Life as I Know It

The Past, It Haunts

And I let it go on for too long, feeling things merely because it felt familiar.  What it ended up doing was hurting more than helping. 

The above is something I wrote last year, recalling my feelings on this guy I went out with twice. I don’t know if I have gone into explanation about him, and I am not sure I want to go into a full explanation of how things occurred with us.

Firstly, we were never a “we” or an “us.” These are just general words that fit together better, but have no reality behind them. In another post, I refer to him as “Scott.” It’s the furthest thing from his actual name.

Scott and I met online, and met up a month later. Scott and I had only spoken on the Internet, and never on the phone. Back in 2005, I didn’t know the rules of online dating like I do now. AndScott was fresh out of a five-year relationship. Actually, I am fuzzy on that part. I think he hadn’t dated in two years since the relationship broke up. I was his first online date, and he was my first date–period. This is something I never divulged to him (thank goodness, because he probably would have never gone out with me, and I would have been totally awkward on that blind date that a co-worker set me up on), and I am shocked he never once had suspicions.

Scott was my first real kiss, the second guy who held my hand but the first that I was interested in romantically (the other was my awesome gay friend back in high school), and a whole bunch of other things.

On our last date, we sat in my living room, talking and just enjoying each other. To other people this moment would be dull and not a good sign on a second date, but I felt it was intimate and connecting. I was sitting on the arm of my family’s large armchair, facing him (he was on the couch–I had just come from my room after getting ready for work). Scott gets up and sits in the chair itself. Now, I should have turned around and faced him, but I didn’t. Brad had my right hand in his, and his left arm snaked around my waist. He traced circles in my palm, and at one point, he drew figures across my back with his finger. He laid his head at the top of my spine, and we just sat there. There was some silence, but we mainly talked. In this moment I was the most at peace I’ve been in a long time. I have since experienced the same tranquility, but it was sometime later.

When Scott broke it off, I was shattered. I was in a fog for several months, when it should have only been days (if you go with the Sex and the City guidelines). And Scott, bless him, took my sadness and endless questions like a champion. We remained friends, which was a difficult process, but eventually I accepted it and coined him “My brother from another mother.”

He was the person I went to when I went out on that date that a co-worker set me up with. It was great, having this male perspective on things. I don’t have a brother, let alone any straight close male friends, so I don’t have that opportunity. Scott was a great asset to my life at one point. He was going to be my escort to my sister’s wedding, but then she and her (now ex) husband “eloped,” thus dashing the probable only opportunity I would ever have to see him again. And at the time I invited him to my sister’s wedding, he was in a relationship with a second-year college student. I was leery to invite him without first having her permission, because I didn’t want to be the “other woman”, or have her thinking something that wasn’t going to happen was going to happen (Scott’s ex cheated on him).

We haven’t spoken since 2009. And there are days when I miss being able to talk to him. He’s living in Vermont, doing whatever it is he’s doing, and I wish him the best.

In my next post, I will discuss that blind date.

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