…I gone and done it, continued…

I met up with Jacob again this past Saturday night. He was working, and got to bar IH kind of late. I had been there for a while, and when I was walking out of the bar to have a smoke, he came walking up. We went inside and had a beer. He told me that he had missed me the past few days, which he hadn’t expected, and that he had been so happy when he saw me outside the bar. That was nice to hear, I had definitely missed him.  Some people from his work were there and we ended up going with them to hang out at this guy’s house. So we parked my car at his place and walked over there. It was actually really fun. The guy whose apartment we were at is a sommelier, so he broke out some really quality wines and we had a little tasting. Everyone else was smoking some hash that Jacob had brought over, but I was already a little looped, so I abstained.  A lot of this night is kind of hazy, partially because I was drunk, and partially for reasons that will become apparent shortly.

At one point in the evening, one of Jacob’s coworkers, (the only other girl who was there) very pointedly asked me to go have a cigarette with her. She wanted to warn me about him. She basically said that yeah, Jacob’s great, everybody loves him, but that he’s like a butterfly – he gets super enthusiastic about something for a while, and then he flits to something else. I told her that I already knew that (which is true, and why I was still skeptical about this whole thing), but I suppose I should have given more weight to the fact that she took me aside at all. She’s his friend, I’m a complete stranger. It’s a little odd that she would go to the trouble unless it was pretty bad, you know? But at the time I was feeling really high from how great everything was going.

Apparently I passed out at some point, because I woke up around 8 am on this guy’s couch. Jacob and I were the only ones still there. Jacob was talking/arguing with the guy who lived there, and he was trying to get Jacob to leave – it was time to go to sleep, you know? We walked back over to his place, him holding my hand the whole way. He told me how excited he was about us, that it was so awesome that I could talk to him about art, and wine, that he was just so amazed and happy we’d met. He told me he was falling for me. At one point he made me stop in the middle of the street and look at the amazing view of the bay. He hugged me hard, and was like, “Look at that! This is where I live! My life is so great right now!” I felt so happy I thought I would burst open. I literally could not stop smiling. People have said, well he was laying on thick, wasn’t he? I suppose, but the thing is, he was saying things I already felt myself. So it really didn’t set off any alarm bells.

We went inside and of course ended up having sex, which was great as always. I snuggled into him, and we were chatting. I don’t remember what the hell made him say this, but all of a sudden he’s like, “My ex-girlfriend lives upstairs, I’m still in love with her. She’s so hot, like, amazingly hot.” Completely in shock, I sat up and said, “Wait a minute, you just told me you were falling for me 20 minutes ago.” Dear god, I can barely type this right now. I don’t know how or why I didn’t just leave, but we ended up talking a bit. He told me her name, and that she was much younger (24), but very cool and zen. And oh yeah, she’s a waxer. Nothing against that, but after he’d gone on and on about how important it was to him that I could talk about art…I asked why they’d broken up, and he said that they wanted different things, were going in different directions, blah blah. And that she had dumped him. Fucking great. This just keeps getting better and better.

I knew that he had moved here for a girl, and I asked if that was her. He said that no, he had moved for Megan, who was 40 and a psychologist. So then I said, “So…were you dating this other girl when we met last year?” and he said yes. That’s interesting, because when we met up back in January and I asked him why he had dropped me the first time we met, he had said, “I was being stupid, I got scared.” So in other words he was lying through his teeth. I asked him if she was the girlfriend he got back together with in January, and he said yes. I asked him something else, I don’t even remember what, and he started to get irritated. I told him I was just trying to figure out a timeline of everything that had happened. I said, “You’ve already broken my heart twice, I think I deserve to know what happened,” and he’s like, “Broke your heart? What the hell are you talking about?” At one point he said something like, “I know so much about you, you don’t even know! People in this town talk. Do you really want to go here right now?” I said that yes, I did. He’s said things like this to me before, that he “knows all about me.” A: he’s full of shit. B: the only thing he could possibly know is that I sleep around. Fine with me, it’s not something I try to hide.

After that he refused to talk to me about it anymore, and so I said I was going to go. He’s like, “Just come snuggle with me and go to sleep.” I told him I couldn’t sleep after what he’d told me. I couldn’t really believe this was all happening, it was such a steep hard fall from where I’d been barely 30 minutes before. I started gathering my clothes and getting dressed – I felt like I was underwater or something, and I was moving very slowly. All of a sudden he got very angry and said, still lying down, “You have two choices: stay! or go! I don’t care if you sleep on the couch, but those are your choices!!” I was stunned. I told him I just wanted him to talk to me. Silence. I came and sat on the bed. He said, “If you don’t leave right now I’m going to call the cops.” I had been in shock, this pushed me over the edge into anger. He was on his side, curled with his back to me. With the flat of both hands I pushed on his back – not hard enough to push him off the bed or anything, just enough to get his attention – and said, “Fucking talk to me!”

He bolted out of bed and started getting dressed, saying, “You’re violent, you need to leave right now.” What?! I started getting dressed again, and he said, “My domestic violence counselor will be here in 20 minutes!” Um, what?!! I started putting on my shoes, and although he hadn’t made a phone call or anything, he says, “15 minutes!” I realized I didn’t remember where my car was, and said so, and he’s like, “Figure it out! Just go! Here, I’ll escort you out!” and slammed the door behind me.

Needless to say, I was completely shocked, stunned, outraged, hurt, shattered. Did that just actually happen? I was dazed. I felt dizzy. He sent me a text: “Don’t worry; just don’t ever speak to me again.” I sat down on the steps outside his building, and sent back: “Are you being serious?? I care about you so much. I was falling in love with you. I was so full of hope, and now I am devastated.” He said, “You punched me. I can’t have violence in my home. Lose my number Jen.” I replied, “I disagree about what happened, but If that is what you want then that is the way it has to be. Good luck in your journey crazy boy.” He sent back, “Who is this?”

I found my car, and drove home in a daze. I curled up in my bed and dozed on and off, feeling completely sick. After a while I got up, and started drinking a beer on my porch. My neighbor Miles came out and I told him what had happened. He immediately said, “That dude’s bipolar.” We hung out talking and drinking beers for a while. It was exactly what I needed. It wasn’t until later that I started to cry. Hysterical, panicked, feeling like you can’t breathe crying. I was supposed to meet up with L to talk but it didn’t work out, and that left me feeling even worse.

I texted Nate and said I really wanted to see him. I warned him that I was feeling really down, so if he didn’t want to come over I’d understand. He asked what that meant, and I told him that something really shitty had happened to me, so I needed some affection and not hard crazy fucking. He said he wanted a change of pace anyway. He came over, we got right to it, and ended up having crazy sex anyway, lol. (My neighbor later told me, “You should shut your door.” Um, it was shut. I guess I was being pretty loud, oops.) One disappointing thing – he used to be a really good kisser, but lately he’s taken to actually licking me. I don’t know why, but it’s really weird and gross.

Afterwards we hung out for a bit and I told him what had happened. He was like, “Was he on drugs?” I just shrugged my shoulders. We talked for a while about his plans for buying a house, and how he doesn’t think he’ll ever have a relationship because he needs too much alone time. He told me that I needed to find some kind of activity away from the bars, and that’s how I’d probably meet someone. I’ve known that for a while now, it’s a matter of finding both the time and the will to do it. He gave me a big hug before he left, and I nearly broke down again. He was being so sweet. I’ve thought before about a possible relationship with him, but I don’t think he’s interested in that.

I talked to my friend Shan on Monday, and she agreed about the bipolar thing. She’s a nurse, and offered to send me some Xanax, and some samples of my old antidepressant – I went off of it because I couldn’t afford it. I’ve felt like I’ve been doing pretty darn well without it, in spite of this crazy fucked up summer, but this…I may very well need some help to bounce back.

This sounds kind of stupid, but one thing I’m kind of annoyed about is I can’t go back to my favorite bars for a while, because they’re in his neighborhood, and I CANNOT risk running into him. Because no matter what happens it won’t be good. If he tries to apologize, that is very very dangerous. Rationally I of course realize that I cannot let this person back in, but emotionally it would be very tempting to forgive him. If he ignores me I’ll be upset. If he says something mean I’ll be really upset, and I might possibly go off on him and cause a scene. So, just, no. I absolutely can’t risk seeing him.

Not to disrespect people who have really gone through some crazy bad shit, but I feel like I really did have a traumatic experience. I’ve noticed that everything feels hazy – my memories are foggy, as well as my present moment, like my mind is trying to protect itself. So I’m giving myself a little bit of a break this week, allowing myself to eat bad food and drink too much and smoke too many cigarettes and generally be lazy. I have a knot of anxiety in my stomach pretty much all the time. I’ll think I’m feeling ok, and then suddenly break down in a fit of hysterical sobbing. Because the thing is, the thing that people don’t get, is that it’s not just about losing him. It’s about all the things I was looking forward to that won’t ever happen now. It’s about the fact that he represented an entirely different type of life, one that I’ve desperately wanted for a long time now. It’s about the fact that being with him felt like living in sparkling sunshine, like I was flying – I had more fun and happiness in those two nights than I’ve had in the past year altogether. It’s about how this fits in with my overall pattern of being rejected, falling for the wrong people, that no one has ever really loved me back, etc. etc. It’s about the fact that even after the first time he screwed me over almost a year ago, I never really stopped thinking about him, and that scares the shit out me.

People say, there’s nothing wrong with YOU, you just keep picking the wrong ones. You think I don’t know that? It doesn’t help, it just makes me feel like there IS something irreparably wrong with me. Because believe me, I’m not choosing these losers on purpose. If I’m attracted to someone, I just am, and if I’m not, I’m not. It’s not like I have a conscious choice in the matter. The fact that I only seem to be strongly attracted to emotionally unavailable/manipulative/psycho guys is deeply shameful and frightening to me, because if that’s the case, how will I ever find a good person I can actually fall in love with, and not just settle for?

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