A Trail of Bruises

Friday, June 6 2008

Every once in a while, a dam bursts in my mind and things come spilling out into the present. This time, the dam had something to do with the way I had things ordered in my mind about my college years. Over the years, I've simplified the narrative to take out the messy and embarrassing stuff. What remained was a simple story about how I got into my first relationship in three years, lost it, met Melissa and fell in love with her. The story finished in the next year when my ex and I learned some important things and parted as friends. Melissa and I went on to get married and continue in marital bliss to this day.

That's a nice story as far as I'm concerned. It also hits most of the salient points and it seems to account for the ups and downs I remember. For better or worse, that's not the whole story. I believe I've mentioned everything I'm going to write today here and there. None of it remains secret more than a decade later. I just haven't felt up to facing it all at once.

Therefore, I shall play the "mighty" WMMR and trust them to keep me on an even keel. The story began shortly after one of the worst summers in my whole life. Things had been good for most of my senior year in high school. In that last glorious month of May 1992, everything was reinforced with a glistening energy difficult to describe. I knew what I was doing and it was all coming together. I even met a nice girl with whom I went out on a few pleasant dates.

That summer was a terrible shock. It seemed as if all my connections and lessons learned from the past four years were unplugged or unlearned as would be appropriate. Maybe something less dramatic happened and I just dropped off that heightened state of awareness I remember from my senior year. Maybe a few friends allowed more distance to come between us. Maybe I never had the closeness I thought I had with that nice girl in May of 1992. It doesn't matter because that summer ended a long time ago and I have no lasting scars.

Most of that was left behind in that glorious Fall when college began. In some ways, that first year was ideal. Every once in a while, I look back and wish Melissa and I could live in that tiny apartment together. We would have no bills to pay and classes would be no more than an occasional diversion. It is a fantasy, after all. We would have all our meals prepared for us at the Dining Hall of our choosing in those all you can eat buffets. We both enjoyed school food and that's not just something we've added in nostalgia.

That first semester was good in many ways. Two of the big three were only a phone call away although I never chose to call the short one. I feared that it too slippery a slope between calling her and stalking her. In any case, she'd be graduating and I didn't want to go through that sad moment again. I wrote the nice girl who went to college in Pennsylvania constantly but most of those letters went unsent. Even so, I felt as if I were being neglected since I decided to hang on to her and she didn't keep up her end.

Yes, I know there is a problem with that idea. I've worked that out long since but I wanted to be honest about my state of mind. Since I had a total of one serious relationship in high school, I placed an enormous amount of importance on what was an awfully nice friendship. That state of mind got me into "trouble" more than once. One example was mortifying at the time but is pretty funny now.

I was hanging out with a bunch of guys up on the floor where I officially lived. We were talking about girls and I was asked if I was dating anyone. I said yes because I had been out on dates with her. When she stopped by to visit with me, one of those guys insisted I introduce him to my girlfriend formally. Before I could make the distinction, she stomped all over the idea. To this day, I doubt she knows the truth even if she cares enough to remember.

My freshman year was centered on the idea that everything I was doing was in preparation for something big down the road with that gal. I met a few nice girls that first semester but none of them lived up to my rather low standards of the time. All I wanted was someone I could say nice things to and about. Maybe we'd share a few meals and speak on the phone. I've since heard of stalkers and how their standard approach was awfully close to mine. What can I say? I was trying to appear safe and harmless because that's who I wanted to be. I didn't know that stalkers and worse used the same approach for a disguise.

Things started to get complicated a little later on. I met a woman whom I suspected was crazy from the start. I just didn't realize how destructive her form of insanity could be for those around her. I thought she was my kind of crazy and maybe she was. She was there to absorb all that energy I wanted to use to pursue that nice gal from high school. I'm going to skip ahead here and follow this thread to its end.

The fact is that my standard line about having two relationships in college fails to stand up to scrutiny. When I watched "High Fidelity" for the first time, I felt jealousy toward the protagonist because he ended up in a long term relationship by default with another "loser-ish" type. This crazy woman and I ended up as surrogate significant others with each other. I'm sure she'd scream at me for counting us but I'm using a broad standard here that doesn't require ever being within 100 miles of the other person much less having a physical relationship.

We spent a lot of time together doing things couples do. We went out together and stayed in together. Most people thought we were a couple and I suspect that they were right. The nice thing about this relationship was how little I had to do to fulfill my role. I had to be willing to silently exempt myself from our mutual bitching about the opposite sex. When she called, I had to be willing to make myself available. I also had to put up with her jealous behavior whenever I was with someone else. She'd probably say the same about me.

We thought about the world in similar ways and that's what I mean by "my kind of crazy." When we weren't fooling ourselves into that strange surrogate relationship, we would bounce ideas off each other. I wonder how much of the time we were sabotaging each other because we were comfortable where we were.

Once Melissa came into the picture, the jealous behavior became more obvious. It stopped being cute and I realized we had no idea how to cope with not being surrogates for each other. She lived in denial of this but I suspect she understood it in that place we hide our least pleasant realizations. Once I found the "right one," she picked someone almost right away. After that, she picked someone else and married him. It's not my fault since I'm pretty sure she acted like this before I met her and she's had an additional failed marriage since.

I can't deny that my surrogate girlfriend was significant for a long time. She was someone who helped shape my college experience from beginning to near the end. Even so, she was far from the only important one. Going in sequential order, the next semi-relationship I had was with a woman who lived several states away. I had met her when I sent a random chat request to her friend and she sat in on it.

For the better part of two months, I spent at least a little time each day chatting with her. Since I hadn't yet considered an online relationship to be possible, there was no pressure to be anything more than who we were. We were two people who talked about everything. I told her things I hadn't told anyone including people like Dave whom I trust completely. As I would learn later, the online world lends itself toward a feeling of intimacy.

This special friendship lasted for an eternity in the fast paced emotional life known as college. The half-life for feelings was short in a world where housing arrangements changed at least once a year. People graduated and failed to live up to promises made to keep in touch. It didn't matter how important the person was to you at the time. You had to move on or be left behind by life.

I don't remember what exactly broke our bond. On one hand, I remember that she told me that some guy she liked who felt for her than she felt. She found herself waiting in line for the local male slut who never cared enough for her to give her the time of day and treated this other guy the same way. That had been the story of my life up to that point and I was unable to avoid making this point.

Then again, I remember actually talking with her on the phone and exchanging actual paper mail with her. She included a picture of her in her softball uniform and I remember being secretly unimpressed. In the real world, we would have failed to give each other a chance and this blew my mind. The question of whether or not we were anything to each other in real life grew very large in my mind.

Maybe it was the real life prospect who popped into my life. She was a fellow Dallas Cowboys fan who happened to be rooming with a casual friend of mine. That casual friend liked the Washington Capitals hockey team and this was cause for much needling back and forth. The main flaw of this brief interlude was the fact that she was crazy. I know I've written about other crazy people but this girl was diagnosed and medicated.

Even so, I was unprepared for the experience. She was manic depressive and schizophrenic according to what she told me of her diagnosis. When she failed to take one set of pills, she got advice from a teddy bear. That turned out to be mostly harmless. The manic depressive part was far more challenging. I thought she'd understand how depression affected my life and we would help each other.

If my (former) shrink were to read this, she'd probably chuckle just a bit. I had a tendency to believe that I could save anyone. After all, I had a certain strength of will and intellect. The real issue is likely that I believed depression was simply a case of seeing the world more clearly than others did. As long as I believed that, it was unlikely that I could help anyone.

The real problem came when she showed me her manic side. Part of me identified with the intensity of emotions yet she tore away my feeling of being needed when she felt invincible. She explained how she could manipulate her meds to get a sudden high when she "needed" one. This disgusted me on a level I might never have articulated. I might have been disgusted with myself, too. I felt so alive when she was with me on the ledge so to speak. No, that's not funny and it never was.

It is a little funnier to remember how chickenshit I was. Late one evening, we were snuggling and she mentioned bed. In the moment, I realized that the only thing between us and being in bed was moving a few covers. I remember thinking that I could stick around very easily. For better or worse, she failed to encourage me and the moment passed. We had other moments anyway.

She pulled a stunt and it is shaming how easily she fooled me. At the end of the Fall Semester or the very beginning of Winter Session, we were done. I had enough of the push/pull nature of the relationship after she staged a fight. Not much later, I found myself in a chat session with her roommate. As I said, we were casual friends and had been for a while. The psycho managed to logon as her roommate and told me all about how sorry she was. I wasn't supposed to "give up" the Capitals fan but I was assured I'd be welcomed back no matter what was said in the fight. Sadly enough, she had been around when I used the inside joke that I used to confirm the roommates' identity. This wasn't what ended us. She admitted to what she had done and I found it cute until she staged another fight. We were done.

At this point, there was another force pulling me away from the chatting scene. My two roommates were playing this game called Kobra. It was a MUD like Ancient Anguish, where I spend far more online time, these days. I made some very close friends there including someone who replaced the softball player in my heart.

No, I'm not talking about that ex I am absolving of a fair amount of blame here. This was someone who was either far more important or a momentary blip depending on my mood. We had fun playing the game but we spent far more time just chatting in a room together. She was very popular and I had heard quite a bit of her so I was prepared to dislike her before I met her on Kobra. Instead, she became someone I wish I had never lost.

This gal listened to me moan on about the girl from high school without batting an eyelash. She went on about as much about an unsuccessful relationship with a mutual friend. I remember that she sent me 80 emails in a single month and that was during the "official" month I was with my ex. I don't remember having time to reply to many of those 80 but I loved it.

Once again, I do not know exactly where I lost her. (Oh, shit! I left her in the car with the windows shut! - little homage to the movie, "Before Sunset") I know how I lost her in the end. She graduated early from her school and moved to Philly. Despite many hints that we should get together in a large group of mutual friends, this never happened. I was too busy feeling hurt from the big breakup and I lacked transportation.

When I returned to school (before that last close friend with possibilities graduated), I fell into a state of rebound. It was stupid of me to get caught because the plan was to take the entire year and work a little at time. Instead, I got drunk and confessed to it in humiliating circumstances in September. That led to rebounding from my rebound and the double rebound was bad. It could have been disastrous if not for the jealous behavior of the crazy gal.

I found myself involved with someone who became the last person to ever shock me. In one moment, I was just playing Kobra. I was spilling my heart out to someone I knew was dangerous in the next. She returned the favor telling me that she and another woman I got to know better later were traveling to see a guy she didn't like anymore. Why was she going? She said she owed him and I didn't learn what she meant until much later.

This was during the longest break in my surrogate relationship that I had until it was over. I had no one in my corner to help me defend myself. Therefore, I spent every night from late September to late November on the phone or on Kobra with her. She was in bad shape and had been for far too long. I had no chance to help but I dove in head first without checking how deep the water was.

I don't know how long it took me but I told her that I loved her. In the moment, I meant it and I was right that I was addicted to the struggle. What I do remember is that she sent me a birthday card (the first ever from a non-relative) that said she loved me too. The struggle became bliss for a while as our various personal demons got put on hold for about a week.

Her demons came back first. I learned from a rival that she had denied ever loving me less than a week after admitting it to him. (There were three or four of us who "fought" over her yet we shared information. We believed the stakes could become life and death at any moment. Therefore, it was more important for someone to be there for her or so we thought.) Even after she informed me that she decided that she didn't love me anymore, she continued to plan a romantic weekend for us. She waited until after that weekend to deny ever claiming to love me. Like a gentleman, I destroyed the incriminating email within a week.

So, the planning for that weekend started small and grew to become a Thursday night through Sunday afternoon "affair." We met on Armistice Day, known to those who don't specialize in 20th Century military history as Veteran's Day. There's no importance to that factoid except that I would have forgotten the date by now otherwise. She arrived and became the second out of state visitor to get lost in Newark thanks to my directions.

There's a good story behind her getting lost or rather getting unlost. She rode down Main Street and called out to a random person asking where I lived. She asked by name and this still unidentified random person gave her exact directions to my room. That's just one case of "Small World Syndrome" among many. It's been too long since my last good case of it. I miss a lot of people.

Very shortly before this romantic weekend, this gal informed me that she had sex with someone she had just met. Don't worry. Even I knew that I was being a pushover but I had faith in my ability to be effective face to face. Unfortunately, I was dealing with someone who knew what she was doing. I had lessons left to learn and my teacher was every bit as ruthless as I could be.

The trick was getting me to lower my guard. These days, I'm pretty much a mark waiting for a good con to fleece me good. (Of course I'm not that bad but there are people who have very strong opinions about it.) In any case, I had been hurt too many times not to have my guard up. The gap (since filled) in my defenses involved someone getting me to feel protective of them. If I thought I could protect myself too easily, my guard relaxed.

That's exactly what this gal did. She gave me about two nights and one day of not attacking my virtue. By that time, I was bored mostly due to the fact that I was a healthy, young and heterosexual 20 year old. As I reached my weakest, she struck and I was only a little ready to fight for my innocence. While I had seriously mixed feelings about this at the time, my surrogate used her ability to sabotage my life from half a campus away.

More honestly, the surrogate had contacted me early that Thursday to end our long separation. I had my sounding board back so I bounced my fears of the situation off her. We agreed that this gal was going to be a predatory threat. I planned to use the surrogate to save me in case things went too far. By the time I stopped caring so much about my virtue, the surrogate intervened.

She claimed to have gotten in the way just in time but there was no way for her to have known this. She was carrying on in her usual jealous way. When I hadn't been a good boy and invited her to get in my way, she assumed things were going well. They were going well. Looking back, I realize that things could have gone very badly had we spent that entire evening alone.

I'm not a complete fool. She logged on to Kobra while distracting me and told my rivals that I wasn't all that. It was all the warning that I needed to stay careful. The issue in the moment was that I was changing. I had been a complete "hands-off" sort of person. I was all about not appearing threatening and so I was careful even about being too forward about things like holding hands. Amusingly enough, my mother learned of her because I took her to meet my sister who was ice skating. I was such a hands-off type that hand holding got me teased pleasantly on Thanksgiving Day. I was learning that it could be fun to be more daring but not a whole lot more daring.

Seriously, I had this mindset where all sex seemed more like rape and physical affection was somewhere on the way there. During that weekend, I learned that such affection was nothing to be shamed about. If the girl wants to say no, she will. Obviously, there are lots of other ways affection can be inappropriate but I was starting from completely Puritanical roots.

The real fall of this relationship happened about a week later. I was going on about how little pressure I felt around her and so I felt it was okay to fool around a little. She got angry and insisted that we hadn't had sex. I never claimed that so she either heard me wrong or was trying to pick a fight. After that, she let me know that a mutual friend was going to spend a week with her and she was expecting some sort of sexual marathon. (We're not talking exact words here. I'm making what I remember of a long conversation from almost 15 years ago into a short story.)

She finished this somewhat stunning revelation with an invitation. She wanted to know when she could come visit me again. She said she had a good time with me and I believed her. This was further than I could go especially when she repeated the offer after their weekend. I spoke to the mutual friend and he had plans to marry her. I warned him in what little ways I could without violating confidences. For instances, I've written a lot here but I didn't write what her demons were.

I was back on the floor again. Somehow, that weekend had meant nothing and had no effect on her feelings for me. Once again, I found myself chasing a nice girl to feel like less of a loser. She had a boyfriend to whom she was engaged to marry but she started a "non-relationship" with me. It was what I called it in the time. On Kobra, we appeared like a brand new couple in love. We sent nice emails back and forth. At one time, my ex and this nice girl ganged up on that girl I never officially dated when she decided to mock me publicly on Kobra.

It was the start of something very nice. We played together and she delivered the verbal (or rather text) smackdowns to any woman who seemed a "threat." We didn't talk a whole lot about the outside world very often. I told my friends in the Art House on Ray Street about her and they were glad I was no longer with the dramatic one. I became an established member of their crowd and met Melissa on Kobra. It was like shifting to a new orbit.

Sometimes, I get angry with myself for not getting into enough trouble in my young years. I read journal entries of others who seem to have decades of stories like those. How can I compete with people who have led such interesting lives? The answer is simple. I tend to leave out a few bumps on the road because people might get embarrassed for my sides of the various stories.

I still get angry about that Veterans' Day girl when I wonder how she is. The fact is that I'm pretty sure I could find out if I wanted. I don't want to know. I'd rather believe that everything turned out for the best. In one way, it's important that I suffered through her before meeting Melissa. Veterans' Day girl told Melissa to spend some time with me because she'd like me. She also vouched that Melissa would be safe around me. I suppose it's not too much to wish her well.

When I sat down to write this entry, I had little more than the intention to explain a few of my infamous scars. Now that I see how many there are, I find myself safely in the future once again glad that those days are over. One thing I'd like to add is that these experiences remind me of how much of a "committer" I've been. (That's a term stolen blatantly from the Anti-Diva who took down her journal or else I might have given her credit.)

Every time I take on a task, I find myself penciling it in right on through infinity. Even though I'm sure that softball player is happy somewhere and never thinks of me, I feel like I should be ashamed for losing contact. My life is awfully full since my illness is so drastic but I feel as if I am less because I failed to juggle the friendship with the softball player through the years. I know that I did not have the time to do so even when I had the energy. I'm sure she'd forgive me if she remembered me. Yes, I do remember her name but you know I won't give it up.

I do remember the last time I ran into the engaged gal with whom I had such a pleasant non-relationship. She logged on to Kobra and sent me a tell. After answering a few simple questions to be sure who she was, we had a nice little chat. She was happy and healthy and in a great relationship. I was all of those things as well. Seeing her put the capstone on that story so that I could move on.

Another "Before Sunset" reference is appropriate here. Like Celine, I don't just get over people and things like most people do. I'm glad that I made it through my wounds to meet Melissa. From there, things got a lot easier. Things started off a little rocky between us but we were determined to hold on unlike Celine and Jesse.

Shortly after finishing what I wrote above, I had one of those moments when I felt like I was bleeding from all those scars. It is difficult to describe how I can think back to things that ended unpleasantly and dwell on them. The closest I can come involves an infection I believe I'm fighting off at last. There is a sore spot on my neck that swells and hurts particularly when touched. I had to cover it recently because the urge to check it was so strong.

I knew it would hurt to touch it but I did anyway. It seemed to bother me more each time yet that wasn't enough. Luckily, I experimented with a warm compress and it helped a little. It helped to soothe it a little but it was a physical barrier to my hands. That was the most useful part of it.

Other things get under my skin that are much older than the time frame I chose above. I get thoroughly pissed off at myself about it. I won most of these battles! The ones I lost were indecisive at worst. I suppose there's an urge to perfect my own personal history. The problem is that there have been losses I cannot spin or reframe away.

I've always believed that Small World Syndrome would give me chance after chance to fix whatever imperfect thing I did. Unfortunately, the world isn't small even with the 'net. It never struck me that people I knew would be covering their tracks intentionally but that was the case with the old friend I found. She poked her head up from cover to let me know she was well and dropped back into invisibility.

How can I function in a world where I won't just run into people randomly? I suppose it would get better when I get better enough to be out there more. Unfortunately, it gets more and more difficult to use when and not if. Some days, "if" seems overly optimistic. I guess I show my silly optimistic side most when I feel that I have to remind people that so much of my life is wrapped up in just surviving with Chiari.

It was just a few minutes ago when I figured out what made me feel so nostalgic. One month ago, I had to use all of my creativity and more than a little bullshit to survive a financial crisis. We would have been out of it this month even if we hadn't gotten our unexpected tax return. Since it was a matter of not doing things, it was barely hampered by the Chiari symptoms.