Eventually, he found his own place and I moved home with mom. For some reason, he still kept in touch with me off and on. Enough that I found myself with him at Jennifer Convertibles looking at couches for his Awesome New Bachelor Pad. He seriously said something to me along the lines of, "I want you to help pick, so if we get back together..." Which is a cruel ass thing to say to a sad, lonely, and desperate lady. The truth of the matter was this: he needed furniture, I had money and was desperate enough to spend it on him. So yea, that's the story of how I bought him furniture. Like, seriously, a leather couch, a loveseat and two chairs. It hurts my currently totally poor and frugal soul so much to admit all this.
We spent time together on and off. He would sometimes say things to the effect of our future, other times he'd tell me that I was insane and that he was never getting back together with me. If I withdrew at all, he would start sending me instant messages or e-mails about how he missed me. As soon as I came back, he'd revert to his usual charming soulless personality. I took a trip to London for a week, by myself (I'd never left the country, let alone on my own), and I spent the entire time crying and mourning our relationship. When I got back, I withdrew from CAL for a semester. At that point, it was too late to get any of my money back. But I had fallen so far behind and I was so overwhelmed that it just wasn't worth staying. I tried my best to put him out of my mind.
Finally, I moved back to Berkeley to finish my degree in the summer of 2007. I was still a mess over the relationship, but I started to have fun again. I was spending a ton of time with my best friend, Jenn, and I was having sex with a guy I'd had a crush on since high school. Fun, casual sex -- but he really took care of me. I spent a lot of time with this duder, and while it was just as friends-with-benefits, he always made sure I felt safe, loved, and beautiful. I'm thankful for that experience to this day. And regretful that I easily threw it away the minute Mr. Kite came back into my life.
By the way, this is from a message Mr. Kite sent me about my FWB: "Why am I so upset? It really has most to do with something I thought was special, and this has happened before. I felt ugly and stupid
when I got close to someone else, so I didn't follow through. I didn't sleep with someone else because it felt disengenuous (sic) and hollow and ugly. I'm supposed to be the one with the history, the one
capable of drowning my real emotions in shallow fucking. The one able to get over things. But this time you were, and I guess now I know how that feels."
Which is only a small fraction of all the angry shit he said to me about the fact that I was trying to move on. The guilt trips were ENDLESS. The "I didn't sleep with..." was a lie by the way, he had slept with the person he references in this. I learned of it later. VERY weird. And this is not about the next person to enter our drama:
Mr. Kite had been dating an ex-girlfriend of his. One I knew only for being fond of physical abuse (she had a fucked up past), three-ways, and drugs. One day, out of the blue, he started to IM me. His messages were super sexually charged. I mentioned going to yoga and my hot instructor, and he started positing about how sexy it would be to see me and my instructor in tiny yoga shorts going at it. He was not discrete AT ALL. He was like HEY WHAT'S UP SEX SEX SEX. And I was like, uh, aren't you dating someone? And he was like: not really. WRONG. SO WRONG. I went to visit him, we got really close to totally getting physical and he was like, no no no, this is wrong. He totally denied me. But after that, he kept messaging me, he kept inviting me over, he kept on with the inappropriate messages. He stopped by on more than one occasion. And finally, one day, he told me that he had actually broken up with Ex Girlfriend and that I should come by. And that's how I got sucked right back down into the fucking rabbit hole...
*=DSM still stands for Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, criteria for classifying mental disorders.
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