how do you recover from being dumped over the phone–from 2000 miles away? Thursday, July 10 2008

apparently, Sex in the City and cookie dough.

I called my very dear and always supportive friend Leona and told her what had happened.  Of course she responded, “Thank God! He didn’t treat you right anyway.”  Now, Leona had only met Dennis once, but like many others, had heard my stories.

randomly, i think we all know that women are much more vocal about the bad things their men do.  unless there’s jewelry involved, i suppose.  but Dennis had often fallen victim to people not liking him because of my bad stories.  women should share more good stories.  especially if you have even the smallest desire that your friends like him.

Leona took me to Red Rocks, then to a casino, and then back to her place for a Sex and the City marathon and a lot of cookie dough.

oh, and Dennis visited again. Wednesday, April 16 2008

after weeks and weeks of sappy emails and tearful phone calls, Dennis was coming!

i expected that he would help me get back to the goodness and light, but the truth is that that wasn’t really his role in my life.  that’s just not what he did.

he was miserable at his job, too.  and i think it was really getting to him that we were so far apart.  he arrived and we had a great time the first night.  lots of sex and ‘wow, am i happy to see you!’ 

it didn’t last.  i don’t really remember all of the details, but we argued a lot on that trip.  he was ornery and disagreeable and i was high strung because i needed everything to go perfectly.  he wanted to go hiking on Mt. Charleston and i was prickly about it.  i really made it not fun.  then it was his turn.  i wanted a dinner and dancing night and he didn’t want to dress up, didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to meet my friends.

we had sex just hours before he left and it was completely unmemorable.  we should have been filled with emotion, but weren’t.  i only remember our last kiss because it was tense.  he didn’t look back to me before walking into the airport, and, even at the time, i didn’t know if i cried because he was leaving or because he seemed happy to go.

that last month was amazing. Saturday, January 5 2008

so i was moving across the country. 

i spent my last three weeks packing up 10 years worth of stuff.  i made a deal with myself that if something cost more to move than it did to buy, i wasn’t taking it.  this ended up being most of my stuff since i was an avid Goodwill furniture buyer.  i donated over 1000 articles of clothing to Goodwill. 

in between the packing, i was trying to say goodbye to my friends and just generally have a good time.  Dennis and i were truly in love.  we’d had a huge argument in the middle of March, which was partly due to some ridiculous overreactions (both of us).  looking back, i also think that Dennis was really uncomfortable with the prospect of my leaving.  i wasn’t perceptive enough to realize how my decision to apply and take a job across the country affected Dennis.  once we knew i was leaving, arguing was not an option.

we spent the month just loving wach other.  we spent a lot of time together.  i spent a lot of time reassuring him that we would be okay. 

there was a wonderful night that we met up after work, walked home, went for sushi, got some wine, and went home.  we had had a long standing monday night date to eat dinner, watch tv, and spend the night at his apartment.  this particular monday, we did all of those things, but there was so much love in the air.  we were intermittently watching tv, talking, and having sex.  at some point we were wrestling and i used my ninja skills to get his forefinger and thumb and said, “don’t make me snap you in half!“  appropriately, we started howling.  laughing uncontrolably.  it is one of my fondest memories from that month.

the other is of the night we actually and completely realized what was happening to us.  one of the local universities has a huge carnival event every spring with rides, food, concerts, and other fun.  they usually bring in a big-name act for at least one of the concerts.  that year it was the Shins.  Dennis and i were both excited to see them and they put on a great show.  it was a little chilly and i was standing with Dennis’ arms wrapped around me.  they started playing ”New Slang”–a song that we later referred to as “the tearjerker”–and the mood of the song moved us both.  we stood there and cried in each other’s arms.  i’ve never been in love as much as that moment. 

The last few days were a little crazy.  i was sending most of my stuff to the west coast via Amtrak and had to time it so that my stuff wouldn’t sit anywhere for too long (they charge for storage).  i stayed with my mom the last week i was home, and it was difficult to be in the ‘burbs, mostly because it meant being much farther from my friends than i was used to.  the night before i left, i had a wonderful going-away party.  you never know how much you’ll miss your friends until you’re leaving.  Dennis spent the night with me at my mom’s.  we took the last load of stuff to Amtrak in the morning and dropped him off at his apartment.  it was raining, and we stood in his doorway for several moments.  there was crying, kissing, two declarations of love, and a long hug.

Dennis later said that we should have broken up before i left.   

the Beehive. Wednesday, December 12 2007

I love this story.

like i said, I’d spent what seemed like forever trying to get the attention of this warm, scruffy music seller that i worked with.  i strutted past the music desk every chance i got and i even made a rule in the café that i was the only staffer allowed to take out the garbage because it meant walking by the music desk.  how many girls do you know who’ll do that for ya’?

so, finally, in January of 1999, Dennis asks me if i’d like to get some coffee after class.  i tried to remain calm, and i might have succeeded for as long as it took me to get from the music desk to the café.  then i started screaming and jumping up and down like a contestant on the Price is Right.  Dennis later told me that he heard every word of my excitement from across the building.

the next morning i head off to class, looking cute in jeans and a sweater, wearing my favorite winter shoes.  now, it must be mentioned that i have a penchant for falling.  i have a weak ankle that gives out every once in a while.  there’s foreshadowing for ya’.

after class, i met Dennis at the designated corner on campus and we walked to the Beehive.  the Beehive was this old old old theater that had been turned into the second location of a local coffeehouse.  i have a special place in my heart for the original Beehive because it was one of the places i spent my nights as a teen.  i think they were open 24/7.  i would steal my mom’s car in the middle of the night and drive my friends to the coffeehouse to play cards or just sit and talk.  later, when the second locale opened up, we made friends with the baristas and would hang out there all night.  at fifteen, i had a short romance with an artist named Andrew who cleaned the theater at night in exchange for a place to paint and rehearse (he played several instruments).  he seduced me with his serenades more than once, with multiple instruments and his many talents.  but that was many years before this date.

by this time, the Beehive had expanded to include a bar and a smoking lounge on the upper floor.  so we went in, ordered our coffee, and headed upstairs–Dennis was smoking at that time.

there was a long flight of stairs interrupted midway by a landing.  i had ordered a café au lait.  what this meant for me was that i had a short, wide, completely filled ceramic cup of coffee.  i was most worried about spilling it all over myself.  what i did not envision was the edge of my shoe catching on one of the stairs on our way up.

in slow motion, the line of my ankle, then knee, then hip, then ribs, elbow, and forehead all reached down to meet the incline of the staircase.  i actually had time to think “this cannot be happening.”  at the end of the fall, i rested my forehead on the stair in closest proximity and then set my coffee on the landing. what i’m proud of is that through the whole event, i didn’t spill a drop of coffee…years of coffeehouse training.

i looked up and Dennis was on the landing.  without a laugh, smile, or smirk, he reached his hand down and asked if i was okay.  i think i fell in love with him at that very moment.

i would fall many more times…and eventually there was laughing…but not that first time.

and now…Dennis. Tuesday, November 13 2007

the short history is as follows:

Dennis and i met while working in one of the major bookstores.  he worked in music and i worked in the café.  he was a warm, sensitive type with a scruffy face and really beautiful eyes.  he also liked black metal, the riverdales, the cure,  and tori amos.  what can i say…i like ‘em complex.

i tried (completely unsuccessfully) to play it cool for 6 months.  he finally asked me to get a cup of coffee on January 23, 1999.  see aside, the Beehive. 

the first two years were tumultuous at best.  he was wrangling feelings for several exes, dealing with an untreated clinical depression, some drug use, etc.  and didn’t introduce me, or even refer to me, as his girlfriend.  we just spent 5 nights a week together…you know, as friends.

the next two years were literally a roller coaster.  i honestly believe we “broke up” every six to eight weeks, mostly because he “couldn’t handle it”.   there was a lovely (read: horrible and embarrasing) incident at the Library, some wonderful (read: fabulous) trips to Chicago, Boston, NYC, Montreal, Toronto, and more.  we liked to travel.   

in spring of 2004, before the Vegas trip, i explained that i thought we should break up for real.  he was 29 and living at home–his mother still did his laundry, paid his bills, and cooked for him, and he had no driver’s license.  i told him that i loved him, but that i needed him to grow up.  if that couldn’t happen, then we shouldn’t bother continuing our relationship.

he responded with, “so you want to break up because i never took home-ec?!” 

that’s the kind of guy he was.  there was a short period of vague i-hate-you-ness (this is where the Vegas trip falls), followed by an eventual reunion.  this would basically bring us up-to-date.

in my opinion, he treated me pretty badly those first years, and truthfully, i don’t know why i stayed.  i thought we were meant to be.  the worst part is that he was so inconsistent in his affections that when he did fall in love with me, i thought it wouldn’t last.  i absolutely didn’t get it.  i constantly anticipated the next breakup, or at least the next book-throwing argument, and it caused me to rehash his bad moments over and over again.  i didn’t believe in his love until it was too late.

since i’ll probably say lots of mean things about Dennis,  i’ll say this:  i love(d)  him deeply. 

he is a genius, and when he wants to be, he’s warm, sensitive, loyal, caring, and sweet.  there is a lot of love and a lot of anger in him; they make him one of the most passionate people i’ve ever met.  he is unique in a world of carbon copies, and i will always miss him.

let’s get back to the story.

where to begin? Thursday, November 8 2007

i will not start at the beginning.  i really can’t.  it’s just too much, and it’s not really what this journal is supposed to be about.

i’ll start with…the weekend of May 4th, 2004.  this is an important weekend in my life, and this post will probably take a while.

 the important information is that i started dating Dennis in January of 1999.  we’d had 5 rocky years by this point, but we were still in it.  a few months earlier, i’d gotten an evite from one of my oldest friends to attend a group trip to Las Vegas.  Alan and his friends had been going there twice a year or so for the past few years and it had been forever since we’d seen each other as we were living on opposite ends of the continent.  i was feeling like i needed a break from the rut of workandschool, so i enthusiastically said i’d attend.

i arrived late Friday night.  late late.  i got a cab directly to NY, NY, dropped my bags with the bellhop and immediately went in to see “Zumanity”, the sexiest Cirque de Soleil show on the Strip.  Alan introduced me to his boyfriend, Darren, and we all went in.  Alan being Alan (and perhaps i could relate more of that later), he got called up on stage at the end of the show.  He was wonderful!  we left the show exhilarated.  or at least i did.  We trucked over to the Monte Carlo (the most fabulous smelling casino on the Strip) and dropped my bags.  Alan and Darren said they were hitting the sheets, and for fear of being a third wheel, i decided to walk off some of my excitement.  i think i got back before the sun came up.

the following day was lazy.  lots of lounging by the pool.  i remember a creepy guy who was hitting on Alan by rubbing his groin.  ick.  and i remember meeting Rick.  Rick is handsome enough, funny, and has a way of making you know that he’s interested in what you’re saying.  he was easy to talk to, interesting, and became more attractive as the day wore on.

the big plans for that night were dinner and dancing.  we were there to abuse our bodies with whatever substances amused us most.  for the record, mine was ecstacy.

we had a wonderful dinner at Positano?, a Wulfgang Puck restaurant in the Venetian.  Dinner conversation was delightful.  Rick noticed that he and i were the only two with red wine.  i met a lot of interesting people that night.  really wonderful people.  the night continued with a handful of danceclubs.  i lost my first $100 in 8 minutes at the Palms.  i’ve never gambled there since.  we ended up at a fantastic, no-longer-there spot called Seven.  great music.  great atmosphere.  lots of other dancers on lots of substances.

as i remember it, a man sat down next to me at the table we had conquered out on the patio.  he was foreign and a little over the top and a lot annoying.  he kept saying, “whassup dog-ie?!”  he brought me a drink, and i, being well versed in the ways of deplorable men, refused.  he contested and the whole thing ended up in Rick drinking the drink.  later i asked him if he was feeling okay.

 m:”are you feeling alright?  you shouldn’t have drunk that drink.”

r: “why? why didn’t you drink it?”

m: “don’t you know anything?!  you don’t ever drink a drink from someone you don’t   know, unless the bartender hands it to you.”

r: “that’s dumb.  why?”

m, with ‘hello?’ expression: ”because people drug drinks!”

r, with exaggerated face: “oooohhh.  do you think he wanted to have sex with me?”

m, giggling: “who knows?  you should just be careful.”

AND THIS IS WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING.

what i heard next was, “why, would you want to have sex with me?” 

i know that i heard this because i deliberated in my head.  remember Dennis?  yeah, i’d forgotten him until that moment, too.  i didn’t really want to tell Rick about Dennis.  and yet i felt guilty.  so i said, “well, i would want to…”  even thinking in my head that this statement left me a trap door incase i was too guilt ridden to actually do it.  i would want to, but i have a boyfriend.  i would want to but i just met you.  whatever.

and honest to jesus, we skipped over this incredibly awkward moment and Rick and i were attached at the hip the rest of the night.  until 10am.  in that time we danced, giggled, snuggled on a couch, and just talked.  and i’m willing to believe it was the ecstacy, but it felt incredibly intimate.

we caught up with the others, who were all playing Blackjack at the Monte Carlo.  i got coaxed into sitting down, even though i was pretty done with gambling after the Palms.  i decided to play small–$40.  i am happy to say that i turned that $40 in $260 before i told the dealer and my friends that i had to quit because it felt “greedy” to keep winning.   and yes, they made fun of me.  i still love the Monte Carlo, and truly, they have never stolen my money.

the next day, Sunday, i stayed awake.  god knows why.  i went to eat breakfast with Alan and Darren; we did some sight seeing, walked the Strip.  we returned to the hotel and i went to find Rick at the pool.  most of the groups’ flights left around 6, so everyone was starting to think about getting ready to go.  Rick asked me if i wanted to get something to eat, and, of course, i agreed.  we sat in the brewery, and he said, “so about last night.”  i cut him off with a tattered and babble-y comment about how he didn’t need to be embarrassed…that it was the drugs…what happens in Vegas…blah, blah, blah. 

he cut me off and said, “Melissa, I didn’t ask you to have sex with me.  You’re not really my type.”

OUCH!  and my very very clever response was, “well…i guess i’m the one who should be embarrassed then.  my apologies.”

nevertheless, Rick and i spent the remaining hours trying to be alone.  Rick finally figured something out and asked if he could shower in my room.  he showered.  i did everything in my grasp not to try and join him in there.  he came out, and we stumbled over our goodbyes.  i told him again that i was sorry for the confusion, and that i really enjoyed his company.  and to my enormous surprise, he kissed me.  a wonderful, sensual kiss; he even licked my lip just a little.  it took my breath away.  and he said, “i was wondering what it would feel like to kiss your lips with that lipring in.  it’s nice.”  i’m not sure i spoke.

most of my new friends left that evening.  my flight wasn’t until 7:15am the next morning.  at that point, i no longer had a hotel room, so i decided to stay awake all night that night too.  i roamed the Strip, went back to Seven (Sunday wasn’t their best night), and eventually ended up at a Blackjack table.  i think i put down $80.  i don’t know because it lasted me all night long.  at 6:15 i was on a serious winning streak.  i could not leave the table.  i told myself i would leave when i lost two times in a row.  at 6:40, i panicked.  at 6:50, i asked the pit boss to call me a cab–have it waiting.  i left the cage with $640.

believe it or not, i made it to the gate before 7:15.  unfortunately, Northwest Airlines has a policy that they will give away your seat if you are not there 10 minutes before departure.  the plane was still at the gate, but i wasn’t allowed to get on it.  i had been awake for 45 hours and i wouldn’t get to sleep for another 3.

arrangements were made.  coffee was drunk.  it took 3 flights and a three hour drive to get home. 

i was exhausted. 

and i had fallen head over heels with the City of Sin.