The Intricacies Of Love

So my dear brother Dino decided to lift the lid on my love life. And now I'm here to shed some light on it's contents. Where do I begin? For the purposes of this blog I'm only going to touch on the relationships that lasted more than a month, and that were full on romantic endeavors. The little adventures into One-Night-Standville, or Desperately-Seeking-Company-For-A-Week Town will not be discussed here.

So let me start with high school and Robert Kagle. My first, real boyfriend. I was a senior when he was a junior. I don't even really remember how we met other than I think he was a satellite friend of a friend of my best friend Autumn. He hung out and I guess he never left. He was what you'd call a player. Usually dangled half a dozen girls as girlfriends. He was after me and I had no interest.

He came over to my house religiously. Every night after school he was there, sitting on my couch and convincing me why I needed a boyfriend. I believe on one of these nights he said "I broke up with my last two girls. I'm focused soley on getting you." Oh be still my beating heart.

But then this weird thing happened. It was Valentine's Day, and to be cruel I dressed in a short black skirt, midriff baring top and wore more dramatic make up to go to a friend's party. He was there and his jaw hit the floor. I mingled, I ignored him. He caught me as they started the music and he kissed me and I decided 'What the hell?' I'm cute, he's cute, we'd make a good couple and everyone was sick of me shutting him down. We dated for months. He pushed for sex but, being the virgin I was, I wouldn't. "Not until I have a ring on my finger..."

Oh how those words would haunt me. We got ready for the prom, or in Teen Land 'The most epicly important night of the year ever'. In the weeks before prom, he showed up to my house with a gift. A promise ring. He slid it on my finger and I thought 'This is it! This is how it always happens in the movies!'. Oh... poor naive little me.

We went to prom, matched to the nines in crimson and black. (I SWEAR I wasn't goth) And then back to my house for the after party where my friends and their dates crashed on the giant sectional couch we called The Playpen (so dubbed because you could make a giant square out of them filled with pillows and blankets). Again he pushed for sex. Again I said no. I was nervous (Of course I was! All around me my friends were getting pregnant. I didn't want that yet).

Within hours of waking up the next day, he dumped me. Straight up, thanks-for-nothing-babe, see ya, dumped me. I was devastated. Beyond that I was sick. I covered my bedroom windows with sheets, and laid on the floor. This went by for an entire summer. I nearly quit school. There's a picture of me somewhere in my cap and gown, posing with my friend Laura, and I look like a mess. I never stopped crying. This was the summer of '99.

So it's the end of summer. My parents drag me on the family vacation to the East Coast in some sort of weird foreshadowing of my future. I roam Salem, Boston and Rockport and start to come out of my funk. If only I'd known just how much I'd have to go through before I'd walk through Salem again.

I returned home and my arm was twisted to head up town. I usually avoided it because Rob drove an electric blue Dodge Dakota and I hated seeing it. Hated knowing he was with some other girl now. Hated that I was left with a fire burning. Our town was small, with one main strip where the teens drove cars, stood in groups or jammed out in tailgates of trucks. The movie theater parking lot was the place to be.

I was sitting there, minding my own business while people harassed me about all the weight I'd lost (thank you oh so much Mr. Depression) when a truck pulled up. I'd seen it around, but never really cared. In it was this kid named Jason, and he was looking at me. I'd give everything in my possession to have begged off as sick and not come to town that night.

Jason was kinda cute in a rough way. His nails were short and greasy from cars (this was not uncommon where I'm from) and his clothes were cute in a 'Oh look, he still wears Tazmanian Devil shirts.' I invited him to see a move with me (The Sixth Sense) and he jumped out of his truck.

The attention he gave me was like a balm on my wound. He held my hand, he whispered in my ear, he brought me small presents. He knew I had been burned, and that was his in. I barely recall much of the beginning. I was still in that depressed state, but having him there was bringing me out. It all went so fast. Within a week of meeting him, he took my virginity, more because I was deathly afraid he'd leave if I didn't. And you know what they say about the firsts. Years later you might look back at it and shrug but right after it happens you feel a huge connection. Or at least I did. I thought that meant love.

He proposed, and within 8 months of our first date we were married. I still can't believe that when I type it. I hadn't even known him a full year when I took his name. And even by then the nightmare had begun.

First it was words. Then it was random soft objects thrown at me. Then hands. For three and a half years he waged a battle on my self worth and my soul. I can remember thinking to myself "If this is marriage, I would rather be alone for the rest of my life."

Speed forward to 2003. The worst year of my life. I woke up on my birthday to find my bed on fire. I suffered smoke inhalation and worked an 8 hour shift in a factory anyway because Jason forbid me to take time off. In July, my brother and maternal grandmother died within 3 days of each other and sent my spinning world crashing all around me. When my friends tried to rally around me, Jason held a gun to my head and nearly ended me.

I gathered up all my courage and kicked him out, filing for the papers with shaking hands. It was awful! His mother blamed me, his friends took naked pictures of me that Jason had taken while I was sleeping and spread them around town. Everything I owned was repossessed when it came to light that he'd taken my hard earned money and spent it on a stripper named Echo. I was brought to nothing, stripped of every possible material thing. And then, my factory was shut down.

Jobless, loveless and carless, I drifted again, in and out of my mind. But this time I didn't look for what I was missing in the world. I looked for it inside myself. Around this time I decided to hang out with my freshly divorced cousin Derek. He had his own place so I'd go over to crash and hang out, and just generally commiserate.

He had a computer and this program that he was always on. mIRC. Internet Relay Chat. A game called 9 Kingdoms. I joined up, but never really played. It was a medieval setting and it wasn't really my "thing". I'm post-apocalyptic. Good lord I swear I'm not GOTH!

Anyway, I met this girl named Staci there. At the time, Derek was trying to hook up with Staci (who also lived in Michigan) and she had her own game. InterCity. Post-apoc. Perfect. So I joined hers too. Things bewteen her and Derek crumbled but I was already in by that point. And there was this guy named Siegfried there. He was different in that he wasn't seeking attention. I remember he asked me if I actually believe in ghosts. That was the first question he ever asked me.

Time went by and we talked more. I found we had a lot in common. Then we exchanged numbers. We'd talk on the phone. We started dating. And yeah, internet dating is fucking weird. It takes everything about traditional dating and throws it out the window. In October of 2004, I got a plane ticket and flew to New York City. By myself. For the first time ever.

I was nervous, I was scared, I was excited. By the time I landed and found my way to baggage claim, I was a bundle of fear and joy. Then I saw him. Now, I thought I'd been in love before. I thought I understood all there was about the heart. But I saw him, and everything just melted away. Was it love at first sight? No. But it was damn good chemistry. Love came later. But I understood from the moment I saw him that this was a chance at something real.

I've always felt people have more than one soul mate in their lives. I have had this kind of moment with other people who are in my life but not in a romantic way. My sister is my soul mate. Matthew is my soul mate. Laura, who has grown with me through all of this is a soul mate. Even when I met Dino for the first time. Every moment after then has been an affirmation of "meant to be". We were meant to be friends, and I will always believe that.

Rob and Jason were lessons for me in this life. To love and to let go. To value myself as I am, not as others find me. They formed the path to Matt and our life together now. Is it a fairytale? Fuck no.

A week after flying home from meeting Matt, he dumped me. Would anyone have blamed me for throwing in the towel and joining a convent? No. Did I? Hell no. Instead, I met Jamie.

Again, feeling hurt there's this guy who shows up and says nice things. He acts nice to me and it was what I wanted to hear. But, thanks to having prior experience, when the crazy showed up two weeks in I broke it off. Unfortunately he wasn't down with that and it took me months to get him out of my life. But by then Matt and I were talking again.

Is love ever some simple thing? No. Is love at first sight real? Not at all. Do some people get lucky and only have one love? Yep. My mom and dad are divorcees. They got married months after meeting each other and have been together nearly 40 years. Sometimes that shit just works out. Sometimes it just doesn't.


Being married for the second time isn't about being the perfect wife anymore. It's not about making sure things go the way they are expected to. It's about enjoying my time with him, and rolling with punches together.

I think a lot of people who marry young wind up in amazing second marriages because they learn a lot of things the hard way the first time around. What they want, what they don't want, and what it's really all about. Some have the good fortune of making a high school sweetheart a silver haired partner. Others marry three or four times before they figure it out. Some, never get it.

Does it matter in the end how your relationship compares to others? Nope. In the end sometimes you gotta just tune out the noise, look at the one you love and just let yourself exist in the moment.