My Ex. Part One

Introduction: Just recently I had a conversation about an ex-boyfriend, my last one before I started dating the man who would become my husband. I learned where his life has led him and his family. This has had me reliving a lot of memories, and so here I am, just talking to myself, to get this story off my chest so I can learn from it, appreciate some of my history, and move on.

I think I’m finally getting some closure. I didn’t know that I needed it till now.

Before my dh, there was only one other boyfriend of somewhat serious contention. There were others, but boy-friends were all they were. C was the first person that I thought about being with in the future. But that was part of the naivety of young love.

This boyfriend, C, and I were in high school together. He, his brother, and his parents moved to my little hometown from France. They were both tall and dark and good looking each in their own way. They were quiet but they learned fast, made friends, were the subjects of many high school crushes, and they became a part of our community.

C and I started dating near the end of our graduating year. His accent and his voice whispering in my ear would make me melt. His dark eyes were just beautiful. His arms around me made me feel so safe.

Around this time, my home life was falling apart. My parents were separated, and I was starting to learn of the infidelity in their marriage that had been carrying on for a long time. I was lost, scared and angry. So angry. My closest friends weren’t close enough for me to share it all with – I didn’t want to believe they could help me because they came from families who loved each other and whose parents would always be together. That’s what I thought then. Several years later, both of those sets of parents had split too.

It was at a party, one of the very few in high school that I really let my guard down. I got drunk – way too drunk. Somewhere in the mist of vodka and orange juice, C and I started talking, and he told me he had liked me for a long time. He was a shy guy, not a lot of confidence I can see now, and I was the same in that regard. The alcohol took care of that stumbling block. We clicked and started dating within the week.

There were so many ways that we were alike and yet so different too. But at the time he was what I needed. I was the center of his attention; no matter what crap was going on at home, he was there for me. I became reliant on him in ways I didn’t realize. Through the stress of final exams, the constant questioning of well meaning people about how my family was, and where was I going to go to University, he was my calming rock. The more time I spent with him, the less I had to be in the fog at home.

Somewhere in that time I decided I wasn’t going to University the following fall. The decision had nothing to do with him; I knew that, though I don’t think my parents did. It was all about my family. I had taken a huge burden on my shoulders, and I was in no way ready to move so far away for schooling that would need my full attention. Once I made that decision I knew it was right for me. Were my parents ever disappointed. They said they understood, but it always felt like things were left unsaid about it.

I chose to move to another city, only 6 hours away from home, where I was comfortable enough to start out on my own. I didn’t know it at the time, but news came out shortly after that C and his family were also moving to the same city. I was thrilled.

I paid room and board to stay with a family I knew from years past. I got a job, and I started looking into courses at the local college, though I wasn’t ready to go there yet. I did some volunteer work, and I just learned to be that much more independent. It was a freeing time.

But it also seemed the more independent I became; the more I continued to rely on C. I didn’t make other friends. I had always been a home-body, so it wasn’t apparent to me at the time how C and I never really went anywhere. We didn’t go to the movies. We didn’t go out for meals. We just hung out together at his place which was fine with me, because where I was paying room and board I didn’t feel that it was appropriate to be having friends over in general. Not that they wouldn’t be welcome, it’s just how it was.

C hadn’t got his drivers licence because back in our little town you could just walk everywhere. I was proud to have a car, rust spots and all, so I didn’t think twice about driving him down to the video store to rent something to watch at his place. When Christmas was coming I asked him what he might like, and I listened, and got him just about everything on that list. I doted on him. I went to work, then I went to his place, then I went home to sleep. That was it.

Things started to crumble.

I was starting to save up some money, I was feeling better having distanced myself from the family chaos, and I was starting to look ahead to the next year. When I declined university the first year, I looked at it as a year or two off, and that I would take that step sooner then later. I would talk to C about this, and I would talk to him about what he was going to do in his future.

The thing is, since graduating and moving from our little town, he’d done nothing more. He didn’t make any plans, other then what movie we might rent next. He wasn’t working, he wasn’t going to get his driver’s license, he wasn’t moving out of his parents place. He wasn’t going anywhere.

The arguments started when I would want to go out… for anything. A walk, a movie, fast food joint, I didn’t really care; I just needed to get out. I wanted to be out with him, but he wouldn’t budge. He was all so very nice and calm about it, I never felt like I was being controlled; I could go out on my own anytime, but that wasn’t the point. I wanted him to come out too, but he wouldn’t. I was wrapped around his finger and I gave in every time.

I don’t even remember what movies we rented. I just remember being in his living room on the couch with him, night after night. Okay, we weren’t always ‘watching’ the movie. But that’s not the story I’m willing to tell.

I’ve never been much of a drinker, but one night we had some liquor, and, well, I had too much. This time while giving me the confidence boost to talk more assertively, it also proved to be the start of our breaking up.

I started in on how we never went anywhere or did anything. What I couldn’t articulate was how unhappy I was becoming. Oh, I still loved being wrapped up in his arms, but it wasn’t enough anymore. My complaining and whining grew with each sip, and I got to the point of becoming hysterical, and this I take full responsibility for. Then, all of a sudden, it was like something out of some movie we had watched. I was losing it, and he slapped me. On the cheek; it was just once.

...to be continued...