller coaster has been like in the last 47 years (names have been altered obviously):

McElm to Wade to McElm to Dodd to Wade to McAlp to McElm to Huizenga

Yes the real McElm and McAlp names sounded that similar, and yes she changed her name to match her children’s (”Wade” – my dad’s last name) after her second divorce. The point is that somewhere in all of this, she kind of lost her identity. She has had so many different names that she doesn’t have any real connection to any of them anymore. Her newest name doesn’t fit her at all in my opinion, and even though she seems to have finally met the right guy, I don’t know if the final name change was really necessary. And even though she doesn’t seem that connected to any of her previous names, the one that seems the most genuinely her, the one that seems the most natural, is McElm, her original name.

I don’t want that to be me. I don’t want to be this and then that and then this again. I know, I know, if I get married it should be forever and that won’t matter. But the name that fits me, the name that represents me and feels like home is mine. I don’t want another one, no matter how much I love someone.

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The final thing that I’m thinking about while I’m on this topic is this idea of the last name as a gift. I read on a message board recently that a woman’s fiancé had always planned on “giving his name to his wife” and that he felt like this was an important gift that she was rejecting by keeping her own name. That seems silly to me. I know he genuinely thinks it’s a gift because he’s probably been taught all along that it is. That someday he would meet the right girl and he would give her his name, and that he shouldn’t give that away until he meets the right woman. Huh, kind of like how girls are taught to save their virginity and only give it to the right guy. Why do you get the gift of my vagina and I get the gift of your name? Well, I don’t want it. So I’m sorry that your gift is being rejected but maybe you should have gotten to know me and my preferences better before deciding what kind of gift to give me. I’d much prefer a trip to Europe. Why isn’t that a tradition? The customary free trip to Europe when you get married? Instead of marking on your marriage license what your new name is, you mark where you’d like to travel: Czech Republic, Ireland, Italy, Poland?

The worst thing I’ve heard is this idea of women having to earn their future husband’s last name. One guy I know says that he basically demands that his fiancé take his last name. If she doesn’t want it, then she doesn’t need to marry him. Or I’ve heard of guys who say their girlfriend needs to change something about herself—her looks, her behavior, her opinions—before she can be allowed to carry the Whatever name. And what bothers me more is that women go for this! Oh okay, I so badly want to be Mrs. Whatever, I’ll shape up. I’ll change myself, just please please please give me the gift of your last name.

I better stop, I’m getting very sarcastic and people are going to start getting annoyed. Wait, is anyone even still reading? If you are, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. You can disagree all you want (and I really do respect your choice to change your name if that’s what you’ve done or want to do, this isn’t an attack on you or your decision), as long as you don’t call me bad names. I might even allow that if the bad names are framed by intelligent, thought-provoking words.

It’s been a week and a half since Brad moved out. The first week wasn’t very realistic though because Brad was in and out a few times to get what remained of his stuff. Plus Robin was gone all week, so roommate living hadn’t quite started. But I have been able to make a few observations about the new arrangement so far. Some good, some bad, some kind of strange.

Good
- I can buy what I want at the grocery store. I bought some new things on Sunday that Brad never wanted to try.
- I don’t have to coordinate meals with anyone. I swear we were never hungry at the same time.
- My milk lasts longer. In the past Brad would finish his Vitamin D gallon and then steal from my fat free milk before he got around to buying more.
- (Why are all the good things relating to food?)
- I yank and tug and twist the covers in bed to my exact comfort with no concern for anyone else!

Bad
- Computer problems need to be solved over the phone.
- It’s now a twenty minute drive to see my boyfriend. I don’t have that kind of time but on weekends.
- I now have the bathroom with the tiny stall shower and I HATE IT!
- There’s nobody around to kill insects and spiders.
- There’s nobody around to open the hard-to-open things. Though Robin did get a stubborn cap off for me last night, so next time we’ll see if that’s just a fluke.

Strange
- Apparently he makes his bed every morning now. He was always the last one up when we lived together, yet the bed never got made (which I actually prefer). But now… his is always made.
- I’m still not sleeping well. I thought with his loud breathing gone I might actually get some sound sleep. Not yet.
- I still walk around in my underwear a lot even though I have a roommate. Good thing Robin doesn’t care. (And yes, she does it too. I know I just turned you all on.)

Also, thanks to everyone for the nice things you said about this situation. It’s hard to admit something isn’t working right, but you all made me feel like we really did make the right decision. The words ‘logical’ and ‘mature’ and ‘sensible’ were thrown around too, so of course those didn’t hurt either.

Wednesday was a perfect summer day in Michigan, so in the afternoon I decided to check out the Riverwalk downtown. It’s about a two-mile trek, but it took me almost two hours because I was taking pictures and checking things out and stopping to sit in the sun along the way. It was lovely.

But when I was about an eighth of a mile from finishing the loop I was suddenly attacked by a bird. A mother fucking little piece of shit bird. It was one of those little red-winged black birds that I used to think were pretty.

The first time it dive-bombed my head, I wasn’t sure what was happening, so I brushed my hair with my hand and kept walking. But the bird kept loudly squawking above me and flapping around like crazy. Then it came down and hit my head full force! This time I screamed like Carrie Bradshaw and started running. The guy walking 15 yards ahead looked at me like I was a maniac, and when I explained that the bird was attacking me (while running at him and violently shaking my head and arms), he was unmoved and just kept walking. Meanwhile the little bird bastard was still squawking and flapping above me. He didn’t come at me again, but he didn’t chill out until I was well out of his zone.

Wikipedia explains:

The Red-Winged Blackbird can be very aggressive while defending its territory. It will attack much larger birds, such as crows, ravens, magpies, hawks, and osprey if they enter.

Uh yeah. What the hell dude, I’m not an osprey. And the Riverwalk is not your territory. You can totally live there, but I wasn’t trying to move in on you. I was just trying to walk through. Back off.

Also, apparently this bird is an omnivore:

It feeds primarily on plant materials, including seeds from weeds and waste grain such as corn and rice, but about a quarter of its diet consists of insects and other small animals.

I think to that they might want to add “human head” to the list.

I used to scoff at people who had a fear of birds. They always explained that they thought the birds were going to attack their head. Haha yeah right, how silly. Birds don’t do that. But now I know.

YES THEY DO!

My long weekend sure didn’t feel long, it just felt busy. Friday we went to Jackson (where B’s family lives), ate at my favorite pizza joint, visited my favorite ice cream place and saw some fireworks. Saturday we attended a summer backyard party with some friends and then headed home. On Sunday Brad moved out.

He packed up all his stuff and moved into a new apartment about 20 minutes away. This makes sense since my friend Robin moved in the previous weekend, and as spacious as the as our apartment is, there’s really not room for three people. One of us had to go.

Actually, this has been planned for awhile. A few months actually. It was back then that I sort of had an epiphany: maybe Brad isn’t my future husband. Maybe he is. But maybe he’s not. And what if I spend another year or two, on top of the three I’ve already spent, thinking that he is and dedicating myself to this relationship, and then he decides he doesn’t want to spend his life with me? We both know that marriage isn’t a real option until we’re done with school (or even longer, most likely), but I have long considered Brad my future husband. It was just about timing and getting things in order.

But it suddenly became apparent that maybe Brad wasn’t entirely on the same page. The realization came about because I presented Brad with this scenario and I asked him if he could decidedly say that I was who he wanted to be with forever. Did he know that I was the one? Was he ready to commit to that notion? Was he ready to start living life as a “we”? The answer was basically no.

Right now Brad is trying to finish school so he can find a good job and then start his life, and even though I think his personal goals can be folded into our mutual goals, he wants to focus on himself right now. He’s not ready to say for sure that this thing we’ve got going is a forever thing. He’s not ready yet to adjust his life in the ways required for us to one day, eventually, get married.

It’s not that I want to get married right now (I don’t at all), and I don’t even want to be engaged right now. That’s not it. Here’s the bottom line: there is a way you live your life when you are committed to the future of a relationship and there is a way you live your life when you’re just a girlfriend or boyfriend (and no this has nothing to do with sex in case you think ‘committed’ can only mean not having sex with other people). I want to start living our lives like the former, Brad is content living our lives like the latter. And that’s why there needed to be a change.

So here were the options: continue living with a guy who is not committed to the future of our relationship, or have him move out. I chose what I think is the lesser of two evils. I don’t like either option, but since he thought moving out was a good idea too, that’s what we decided would happen.

We’re still together though. The thing is, we love being together. He’s a really great person to be with, but I just can’t give it everything I have like I was before. I can’t be in a committed relationship with plans for the future if he’s not in it with me. But I don’t want to lose a great boyfriend just because he may not be my future husband. Brad is a good boyfriend, he’s just not a good life partner right now. And since I’m in no hurry to be married at this stage of life, I’m going to keep the good boyfriend around. He just won’t be around quite as much…

I don’t know if this is the right decision. Maybe I deserve better and I should ditch him now and start living the single life. Or maybe I can’t expect anything better and I should be lucky to have such a good guy even if he doesn’t want to commit to our relationship just yet. I really have no idea, so I’m just doing what feels right for right now, and we’ll see what the future brings.

I want to do this. Quit everything and travel around the world for a year. I know everyone wants to do that, but I really do. In a year when I finish my graduate program I could totally quit everything I’ve got going on right now and just go. That gives me a year to save up money and make plans. I know it’s not exactly spontaneous, but it’s better than nothing.

There are so many places I want to go, and it seems like there are never enough vacation days to do it all. And of course there’s never even kind of enough money. I’m always yearning to go go go. Somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. But it’s not very often that I actually go. So I want to do this.

Problem is, I don’t want to do it alone. I know I could. I could travel the world alone and it would be fine. But I don’t want to. I want to make plans and make decisions and experience it all with someone else (or more than one someone, that’s cool too). Wouldn’t it be fun if a small group of bloggers who became friends online all decided to get together and travel the world for a year? Even six months, I could handle six months. I think that’s a great story. I really want to do this!

So who’s with me? Who’s gonna do this with me?

(If you’re not a blogger friend but someone I know in real life, I’d love to do this with you too. Feel free to speak up.)

Things are a little wacky around here right now. This website I mean, not my life. Well that too, but I don’t want to talk about that right now. So the website… Brad is moving me over to a new host (or something, I don’t know) and for some reason the header reverted back to an old design. Sorry about the reminder of snow and ice in the middle of summer.

My email isn’t working right now either, and who knows what will happen with comments and links and all that. We are Brad is working diligently to get it all straightened out, and hopefully everything will look and act normal soon. Maybe even better!