Poor Jake was torn. Did I mention he was the brooding type? He couldn’t seem to decide whether or not to choose Melissa over me. At the time, I was the much more exciting choice, but a less predictable alternative. Did he marry Melissa and have a relatively content life of good friendship and companionship? After all, weren’t the best marriages based on friendship? Or was he going to wait for that person who made his insides twist and clench, his heart beat so fast that it felt like it would explode out of his chest? Apparently, I was the latter. I started to feel more like his therapist than any sort of potential girlfriend.
In the end, Jake chose the safety of friendship and companionship, but was that so bad? I concluded that it was, over time; maybe not for him, but certainly for me. I wanted more than that. I wanted the butterflies and the passion as much as I wanted the loving friendship and companionship. Shoot me, I wanted it all.
Case #3: Andrew, with his classic American frat boy good looks. I met him at the UW business school and we hung out with many of the same friends. He had blue eyes, dimples, blond hair, and an athlete’s build. He grew up in Missoula, Montana, and was loyal to both his fraternity and family. We had been acquaintances for several years after college and one night, while a bunch of us were out for drinks at an Irish bar at the Pike Place Market, he spent the evening flirting with me. When it came time to leave, he didn’t have a ride home, so I offered to drive him. He invited me into his apartment and we proceeded to make out. I was twenty-six years old then. Three years later he broke by heart.
Andrew was the first in our relationship to tell me he loved me. He had pursued me and I fell for his charm and looks. He was a Finance major and started working for one of those big global consulting firms right out of school. I was at MS as a Systems Analyst and both of our careers were taking off. On weekends, we met up with our group of friends and went to pubs, tailgated at Husky games, and celebrated birthdays and promotions at the trendiest Seattle restaurants. Andrew, me, and all of our friends worked sixty plus hour weeks, went out for cocktails, double dated to the movies and held frequent house and dinner parties. Most of us had roommates, so we would hang out at each other’s apartments, get drunk often, and then Andrew and I would have sex. Often. We were perfect for each other, or so I thought.
As we headed into our late twenties, things started to get more serious. We were no longer in entry level positions. Our friends started pairing off into those that dated since college and broke up, or those that got married. Since we were still together, by default we were heading in the direction of the latter group.
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have been surprised. We were never that perfectly happy couple. It was a flawed relationship since the first break up, which was probably where it should’ve ended. We had broken up twice before the final one. The second time, he wanted a break and just didn’t think we were right for each other. A few months later, he was begging to have me take him back. He said he loved me, he missed me, and he started doing things like fixing my car and making sure my tires weren’t flat. I know now that getting back together with him then was a huge mistake. Neither of us was brave enough to let the other go. It was just easier to deny the truth and fall back into old patterns. Hindsight is 20:20 and all that.
During that whole period, I’d been going to a lot of weddings. What started out as a fun relationship wasn’t so fun anymore. I was seriously wondering if Andrew was the one and whether or not marriage was in our future. If Andrew wasn’t the one, then I needed to make a decision soon. I was twenty-eight years old and my biological clock was ticking louder and louder. When we last got back together, I warned him that I’d had enough. If he wanted to leave one more time, that was it. This was his last chance. I loved him, but we weren’t going to do this to each other anymore. He still wanted to come back, so I took him back. I brought up the idea of marriage a couple of times, but he remained mostly silent during those discussions.
Andrew’s job required him to travel a lot. For a year and a half, he commuted back and forth from Seattle to San Diego. He’d called me one night and was sounding a little out of sorts. “How are you, Jules?”
“I’m good, just watching a little TV. How were things today at work?” I had asked casually.
“Good. I got some positive feedback from the Project Manager here today. She seems to have taken me under her wing.” He paused. “I don’t think I’m coming home this weekend. There’s too much work to do and I have to work over the weekend.”