It's a TRAP: Dating the DSM* Manual Way! (Pt. 7)

We're All Crazy Here

I should have known that this was a bad idea, because it didn't feel right. He wanted to be together all the time, but he was completely withdrawn physically. I was so excited about being back in his graces, that I just figured it was OK, it would take time to get back to a place where we could be physically comfortable with each other. Patience, young Jodi.

Turns out he was weird because he was still dating his Ex Girlfriend. I learned this one fateful morning when she showed up to "surprise" him and, using her key to his place, came sneaking into the bedroom. Where I was sleeping. Where we were sleeping (and just sleeping, remember, nothing physical). To make this whole thing even BETTER, he did not wake up, I did. I woke up and stared at her. She yelled, screamed, took off down the stairs, and I told him "WAKE UP! EG is here and you need to care of this!" And you know what? He wouldn't, at first. He finally decided to go talk to her when he heard her throwing shit about.

When he came back upstairs and she was gone, he told me she was crazy! They had broken up! He couldn't believe he didn't get the key back from her! And I bought it. Because I clearly would buy ANYTHING during this time. You defs could have sold me the frackin' London Bridge, I'd have BOUGHT THAT SHIT. I mean, I had seen something recently on her FB about going to the movies in RoPo, on the motorcycle, and I just assumed it meant she had a NEW boyfriend with a motorcycle. Bridge. London. Mine.

And that was that. I got an angry message on FB from her best friend, accusing me of being a whore and whatnot. But that was it. She went, she was gone, we were together, everything was going to be otay!

For reals, it had to be great. He got a job. A GOOD job. And we moved to the South Bay, into an awesome apartment in the same complex where my sister was living! How ideal! How could this not be win? He was being nice, for the most part, if still a bit weird and distant. But not mean, and we weren't tearing it up like crazy people, so I was feeling pretty OK about things. Not good though. I never felt good.

I probably never felt good, because he was still definitely involved with EG. This came to the fore at our housewarming party when I happened to look over his shoulder and see him texting EG with, "I miss you, too, baby." Uh, baby? Excuse me? So I brought this shit up as soon as our guests had left (shouldn't have waited), and his sole response was to get in bed, tell me I was being out of control/crazy/irrational, and tune me out. I could have beaten him in the head with a rock and he would have continued to just pretend I wasn't there. So I left.

I left and went to visit my FWB. I didn't know where else to go. I couldn't go home and admit to my mom what was going on...what if we worked through things?! Then she'd hate him forever! I couldn't risk her opinion of him (which probably was already total shit). So FWB and I walked out to the beach and we sat there, and he held me, listened while I cried, smoothed my hair, and took care of me. I proceeded to spend the next 2 (3?) days curled up in his bed, crying off and on, until I finally got the gumption to go back to my apartment and face the problem. That was a hard thing to do after several days of being with a kind, warm person...plus his mom makes these incredible quilts...and I was pretty fucking cozy. Anyway, I had to go face the music.

Tune in for Part VIII: Face the Music
*=DSM still stands for Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, criteria for classifying mental disorders.

It's a TRAP: Dating the DSM* Manual Way! (Pt. 1)

My first true love, my first real heartbreak, and BOY was it a fucking SHIT SHOW. But if I learned from it, maybe you can too! Or maybe someone out there can avoid making the same huge mistakes that I made. Or maybe someone will just enjoy the schadenfreude that comes along with reading this.
First, a little background to get you in the mood...

SETTING THE SCENE
In high school, I was "chubby" (not really...) and pimply and awkward. And my best friend was the hottest girl in school (still one of the prettiest people I've ever known) AND the valedictorian. Nobody kissed me, nobody asked me on dates, and only ONCE was I ever asked to a dance. And hey, that boy dug the hell out of me, but he was even more shy and reserved than I was, so nothing happened. Hell, we hardly even danced. Like maybe one dance. We came together, and I mostly danced with my girlfriends. SO COOL. I was a mega-prude with NO good examples in my life of what a relationship should look like or feel like.

Then, toward the end of my senior year I started an OK Cupid account. This led to some very unchaste AIMing with a boy my age who lived about 2 hours north of me. Unchaste because he had the cajones to ask me things like, "what underwear are you wearing?" and I had the senorita cajones to answer. But I didn't want to, and it made me uncomfortable. I'd never been kissed! And you're asking about my UNDERWEAR?! Alas, it excited me, and it felt awesome to be LIKED. Especially to be liked in such a non-threatening environment as the internet. I could like him, I could talk sexy talk with him, AND I could continue to be a total innocent prude. It was baller.

At some point, we decided to take the relationship from the intertubes to real life, and boy did my tonsils regret it. He stuck his tongue as far down my throat as possible and, when I whimpered my protestations of "I'm not ready," he simply said "I am" and continued to palpate my uvula with his tongue. Really, obviously, the beginning of a beautiful relationship. No really, we dated for 2.5 years. Right?! That's how low my self-esteem was. But he was my age, and he liked me, and that was enough for me.

Our wretched affair lasted just long enough for him to see me through the death of my dad and dump me, like, a week later. Oh, and he didn't just dump me. He dumped me over the phone, and told me he liked to cross-dress. Uh? What? Who does that? I mean, that's fine and all, but that's a really fucking weird way to break up with someone. OH and then he told me to drive up to see him so we could have it out in person. That just meant me driving up at like 1am, him putting the moves on me, me sleeping with him, and me leaving in the morning feeling disgusting and dejected. Then I got the flu and missed out on our family's Christmas events. So that was pretty awesome.

TUNE IN FOR PART II: MEETING THE DEVIL

*=DSM stands for Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, criteria for classifying mental disorders.