Saturday, February 28, 2009

Chapter 5 - Not Average

In the months following the break up, I really had no idea where to turn. Talking about it was just too painful and required me reliving the experience over and over, and truthfully what was talking about it going to really accomplish? I mean, what's done is done and I knew then that talking wasn't going to change I buried it. I took the hurt and the pain and torment I felt in my heart and buried it deep inside. I pretended it never happened, that HE never happened and just tried to focus on the good things in my life. I had work. I had tons of new friends and a new life starting at 'BCN. I was going out, to concerts, to parties, to bars and clubs. I was doing tons of new things. I had my girlfriends from Norwich who were there for me.
Things were good and dwelling on the heartbreak of August was not going to help, so rather than cry, deal and heal...I just forgot about it, or told myself I did and that process of "forgetting" would ruin most of the real relationships I would have for the next 4 years, but I had no way of knowing that then. I thought I was doing what was best. And at the time it worked.
It was during this time of personal discovery that I met the first man who started to wake my heart up. He was also the first in the long string of men that I dated in my various workplaces. We met when I was doing work for the WBCN Patriots Rock Radio Network.
At first, we would see each other in the station on Saturdays and Sundays as he was producing some weekend programming. It began with stolen glances, smiles and light conversation, but quickly grew into this budding romance that took me completely by surprise. I would look forward to seeing him on the weekend. I would stay later than I needed to just so we could have conversations. I found myself trying to find reasons to go into the studio while he was working or into use the copy machine while he was in the copy room. Looking back at it now, it was the first time in my life that I was actively pursuing someone. I mean, at college I had crushes and would talk to guys, but really I didn't have to do much to get them to be interested. But in this case I wanted to make my interest known. That was new for me.
Once he took a job during the week, things began to accelerate more quickly between us. I'd see him everyday and the flirting got more intense and ultimately led to us hanging out outside of work and "dating," though it was hard for me to admit that we were really seeing each other.
I can see that buried broken heart thing made me unavailable, even if I didn't know it then. He was patient and kind to me and gave me chance after chance to be with him. Chances, that looking back, I don't think I deserved. In some ways, I was lost in my own personal grief. I buried that grief in my work, my friends and a lot of nights out that were full of drinking, dancing, and sleeping on the 'BCN couch.
Regardless of my somewhat wild girl behavior, I did want to give this new guy a chance. Part of me knew that he was worth knowing. Part of me wanted to move forward. Thanks to that part I agreed to go on a date with him. We had flirted, talked online and on the phone, and it was time to make it real.
We went to Not Your Average Joe's for dinner. All the tables were taken so we ate at the bar. It was nice, intimate and real. We talked, drank and laughed. He listened to me, I listened to him. It was the beginning of something new for me.
Since the break up, my interaction with men had been brief and meaningless - a dance at a nightclub or kissing in a dark corner of a bar, which inevitably led to the exchanging numbers though we knew we'd never speak again. Those interactions over the 4 months since my fiance left me had left me feeling empty. I had fun, don't get me wrong, but there was no substance behind it.
I knew this date was different, it was the start of something. I remember walking out of the restaurant after dinner thinking how wonderful it felt to be treated like I mattered, like who I was meant something to someone. We were walking down the hallway toward the door and he silently took my hand and led me toward the exit. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, my face flushed. It was nice to be admired. Nice to be seen by him. That night was the first time we kissed.
On a boat in New Hampshire, just a few months before, a Fred Savage look a-like had shown me that my heart could be open to possibility. This was the first time that I felt that possibility stir within me. It was time to move forward and with this kiss I was propelled toward something bigger than me. Something that was going to help my heart heal.

1 comment:

  1. I love reading about this, cause it reminds me so much of my own situation!!