For context, this blog post will make far more sense if you read the previous one.
In the seven months X and I didn't speak, things went beyond well for me. I came into my own during junior year of college, and I liked the person staring back at me in the mirror. I had proven myself academically. I had made friendships that I knew would last far past college. I dated good guys whom just two years prior I would have considered far out of my league, and I finally saw beauty in both my appearance and personality. As an adult, I would say the latter matters more, but as a 20 year old, I know I cared more about my appearance. The insecurities that threatened to drown me at 18 were replaced by small puddles. At that point, I had been in college for enough time to start developing my own opinions. I was content.
Like just about every horror movie monster, X showed up again in my life when things were going well. After seven sleepy months of sustained silence, he reached out to check if I was okay following the death of a character I liked on a television show. It seemed innocuous at the time, but I made a mistake. I was very clear about my desire to have him out of my life that day at the ice cream parlor. He should have respected that boundary, but I should have enforced it.
It's hard to cut someone out of your life entirely at any age, but it's more challenging in the wake of social media. I let him back in for a myriad of reasons that all seem very dumb to me now. I had changed somewhat since I started college, so I thought it was possible he had also changed. I can be petty and stubborn, so there was a part of me that wanted him to regret using me when he could have dated me. To an extent, I missed the concept of him during our months of silence. I think it's fairly common to like/love the idea of a person but not the actual person. I don't know why he came back. but whatever the reason was for his return has long ceased to matter to me. Primarily, I thought I could be his friend but keep enough distance between us to keep things from getting messy.
For quite awhile, I successfully kept him at an arm's length. I could forgive what had been our past, but I couldn't entirely forget it. I wasn't particularly interested in getting burned by the same guy for the third time in two years. Also, I liked the shiny version of myself that took me 20 years to earn. I liked my newfound confidence. I liked knowing that I would be noticed in both academic and social settings. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't enjoy the attention. I did. I'm the youngest sibling. By birthright, I enjoy the spotlight. When he first made a reappearance in my life, I worried that his Eeyore type of energy would tarnish the brighter version of me that had developed in those months.
Unfortunately, I once again unintentionally put X in my blind spot as time passed. I got distracted as I navigated a somewhat serious relationship for a decent amount of time my senior year in college, the pressures of grad school, and finally, the weight of being a first year teacher. During my senior year of college, my then boyfriend and I briefly broke up in the fall. X offered to drive me to the university where most of my friends from high school went for the weekend. It seemed like a nice gesture. Then, he put me in the backseat with the same girl whom he thought about breaking the couch in with just two summers earlier. Even now, I don't know which one of us he was using and which one of us he was trying to provoke. It doesn't matter. I deserved better. She deserved better. I do know that the car ride cemented my concept of "hell is other people" as I found myself stuck in a confined space with a guy I had made out with, another girl the same guy made out with, and his roommate who had terrible and unsolicited political views. Even at the time, I found the situation mildly manipulative, but the three of them were far closer than I was to anyone in that car, so I didn't ask, "So who here in the car has made out with X? Anyone else find it weird?" I don't know how much someone would have to pay me to get into a car for three hours with two ex relationships/situationships simultaneously, but I do know that I wouldn't willingly set the experience up for myself or for any of my exes.
I missed many red flags during that time period.
I failed to notice how many mean things he said behind his friends' backs. A stop sign sized red flag.
I failed to notice that he said crude things about my backseat buddy and his on and off again girlfriend. A red light sized red flag.
I failed to notice he would make their many breakups her fault because he deemed her subpar in areas. The Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri, sized red flag.
I failed to notice that he openly admitted to running back to her for fear of not being able to do better. A Mt. Everest sized red flag.
I failed to notice that he treated her poorly constantly. A meteor sized red flag.
At best, X was a terrible boyfriend to her. At worst, he cheated on her emotionally and physically for years. Far before the year of absolute bloodshed, which will be its own separate blog entry, he had picked up the habit of holding my hand and flirting with me when I was single but he wasn't. There are many ways to cheat on someone that go beyond sex, and he crossed the line for years. I'm not naive enough to think that I'm the only person he crossed that line with in those years. Beyond regretting my decision to let him back in my life, I regret that I never took his girlfriend's side. To this day, I feel bad about the one time in my life where I failed another woman. It's an unusual mistake for me.
I should have seen at least one of the red flags that I sped past. Maybe I just didn't want to see them. As an adult, I keep wondering why I put up with any of his behavior because I have a shockingly low tolerance for other people's crap. Realistically speaking, the first person you have genuine feelings for gets cut a lot more slack than those who follow. He wasn't the smartest guy I dated. He wasn't the funniest guy I dated. He wasn't the best-looking guy I dated. He definitely wasn't the kindest guy I dated. He was, however, the first guy I had sincere feelings for, and of the many things I blame myself for, I don't blame myself for being human and making a very human mistake. I kind of enjoy my humanity.
Sadly, I'm not even at the worst point in our story. Shakespeare doesn't have the market cornered on young people who make idiotic decisions.
As for the photo at the top of the page, I honestly don't know how old I am in that picture. I know it was taken during college. I know it was taken in line for The Raging Rapids at Kennywood because everyone in the photo is considerably more drenched in the following photos. I definitely know I was happy and with friends. A running theme here seems to be that I should have spent more time with actual friends and my family. I'm never going to post a picture of X with me, but I don't look nearly as happy and silly in the photos I have with him as I do in photos with everyone else in my life. That fact alone is a planet sized red flag.
To be continued....