Ones Who Were Not

  

Ones Who Were Not

The one who got away

(I used her middle name for this.)

My relationships with Misty were arguably the only actual healthy ones I’ve ever had, and the first one was in college, which defies logic.

We had a film class together and she contacted me when I replied-all to another classmate’s less-than-worthy script idea. Misty’s e-mail address was an AOL one, so I looked up her screen-name (remember those?) and reached out to her when she was online. I had had a few beers at the time, and used that as my “excuse” for doing so. We hit it off (as much as college students can via instant messenger) and I invited her to a party we were having. She showed up and discovered that we were surprisingly alike.

It was nice. This had promise.

A little while later, Misty described her outfit she was wearing to a club that night. I asked her to come by and model it for me. She enthusiastically agreed, then appeared in a corset with jeans. The look was very… flattering.

After she left, my friends wondered if I was worried about her going out dressed in such a way. Shockingly, I was not. I’m pretty sure that was when I realized it was really special with her. Did she get looks of fawning and/or jealousy from countless people at the club? Probably. But my concern was whether or not she had a good time, which she assured me was the case when she got back.

Misty was a year younger than me, so she attended my graduation and we were together for several months after. (I think it was around eight, but the time-line is a bit fuzzy.)

That Summer, she worked full-time and I saw her on weekends, but that got old. She was basically non-existent during the week. We communicated via e-mails but the connection we had was lacking. Plus, we were both in our early-20s, not exactly an age of understanding.

When she went back to college, I was given an open invitation to visit whenever. I remember doing so once but not again, mostly because her friends were a lot to deal with and I didn’t care for how Misty acted around them. Also, I had developed a routine of my own, and visiting her didn’t make a lot of sense within it.

Eventually, we split up amicably. I pursued things with someone named Kelly, but that went nowhere. I have no idea what Misty did during that time.

…

Several years later, Misty and I both worked on a mutual friend’s movie. Our romance was re-kindled and we began dating again. This time, we were not burdened by schedules and had communication devices in our pockets. How could it go wrong!?

Then we went to Alaska. Even in round one, we talked about wanting to go there.

I offered to pay for most of the trip, because I could afford to and it was the only way we’d get there. (She did not have the funds.) Before she accepted, Misty was concerned that it would be “my” trip. I assured her it wouldn’t, but I don’t think that feeling escaped her.

During the vacation, I noticed interest draining from her. Shortly after our return, she ended the relationship, claiming I was too much of a rule-follower.

I couldn’t argue with that.

 

The one who went away

(She reminded me of Christina Ricci, so I’ll be calling her Tina.)

Tina was my dream girl. She was pale and gothy, shared interests with me, and had a curiosity about the unknown.

The only problem was her boyfriend, who I hated not (only) for having her, but because he wore a cape. And was always sweaty. And smelled funny.

He was awful and I didn’t understand why Tina had interest in him. However, I didn’t interfere with their relationship, since I’ve always respected couples’ choices, even when I didn’t get them. But that didn’t stop me from befriending her.

I worked at a video store and she would come in sometimes. I could look up her account to find out when she might be returning. (Was this creepy? Probably, but it was sort of legitimate, or so I convinced myself.) She rented movies I liked and we would chat about them, but nothing else because strangers have always made me feel uncomfortable.

Then she came in with a girl I knew. Perfect! Her introduction was exactly what I needed to speak with Tina further, about all sorts of things.

We became close friends, though she knew I wanted it to be more. It was obvious. She looked like the girls whose pictures hung on my walls. I think she always liked the idea, though she never teased me about it, even when she sent me the song My Bloody Valentine by Good Charlotte. The lyrics were about murdering an infatuation’s boyfriend.

Eventually, they broke up. Actually, *he* ended it with *her*, something I really didn’t understand. I genuinely felt bad for a friend who lost somebody she had put years of effort into. But I was also very excited and tried to pretend otherwise but likely failed.

When Tina told me, she said something like, ‘I’m upset but I also couldn’t wait to tell you’.

Picture that: My dream girl basically told me she was interested in me. I had no idea how to react. I knew pursuing her right away was wrong but I didn’t want to miss this opportunity. I also had trouble containing myself, but managed to because I wanted things to go smoothly. We agreed to remain friends and see where things went, though internally, I was screaming with unfulfilled delight.

After a gathering at my apartment, Tina was set to leave and I offered to walk her to the car. I forget how, but we both knew our first kiss was about to take place in the rain.

Then, a guy who annoyed me greatly asked Tina for a ride to his apartment. The rain went from a positive thing to my downfall. Being unnecessarily polite, she agreed. (I like to think it was because she didn’t want to give away our secret. It makes me feel better. But not really.)

They left and I was devastated. Something that was finally about to come together quickly fell apart. It would have been magical.

That night, I drank way too much alcohol and left Tina a very long (and probably incoherent) voicemail. I wish there was a recording of it. Wait, no I don’t.

The next day, Tina called to voice her displeasure with the lengthy voicemail. She didn’t say so explicitly, but any potential future we had was no more.

We stayed in contact, but it was more for show than to maintain a friendship.

…

Years later, I met Tina and her new boyfriend at a bar. He was another over-weight sweaty guy. (I guess she had a type.) He was nice and treated her well, but again I failed to understand her attraction.

Tina brought a friend to the bar, who I hung out with after she and the sweaty boyfriend left. When our time came, I walked her to her car. We kissed, though it wasn’t raining, and it was probably ‘just because’ rather than meaningful.

The following day, Tina called to warn me against pursuing her friend, who (according to her) had a lot of baggage, like a sick grandmother she took care of. I could also tell she was bothered that the friend and I kissed, but she was in no position to judge.

Our friendship faded from there. We communicated less until she began ignoring me completely.

 

The one who never was

(She’s Australian, so using the name of the country’s largest city made sense.)

The weirdest thing about my friendship with Sydney is that relatively nobody knew about it.

She was from Australia, but I met her in northern Iceland.

We had (unknowingly) gone to the same concert and afterward she returned to the hostel where we were both staying with two men in tow. I was a stranger, but she asked me to protect her from the drunk guy who was aggressively hitting on her while ignoring his friend’s pleas to leave.

Sydney hid behind me as I ordered the drunk guy to get out… or else. Or else what? I had nothing to follow that up with. Luckily, he actually obeyed.

My new friend and I hung out that night, later finding out that we were both too shy to take things further.

She was taking a bus to Reykjavik the next day, and I was flying there. Like a fool, I knew where she was staying but got no other contact information.

Side note- The very drunk guy was also the one who would be driving her bus to Reykjavik. That must have been interesting.

…

In the capital city, I went to the hostel where Sydney was staying and asked if anyone with her name had checked in.

Nope.

(It took me that long to realize getting more information would have been helpful.)

Not knowing how to proceed and figuring I would never see her again, I went to get dinner.

And there she was.

Whether fate or coincidence was responsible, it sure felt like a victory.

We kept each other company the rest of that night then parted ways *after* exchanging contact information. She wanted to kiss me but did not want to share her head-cold, which I appreciated and hated at the same time.

…

Sydney and I kept up our friendship mostly via long messages and eventually graduated to the occasional phone call.

At one point, she suggested we meet in Glacier National Park- a place both of us really wanted to experience- for a week of hiking, listening to music, and whatever else. (Use your imagination.) I liked the idea but rejected it.

Why? I truly don’t know.

Looking back, it would have been amazing and possibly turned into an annual thing that’d still be happening.

But it never happened. I declined the opportunity because I was too comfortable in my routine.

…

Sometimes, Sydney would become angry with me for what I saw as no reason.

For example…

I ordered four travel books- Australia, New Zealand, Norway, and US National Parks. I sent her a picture of them, emphasizing the ones of her home country, its neighbor, and the one that might help us experience Glacier one day.

But she asked why I purchased the Norwegian book.

I explained that I hoped to return there for an extended period. Somehow, she took that as me saying I would rather go to Norway than visit her and screamed accordingly (through messages).

I could not believe it. Explaining I was not remotely implying that fell on deaf ears. (Or blind eyes, I guess.)

She eventually forgave me (did I apologize?) and we moved on but that is a good example of how her temperament could be.

…

When things got serious, Sydney and I would have intense conversations long into the night. (Usually her night, because of our time difference.)

Varying topics included psychology, history, cultures, music, and movies. She sent me a bunch of songs she wrote and recorded that she claimed to not be proud of but I was mesmerized by.

That sense of accomplishment is something I have never felt, despite having written dozens of articles through the years. Maybe she saw her songs in the same way.

…

One thing I always (unfairly) resented Sydney for was never giving me an ultimatum. Had she opted for a ‘Glacier or we’ll never speak again’ scenario, maybe I would have chosen her and this writing would go in a different direction.

Is it fair to resent her for never doing that? Of course not. But it would have forced me to make a decision and dealt with its consequences.

…

After too many years like this, I finally decided it was time for Sydney and me to re-unite, though I had enough sense to not expect her to drop everything and be thrilled.

But she felt very little about something that should have happened years earlier. I did not understand and therefore ended up pushing her away.

She ceased speaking to me for several months.

Then one day, she was back. She sent me a message about giving our friendship another chance, even though her brain told her otherwise.

Not wanting to lose her again, I made my messages purposeful and cautious. I did not want to make her regret contacting me.

However…

One of our topics was how my therapy was going, since she was proud of me for doing it regularly. I said the therapist told me about an idea called Theory Of Mind, which I likened to a version of heightened empathy.

Sydney said she did not need to be “man-splained” what empathy was.

I agreed and pointed out that I was not. (Was that man-splaining in itself?)

But it was too late.

Like the book on Norway, this sent her into a spiral of anger. She called me names which I thought were harsh even by Aussie standards and I could say nothing to prevent it.

And then she was gone. Again. But, I thought, for good this time.

…

In one final attempt to save our friendship, I sent her a shirt she mentioned wanting but was unable to get in Australia. I had no idea if she ever got it and, if so, how it made her feel.

But then I saw a picture of her wearing it. She received the shirt, but my bid to talk to her again had failed.

I live with a lot of regret and Sydney is a key character within that. Maybe she is living a better life than would have been possible with me.

Or maybe I should just stop thinking about her…