There are moments in my dating history that I would like to forget and push as far back in my mind as possible. But sometimes you do have to drag those bad memories out to the surface because you know (or hope you know) that your experience might be of benefit to someone else. And isn’t that what blogging is all about?
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Several years ago, I met a guy who was all wrong for me, but at the time, it all seemed perfectly right. He was tall and nice looking and it didn’t hurt that he boasted a great physique for a 51-year-old man. Yes, I was attracted — very attracted, but I knew that we were as different as two people could be. I knew it right from the beginning and I’m sure he did to, but both of us chose to ignore our instincts. He was the quintessential “bad boy,” and since I’ve not had too much experience in that dating department, I took the precarious leap in going out with this man.
Without going into detail, our dating relationship waxed and waned for two years. The word dysfunctional is too light a word to describe what we both put each other through during that time. Toward the end of the second year, he told me that he was moving to California. I can only tell you that I felt some surge of relief. Distance would end what the two of us couldn’t. Despite our dysfunctional ways, I honestly thought that we would say our good-byes in person. It was only weeks after his announcement about moving that I received a call from him now settled in southern California.
During those first few months after his move, he would call periodically. Our conversations were primarily forgettable. I only remember that I forced myself to talk and laugh at things that I neither found interesting nor funny. Our relationship charade still continued across those 3,000 miles. And as much as I hate to admit it, I even continued to take his calls despite a voice mail message to me one day asking for Patty. No matter how much I rationalize it, there’s no way Patty sounds anything like Marian. And yet, for some reason, I still hung on until the bathroom incident.
I was cleaning the bathroom one night when the phone rang. My caller id showed his number. The phone rang, the caller id screen still showed his number, and with that I made a decision. I needed to scrub the bathroom floor.