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amulTHO and I have been trying to avoid using (f)AD as a ping-pong ball, and so in his effort to interact with me directly, he wrote me a letter which he just handed to me.
I deal with my initial reactions under the cut, so as not to abuse him directly.
Before I begin, though, I should mention that these last two weeks have been almost blissfully calm, barring an occasional emotional outburst, usually from me. Still, things are a lot more comfortable than they have been.
This all seemed to have started because of a conversation (f)AD and I had on the drive back from Pittsburgh. She was trying to defend THO from some of my opinions when I interrupted her. I believe the phrase you're looking for is, "He's a nice guy, once you get to know him."
I have a lot of concerns about this guy and his suitability as a partner for the woman I once (and possibly still) loved so intensely. This letter of his does nothing to ease any of them.
First, and most offensive, is his continued presumption that he has any idea of what I'm going through, given that (f)AD is the only serious relationship he's ever had. I try very hard to bite down on this, acknowledge that his youth prevents him from having the experience necessary to respond to me appropriately, but the simple fact of the matter is that he stole my girlfriend, and therefore the first thing I ever knew about him is that he is selfish, and wantonly destructive of other people's lives in pursuit of his own desires.
The few conversations which I've managed to stomache with (f)AD about him do little to relieve this opinion of mine. He lost the first job he had in Athens, after the pregnancy, because he refused to wear deodorant at work. To my mind, this only emphasizes his selfish devotion to ideals in the face of financial disaster. They had nothing, no money, no home, were facing a giant pile of medical bills on the horizon, and it didn't occur to him that this was not a time to defy workplace morality.
He didn't learn this lesson, either. He arrived in Chicago three weeks ago with no money, no plan, and distraught that he could not live with his girlfriend. Yet, when the owner of a vegan restaurant was kind enough to give him a job, starting the next day (even bought (f)AD and him a meal after the interview), he quit after barely four hours because, he claims, the owner was sexist. "I have this sure-bet opportunity, anyway" was his argument. Yet he took another two weeks to actually track down that job. Perhaps it's unfair of me to judge him harshly on this score, given my current financial dependence on my parents, but if my girlfriend was living with her ex-boyfriend, there's nothing I wouldn't subject myself to in the name of becoming financially stable enough to escape that position.
He is selfish, and what's more he is deceitful, in a grand and self-righteous manner. He loudly proclaims attitudes which he believes in but has no experience practicing. He professes that he will have no problem maintaining ideals which have never been put to the test. Now, I've no problem with wanting to be more than you already are, it would be hypocritical of me to do so as I spend so much time trying the same thing. It is not the morality itself I have problems with (although I am at odds with it), it is the arrogant manner by which he proclaims and pretends that he has already achieved these morals. That is deceit, and it means that I can trust nothing he says, for I will never be sure if the things he says are what he believes, or merely what he wants to believe.
In this letter, he states that he takes offense to the idea that I judge him only by the actions I've seen firsthand, as those were particularly trying times. By contrast, I believe that there is no better time to judge a man.
In this next section of his letter, he completely misses my point. That is going to be a long and delicate conversation. It's a loathsome task, too, because it will require explaining some of my relationship history to him, and it rubs against my grain to so freely give this usurper any insight into me. But I suppose, for the sake of (f)AD, I must do so.
He implores me to let down my barriers and attempt to develop a friendship with him. That's nearly as offensive to me as his presumption that he can understand what I'm going through. What possible desire could I have to befriend someone who has hurt me so deeply? I'm willing to work towards cordiality, honesty, and perhaps even grudging respect, but I feel that after our interactions thus far, only the first two are really possible. But friendship?
I allow him into my home when I'm not around, so that he and (f)AD can have somewhere to relax together that doesn't cost money. I suggested he sleep down in the performance space when (f)AD was crying over the fact that he was sleeping on the streets. I've been told repeatedly by many, many people, that they would never be so gracious. So again, perhaps I am blinded by my emotions, but I find this request arrogant, and insulting. Of course it is easy for him to consider friendship with me. I've done nothing to hurt him. He, on the other hand, cut me deeply and profoundly. He and (f)AD both, but she has done much to repair the hurt. When I think of the number of times that (f)AD called me over the winter, crying over their difficulties and his distance, the times she was driven so far as to beg me to take her back (brief moments of bitter anguish, I know, never once did I suspect that she truly wanted that), to be forced by my emotions to care for and give council to her in the best ways to sustain her relationship with the man she left me for....and he wants even more from me.
What a mad creature is this heart of mine, which suffers so gladly for her comfort, she who tossed me aside after demanding so often that I keep her. All my intellect proves utterly insubstantial in the face of my screaming wrath. I want to spit on him, destroy him, force him into ordeals that push his true nature against his high-minded and heavy handed philosophies. But the memory of her slumped shoulders, her tired posture, snuff those dark urges as easily as a hurricane blows out a candle. Truly, I have never been so emotionally driven as I have these last three weeks. It is frightening, to be so utterly lost to the demands of my heart.
I hate him. If it were not for her, I would exult in his every misfortune. He took from me the one piece of my life in Pittsburgh that I, in my madness, still could cherish. He drove me mad when I was already half-crazed. He stole from me, her love, her company, her voice, her laughter, and no matter how I try to think, it still hurts. His very presence causes me violent emotional mood swings, and even his absence is a presence in my home, my sanctuary, which I cannot escape, which drives me to inexplicable tears seemingly without provocation.
I did not sign on to deal with him. I agreed to let her stay with me because he was leaving her, and I could not bear the thought of her alone, friendless, without a home or any support to help her achieve her dreams. I cannot even faintly begin to understand why she still wanted to come to Chicago when she knew that she still had him for support, for emotional nourishment. She seems equally at a loss to explain it, and the dark part of me whispers that she is using me, that she cannot explain why she came because the truth would hurt. My only refuge against such battles between my synapses and heartstrings is the idea that, if she is using me, she regrets it even as she takes from me. In my few respites, I believe that she craves my support and approval almost as much as she needs him.
But even still, I did not agree to comfort him, or support him. Every piece of stability he has right now, he owes to my love for her. It is cold, burnt ash in my mouth to even admit it. He wouldn't even be able to make himself presentable for job interviews, were it not for my willingness to sacrifice on her behalf. These things he asks of me now, in this letter, are simply too much. But for her, I will endure it. For the heart she gave back to me, I will let him trample the same. For the joy she taught me to feel again, for the Life she helped me to believe in, I will endure this.
I deal with my initial reactions under the cut, so as not to abuse him directly.
Before I begin, though, I should mention that these last two weeks have been almost blissfully calm, barring an occasional emotional outburst, usually from me. Still, things are a lot more comfortable than they have been.
This all seemed to have started because of a conversation (f)AD and I had on the drive back from Pittsburgh. She was trying to defend THO from some of my opinions when I interrupted her. I believe the phrase you're looking for is, "He's a nice guy, once you get to know him."
I have a lot of concerns about this guy and his suitability as a partner for the woman I once (and possibly still) loved so intensely. This letter of his does nothing to ease any of them.
First, and most offensive, is his continued presumption that he has any idea of what I'm going through, given that (f)AD is the only serious relationship he's ever had. I try very hard to bite down on this, acknowledge that his youth prevents him from having the experience necessary to respond to me appropriately, but the simple fact of the matter is that he stole my girlfriend, and therefore the first thing I ever knew about him is that he is selfish, and wantonly destructive of other people's lives in pursuit of his own desires.
The few conversations which I've managed to stomache with (f)AD about him do little to relieve this opinion of mine. He lost the first job he had in Athens, after the pregnancy, because he refused to wear deodorant at work. To my mind, this only emphasizes his selfish devotion to ideals in the face of financial disaster. They had nothing, no money, no home, were facing a giant pile of medical bills on the horizon, and it didn't occur to him that this was not a time to defy workplace morality.
He didn't learn this lesson, either. He arrived in Chicago three weeks ago with no money, no plan, and distraught that he could not live with his girlfriend. Yet, when the owner of a vegan restaurant was kind enough to give him a job, starting the next day (even bought (f)AD and him a meal after the interview), he quit after barely four hours because, he claims, the owner was sexist. "I have this sure-bet opportunity, anyway" was his argument. Yet he took another two weeks to actually track down that job. Perhaps it's unfair of me to judge him harshly on this score, given my current financial dependence on my parents, but if my girlfriend was living with her ex-boyfriend, there's nothing I wouldn't subject myself to in the name of becoming financially stable enough to escape that position.
He is selfish, and what's more he is deceitful, in a grand and self-righteous manner. He loudly proclaims attitudes which he believes in but has no experience practicing. He professes that he will have no problem maintaining ideals which have never been put to the test. Now, I've no problem with wanting to be more than you already are, it would be hypocritical of me to do so as I spend so much time trying the same thing. It is not the morality itself I have problems with (although I am at odds with it), it is the arrogant manner by which he proclaims and pretends that he has already achieved these morals. That is deceit, and it means that I can trust nothing he says, for I will never be sure if the things he says are what he believes, or merely what he wants to believe.
In this letter, he states that he takes offense to the idea that I judge him only by the actions I've seen firsthand, as those were particularly trying times. By contrast, I believe that there is no better time to judge a man.
In this next section of his letter, he completely misses my point. That is going to be a long and delicate conversation. It's a loathsome task, too, because it will require explaining some of my relationship history to him, and it rubs against my grain to so freely give this usurper any insight into me. But I suppose, for the sake of (f)AD, I must do so.
He implores me to let down my barriers and attempt to develop a friendship with him. That's nearly as offensive to me as his presumption that he can understand what I'm going through. What possible desire could I have to befriend someone who has hurt me so deeply? I'm willing to work towards cordiality, honesty, and perhaps even grudging respect, but I feel that after our interactions thus far, only the first two are really possible. But friendship?
I allow him into my home when I'm not around, so that he and (f)AD can have somewhere to relax together that doesn't cost money. I suggested he sleep down in the performance space when (f)AD was crying over the fact that he was sleeping on the streets. I've been told repeatedly by many, many people, that they would never be so gracious. So again, perhaps I am blinded by my emotions, but I find this request arrogant, and insulting. Of course it is easy for him to consider friendship with me. I've done nothing to hurt him. He, on the other hand, cut me deeply and profoundly. He and (f)AD both, but she has done much to repair the hurt. When I think of the number of times that (f)AD called me over the winter, crying over their difficulties and his distance, the times she was driven so far as to beg me to take her back (brief moments of bitter anguish, I know, never once did I suspect that she truly wanted that), to be forced by my emotions to care for and give council to her in the best ways to sustain her relationship with the man she left me for....and he wants even more from me.
What a mad creature is this heart of mine, which suffers so gladly for her comfort, she who tossed me aside after demanding so often that I keep her. All my intellect proves utterly insubstantial in the face of my screaming wrath. I want to spit on him, destroy him, force him into ordeals that push his true nature against his high-minded and heavy handed philosophies. But the memory of her slumped shoulders, her tired posture, snuff those dark urges as easily as a hurricane blows out a candle. Truly, I have never been so emotionally driven as I have these last three weeks. It is frightening, to be so utterly lost to the demands of my heart.
I hate him. If it were not for her, I would exult in his every misfortune. He took from me the one piece of my life in Pittsburgh that I, in my madness, still could cherish. He drove me mad when I was already half-crazed. He stole from me, her love, her company, her voice, her laughter, and no matter how I try to think, it still hurts. His very presence causes me violent emotional mood swings, and even his absence is a presence in my home, my sanctuary, which I cannot escape, which drives me to inexplicable tears seemingly without provocation.
I did not sign on to deal with him. I agreed to let her stay with me because he was leaving her, and I could not bear the thought of her alone, friendless, without a home or any support to help her achieve her dreams. I cannot even faintly begin to understand why she still wanted to come to Chicago when she knew that she still had him for support, for emotional nourishment. She seems equally at a loss to explain it, and the dark part of me whispers that she is using me, that she cannot explain why she came because the truth would hurt. My only refuge against such battles between my synapses and heartstrings is the idea that, if she is using me, she regrets it even as she takes from me. In my few respites, I believe that she craves my support and approval almost as much as she needs him.
But even still, I did not agree to comfort him, or support him. Every piece of stability he has right now, he owes to my love for her. It is cold, burnt ash in my mouth to even admit it. He wouldn't even be able to make himself presentable for job interviews, were it not for my willingness to sacrifice on her behalf. These things he asks of me now, in this letter, are simply too much. But for her, I will endure it. For the heart she gave back to me, I will let him trample the same. For the joy she taught me to feel again, for the Life she helped me to believe in, I will endure this.
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no subject
Date: 11 Jun 2006 03:07 (UTC)Once I was in a situation where, while very different from your current predicament, I felt many of the same things you're describing. I can go into more detail if you wish, but really, it's irrelevant.
I was still very close to my former...whatever. He had a lot of depression problems/personal issues that I, apparently, was much better at handling than his girlfriend. He'd come to me when he was upset, she'd call and have me talk to him when she wasn't getting anywhere. I'd try to be as fair, honest and understanding as I could. I tried to set up firm boundaries, but their demands kept pushing things. The girlfriend kept trying to assert her dominance. Despite dumping many of the unpleasant parts of the relationship on me, she would demand things, throw tantrums, and intrude into areas she was not supposed to, all in an attempt to make sure I knew my place. I felt like every line I drew for my own comfort was tested over and over again. She'd push him, and he'd push me.
Having been on the other side of the equation as well, I can sort see where she was coming from. She needed to know she was valued. To establish he was with her, not me, and make sure everyone involved remembered that. I established boundaries for my comfort, she saw it as my still trying to claim a piece of him, and fought it.
Was I trying to do that? It's hard to say. We tried very hard to be just friends, and didn't cross any lines of physical appropriateness. Still, it was an emotional infidelity. I was like the pinch hit girlfriend. He and I connected on a level that they didn't. He didn't want to give that up, and I didn't want to give him up. He said he loved me, but it didn't change anything. I hung in there hoping he'd realize his grave mistake until I couldn't do it anymore. I said she was horrible (and she was), but he didn't listen. I slowly began pulling myself away because the situation was killing me. I felt like he was leaving me in little ways over and over. Eventually, I met someone else and began holding my old love at arm's length. I wanted to give the new relationship a chance and knew that wouldn't happen as long as the old love was still in my life. The back and forth, pushing and pulling, was wrecking his relationship and I knew it would wreck mine.
I'm not sure any of this is helpful or applicable to what you're experiencing. I don't know whether I'm trying to commiserate, or offer insight. If some of this helps, take it and leave the rest. And if it doesn't, just consider this an odd moment for me to over share.
no subject
Date: 12 Jun 2006 03:59 (UTC)Overall, it honestly sounds to me like your situation was worse than this one. I mean, assuming everybody has been honest about how honest we're being, most of the problems we've been having are simple miscommunications, which while terribly painful at the time, seem to be quickly rectified.
A lot of this post just comes from the simple fact that it's too emotionally painful for me to even try to talk to THO, so I get stuck inside my head thinking about what he must be like. Well, I say "head," but the truth is that my brain has very little to do with it.