Just another love story. Part two: a summer apart

After writing and mailing the ‘Dear John’ letter to Blue Eyes, it was time for my summer of fun. I procured two jobs right away so that I had money to do what I needed and wanted to do. I had rent and tuition to save up for as well. I entered university with many years of work experience under my belt so finding jobs was easy. I worked during the day as the office manager for a talented commercial photographer and at night, for extra money during summer break, I worked at a frozen yogurt shop. I was renting a room in an apartment with three other girls, and they were partiers. When I wasn’t working, I was mostly having a blast. There was hardly a moment to think about Blue Eyes, and the fact that he had not written me back. I mean, I thought we could still be friends, but apparently not.

My summer included pool parties, bar hopping, and short trips out of town with the roommates and friends. Although at first we alternated designated drivers, once everyone realized I didn’t drink a whole lot, and as the summer wore on, I often just volunteered to be the designated driver. Being the DD also generally kept me on a straight and narrow path back to my apartment after the partying versus off to more intimate parties of the coupling variety. On my designated driver nights I witnessed what I liked to call the many personalities of the drunken female roommate. Me, personally, I am a goofy drunk. I get kind of loud, I tell jokes, I laugh at everything. My roommates on the other hand, not quite as fun. First there was the roommate that as soon as she got a few drinks in her, the shirt came off and she was ready for “anything.” Then there was the angry drunk, the one who immediately became argumentative and belligerent after a few too many, and lastly there was the sad and lonely drunk, once inebriated, she wanted to drown her sorrows in more liquor until she finally passed out. She was always the hardest to get in the car. As I spent much of my time sober at these parties, I also started to notice something about the guys… most of them were assholes. I mean I like sex as much as the next gal, but being objectified, not so much. I was never much for objectifying men, so why would I want to be treated like a piece of ass. It was pretty easy to turn most of them down.

Blue Eyes’ summer was spent living at home with his parents and having to follow his narcissistic mother’s archaic rules. I had not met her at this point, but I know her and I have heard all the stories. Blue Eyes had a summer job, and most of his friends were home for the summer. His annoying little brother, having just graduated high school and about to go off to college himself, was there to torment him. Blue Eyes told all his friends about my dear john letter and garnered as much sympathy as possible by being fixed up on numerous dates with “easy” girls who would help him forget all about me. He says he was too miserable or too shy to do much with them. Um, okay. My guess is he had a pretty good summer. He said by the time he was ready to return to school, he was “over me?”

As summer break came to a close, I moved from the apartment I was in to a one bedroom I would share with my dorm mate from the previous semester. The first person to come back to town and contact me after break was the other guy. The guy I was so physically attracted to from earlier in the year. We made a date to see the Prince movie, “Purple Rain.” I adore Prince, so does (did?) he. The date went fine, but when we got back to my apartment, I realized I no longer had any feelings for the other guy, sexual or otherwise. We said our good-byes and that was that. Later that week I was working my job at the yogurt shop when I noticed Blue Eyes’ car parked outside the pizza and beer joint further down the strip. As soon as I saw that car, my heart skipped a beat, something happened right then. I realized I wanted to see Blue Eyes. I realized I wanted to see him soon. I honestly had not missed him that summer, or really thought much about him, but now something was different. I felt a burning desire to see his face, to see his smile. I guess I had more feelings for him than I had originally realized. I went back to the yogurt shop after my break and worked my shift. Every top 40 love song from 1984 played through the sound system while I worked that afternoon at the yogurt shop.

I decided to call Blue Eyes at his fraternity and invite him over to the yogurt shop for a snack, on me. At first he seemed hesitant to accept my offer, but with a little sweet talk, he gave in. Blue Eyes arrived at the yogurt shop with his roommate, the one that for some reason didn’t like me (probably still doesn’t). I served them both frozen yogurt and drinks. I talked a little with Blue Eyes, asked him how his summer had been, he was pretty reserved with his answers. Not sure what he told his roommate (that I had broken his heart, ha, not likely), but the guy fairly well ignored me. After finishing his yogurt, the roommate left, possibly feeling like a third wheel in a conversation he never wanted to be in anyway. Blue Eyes stayed a little while longer until I had to lock up and clean up. No guest allowed after lockup. I am a rule keeper.  I told Blue Eyes I hoped to see him again soon.

Blue Eyes did call me the next day to set up a date. My roommate returned to town and settled herself into our new apartment. Things were going well. Blue Eyes and I were seeing each other often. He was sweet, kind, and gentle, unlike most of the other college guys. He was quirky and funny and in some ways shy, and in others completely extroverted. He was a difficult one for me to figure out. My roommate was gone a lot, mostly working, so Blue Eyes and I had a lot of alone time in the apartment to get to know each other. We weren’t exclusive at this point, but my feelings were growing and I think he was starting to trust that I wasn’t writing another Dear John letter behind his back.

And then one night, I was home with my roommate, and Blue Eyes stood me up. We had planned to meet up. He was going to come by the apartment after class and we would grab a bite and go from there. Blue Eyes did not drink, at all, and did not do bars or clubs or parties for the most part. Our dates included eating, studying, movies, and making out. That day, Blue Eyes never showed, and he never called. Being who I am, more than anything, I worried about him. I worried that he had been in an accident. I worried that he was sick again. I just worried. My roommate was not thrilled that we were dating so much anyway and she told me to forget about him. She wanted to go out, so after enough time had passed without hearing from Blue Eyes, I took her up on her offer and we met friends at a bar.

The next day Blue Eyes showed up at the apartment looking like a lost puppy. I now know that look very well. He told me he was sorry. I told him I was happy he had not died in a car accident. He asked if I had waited for him all night. I told him no, that I had gone out. He looked horrified and relieved at the same time. He wanted to know where I had gone, who I had been with. Really? I didn’t ask him where he had been, but he volunteered. He told me his ex-girlfriend had just arrived back in town and she was going to be attending classes again. She wanted to casually meet up with him. He told her he had a date, but that he would meet her before coming to my place. As it turns out, he ended up not leaving her place, and not calling me. He said he lost track of time and it was too late to call me and he fell asleep there, but nothing happened. He slept on the sofa. I told him I didn’t really care what had happened, but that if he wanted to try and have a relationship with her again, he just needed to tell me and I would move on. He said no. He was sorry. He had no feelings for his ex-girlfriend. I am not a jealous person and I believed him.

At the time, I had no idea how messed up he or his ex-girlfriend were (or are). I had no idea of their rather disgusting sexual escapades when they were “dating.” I had no idea that I was in a budding relationship with a sex addict. I figured something sexual happened and that he clearly did not want to talk about it. He seemed disgusted with himself and I didn’t linger on it. We were just starting to date, and I had blown him off the semester before and I had had sexual intercourse with the guy, that night. So who am I to judge. I just didn’t want him leading either of us on. He and I had not made any promises to each other. I asked him to please call me next time if he planned to cancel, so that I would not worry about him.

As part of his disclosure process last year, thirty years after the fact, he told me they had performed oral sex on each other that night. And that he had, indeed, slept on the couch. All I have ever asked for is the truth. How ironic that that is the one thing he has never been able to give me.

After standing me up that night, Blue Eyes decided he wanted us to be exclusive. He didn’t want to date other girls. We still hadn’t had intercourse, or done a few other things that it turns out he is quite adept at, but we were well on our way to a relationship. I was happy, Blue Eyes was happy. It was the beginning of something.

6 thoughts on “Just another love story. Part two: a summer apart

  1. This is so typical of a sex addict.The pattern is so clearly visible.They save up women the way normal people save up money.In case you run short you dip into your savings.Likewise these addicts always keep a harem they can dip into.One more thing, the moment they start getting serious about someone, they go back to the exes, fearing they may lose them when they go exclusive with someone else.They are very insecure without women and always want an assured supply.A wife of a sex addict has written somewhere that a sex addict always has 3 different stages of their supply:
    1)The wife
    2)A long term girl friend
    3) a lot many other women in various stages of grooming

    I see this common thread in every single story I read .

    Like

    • Yes, it is all so clear once they are exposed. Prior to that they are master manipulators and pathological liars.

      This wife of a sex addict hopes that those three stages (and I agree with them) are in the past as he fights for his life in recovery.

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  2. How did it make you feel to hear “the truth” about that night with the ex. Hopefully it made you feel like you weren’t going crazy or “imagining things” and that your gut instinct was right. Still must have hurt like hell 😦 SWxo

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    • You know, SW, to be really really honest, it was all part of the infidelity package. The lies were so much harder to deal with than the sex. I will say, however, that it was very easy to get past all this stuff that was way in the past. It was part of a pattern, a pathology that I knew nothing about for 30 years. I never ruminate on the old girlfriend, or the first two short term affair partners. The one that gets all my attention is the stalker whore. It was such a long “relationship” and he had her believing he was in love with her. That hurts like hell. I figured there had been something that night between him and his ex girlfriend and he was just too scared or immature to divulge all those years ago. I really thought over the years that he would mature. There is no maturing from addiction. 😦

      Liked by 1 person

    • I know, it sucks. Trust is a bitch sometimes. She did show up later in our lives in that she interviewed with BE’s Dad for a position at his law firm. We never saw her, but his Dad told him so. Now she works for a company that my husband frequents that is in a different city. To be honest, he probably looked her up at some point years ago and saw that she was married or he already had AP #1 on the line or something. Who knows why he pursued some women and not others. To be honest, she stalked me briefly all those years ago but I do not even remotely remember what she looks like. I never gave her a thought…

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