(...continued from May 15th post)
I took another deep drink from my wine; took a deeper breath into my lungs. Let it out slowly. Walking from the kitchen, I heard a rap on the door. I opened it to see Frog Two…with his dog. That’s interesting. And annoying. I figured that he brought her to help diffuse the situation in case things got ugly. Kind of like a shield. Abby loves me, you see, and I think he figured that I wouldn’t go off the deep end if she was there. He said he’d had her at work all day (he often takes her to work with him) with an apologetic look on his face. Whether it was pre-meditated or if it was the lack of any forethought, I decided to forgive it. I can’t blame him for wanting to try and take the edge off of a confrontation both of us dreaded. A bigger issue was at hand.
I told him to come in and release Abby from her lead; she knows her way around and is comfortable in my home. He took the cap he was wearing off as he walked in, speaking to the good manners he had trained himself with and which charmed me from the first. Without looking at him, I asked if he would like a glass of wine. I would have been a cad if I didn’t offer (a small part of me wanted to be a cad). He accepted, so I got another glass from the wall unit and poured the wine. The bottle I had opened was not the French wine he had given to me two weeks before; that would have been ironic and not a little poetic. When he gave it to me – supposedly in exchange for watching Abby for him – I told him that I wanted to share it with him. Go figure. I handed him the glass, still not looking at him, and invited him to have a seat on the sofa.
He sat somewhat toward the center on the left and, wanting some distance, I crammed myself against the right arm, removed my feet from the mules I was wearing and folded my legs under me. Turning my body toward his, I took my time to get comfortable; I figured I should be as relaxed as possible for this unpleasantness. Looking at my lap, I took a deep breath and slowly raised my eyes to meet his. Putting my hand on my chest to remind myself that I must say what I feel – directly from my heart – I spoke.
I heard my own voice as halting and nervous at first, when I told him of the feelings of anger, hurt and betrayal I felt (still fresh, though more than a week had passed). Then, I watched his eyes – steady in their gaze moments before – get large, then soften and look away. He appeared quite shocked at the realization of the effect of his actions. Emboldened, my voice steadied. I spoke in even tones, never raising my voice. It wasn’t necessary; I saw in his face and eyes the shadow of shame and hurt.
It was not my intention to talk him out of his decision to pair up with someone else – that is a waste of time, and would make me look like a desperate fool. His choice is his choice, and he’s the one who has to live with it. If he cannot see what a catch I am, that's his problem, not mine.
Taking a deep breath of his own, he looked at me and said (paraphrased):
“I’m so sorry – I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve never been in this kind of situation before, so I really had no idea how to go about it. I’m horrified that I caused you that much pain. I completely underestimated your feelings and I am so very sorry.”
I explained to him that when dealing with issues of the heart, consideration of others is paramount. To blithely announce to the world about one's status change without consideration for the people he was directly involved with was inconsiderate. Still not raising my voice, the words came across like a shout: "It was horrible. What a horrible, horrible thing to do," I exclaimed. "Unthinking, unfeeling, inconsiderate and absolutely horrible! Not just for me, but for anyone else you had been seeing!
"Did you tell anyone else before you announced it to the world?"
"No, I didn't," to which I groaned, “Dear God!” and looked at him in mild exasperation.
I admitted that I had feelings of him moving away from me for weeks. He had no answer to that – and I didn't really want one. He did not deny it, which is an admission in and of itself. When I met him last at the movies, and I pointed out to him that I had asked him point-blank, “Is there anything you need to tell me?” his answer was, “I didn't want to lose you as a friend.” I nearly blew up. Glaring at him and growling my words (still not raising my voice), I asked, “Did you actually think that I would ignore the fact that you lied to me? What kind of a friend is that? You would have saved me a hell of a lot of pain and anxiety had you just told me the truth, instead of stringing me along!”
He flinched, having been cut to the quick. He explained that he had a female friend, who seemed to be able to make friends of her former lovers, and he wanted to emulate her and do what she did to gain friendships from his own experiences. “I don’t know how she does it,” he admitted. I jumped in with another stab: “Perhaps she did it by being sensitive, considerate – and truthful.” Another flinch.
“I handled this badly,” he said.
“Yes, you did," I said, my eyes boring into him. "Now, we have to figure out if a friendship can be salvaged from this train wreck,” I said quietly.
I told him that I had to work through this anger and that will take time. I didn’t want him contacting me for a while; that I would be the one to contact him. If he had direct questions about anything related to my field of specialty (we had discussed much of that during our dating), that he was free to do so. But, I did not want him to email for any other purpose. “Let me contact you – that will be the best indicator of my willingness to be friends.”
I told him that I wanted his honesty going forward. “Can you promise me that?”
He sat for a moment, thoughtful. “I promise that I will do better,” he replied, which was as truthful as I could ask for.
I had to accept that. I would have said the same thing.
My venom expended, I told him he could leave at any time. Instead, he asked, “Can Abby play with your dogs for a while?” I couldn’t help but smile. The expression on his face was hopeful, childlike in it’s reflection of appeasement. I believe he truly wanted to mend the rift and see if a friendship could develop. It was still light outside, so I relented. Frog Two refilled his wine glass and made his way to the back yard with Abby while I released my own hounds. I refilled my own glass and headed outside. The dogs played while we interacted with each other through them. Amazingly, that worked like a balm. It broke the tension and both of us relaxed after such a grueling confrontation. I felt the first stirrings of healing.
Darkness was prevailing, so we gathered the herd and went back inside. Frog Two leashed Abby and made his way toward the front door. I thanked him for coming despite the unpleasantness of what he was facing. He thanked me for being honest and telling him exactly what I felt. I told him that I would always tell him what I feel. “That is a promise.”
We hugged in a way that was friendly, but held the undercurrent of past emotion. I watched as he and Abby got into his car. I closed the door, sat on the sofa and cried.
Several minutes later, as I was taking the wine glasses to the kitchen, I noticed something on the ottoman.
He left his cap.
