you + me = same person

I just realized why I have to keep Kenny.

I DO, in fact, see myself in him. It's scary. It's terrifying. It makes me face my own challenges - my own addiction. I can't give him any advice I won't take myself.


I broke the rule today. I gave him the link to the blog. So, hi Kenny. If you come back again, that is. I broke the rule for you. It was probably stupid, and certainly selfish. But you'll learn that about me - I am ultimately very selfish.


But by breaking the rule, I got a clue. He sent me his blog. (Awww, aren't we sweet? Just like trading diaries with sweet S- in sixth grade. Aw.)

This is the important thing I learned, from one simple entry: we both are tragically narcissistic and think we alone have control of everything - of other people, of ourselves, of the world.

He thought he could control a student. He thought if he gave her enough, was a perfect teacher, went out of his way, focused on her -- that she could change. He thought that his will alone would fix it. That he had control.

His own parallel: a poker game. I won't begin to admit that I understood all his card shark lingo, but I got the gist: He's got a 90% chance of his cards being the best ones at the table; pair of 5s. Cards hit the table: 2 5 8. He played accordingly. He's got three of a kind, right? But someone else at the table had equal odds: except his opponent had a pair of 8s. He had gone all in.


So. Here I am. With all this. With him. With life. With work. I go all in, thinking I am enough to win. That if I just play right, if I play just right - that I'll win.

I expect to be able to win, no matter the hand dealt. That if I say to him exactly the right way, exactly what he needs to hear, at exactly the right moment -- he will get help. He will be ok.

Ready for the worst part? That THEN he might be It.

I see 90% and think if I just Work Hard Enough, it'll be 100%. That my will and merit will override pure chance. This is the ultimate spoil of the American Dream. That's not a new thought, for sure. And the If I Am Just Good Enough thought... yeah, that's not new either. Neither is seeing what I want instead of what is there.


So none of this is new. So why does it all feel a little bit like a revelation? Because I've never seen it, quite like this, in another person. By seeing it in someone else, I might be able to see it in myself. Really see it.

Because I definitely haven't been able to see it on my own.


Or maybe I'm just looking for an excuse not to let him go.

The Thrill Is Gone.

Had brunch with Gatsby yesterday.

He called me out of the blue on Friday, at the end of what was a very rough week, and left a classic Gatsby Message. "I thought you should know I just finished a three-hour lunch at Commander's Palace. I'm in your beautiful town. Call me."

Ugh. My little heart raced, I got excited like a school girl from the surprise and shock - he was 6 weeks early?? - and I ran through all the possible scenarios in my mind.

After the initial joy, though, there I was, back to my traditional Friday night ritual (watching back-to-back episodes of Criminal Minds). And annoyed. Could he have warned me? Returned my phone call from a couple weeks back to say he would be in town? How could he be certain my weekend had room for him?

On top of the rollercoaster that was my silly, dramatic mini-intervention, fixated week: really? Gatsby? Give me a fucking break.

In the end I had to wait two days to see him. We met for Brunch on Sunday. I, of course, obsessed about what to wear, and how much makeup and all that silly girlish nonsense. Finally settled on an adorable designer dress I rarely have excuse to wear (God bless UAL). Went to get him. Had a lovely meal with mimosas and bloody marys and debris and grits and hollandaise and...

He is the same. He is Just the Same. Existential. Living only for the moments he can "fill his vessel." They had been to Harrah's ("what would your (gambler) friend say to the $400 I won on Thursday?"), Commander's, Visions, Lafitte's for The Purple... he was the Exact Same Gatsby.

And I saw him for everything he was, possibly for the first time in our relationship. There is nothing more to him. He's going hunting next week with friends, "Scott and Bobby Khan" - who will be pleased to shoot unsuspecting antelope from the window of their rented truck. It's quite illegal, he tells me. And he is thrilled to do it.

So almost two years later: the thrill is gone. I am no longer enamored with this reckless-yet-charming, boyish-faced womanizer. I am no longer intoxicated by his long eyelashes, his unreliable attention, his rule-breaking grandeur. He is only the surface.

Even now... I still want to believe there is more to him that this. That somewhere in that snarky, fun and funny exterior is a loving, full-hearted man. And yet, if after thirty-four years on the planet your idea of a good time is still strip clubs and craps, hunting down animals from a vehicle, anxiously awaiting the sausage they will become?

Yeah. The Thrill is Way Gone, Ladies and Gentlemen.


And it makes me sad. It has been a particularly sad weekend. I know I am in the rough two weeks. I know it has Been a rough two weeks. I feel in mourning for the love I had for him once. In mourning for the thrill. And I find myself still addicted to the unreliable flicker of something Good that comes from all of them... from Gatsby, from Kenny, from... a history of them.

I wish there were rehab for this.

A Different Kind of Gambling

It was a pretty perfect night. Went to yoga first, found some comfort about the whole "Kenny" situation. Met my dear married friends for sushi after, then we had ice cream.

At dinner, very wise S- said "Gambling is like the perfect addiction, because the high is totally erratic. There is no guarantee. But once you get it, you'll go back again and again for more, no matter how many times it fails you."

I nodded. I agreed.

And then he thought for a minute, and looked at me, and said "And he turns you into a gambler too."

I nodded. And then it hit me how right he was. How addicted I was to an erractic lover - to many erratic lovers. Those who make me happy once, then disappoint over and over again. And I give them too many chances to give me that little happiness. It was an interesting realization.


And then today, Kenny texted me. Clearly needed something. I missed the text(s) for hours, and then discovered them, asked him what's up.

"I've been up for a Long time. Wanted to know if I could nap at your house for a couple hours?"

And I knew what that meant. He later told me he had been up at 7am, and yes, he had been at the casino since then. All night he had been at a table. A dealer had brought him a sausage biscuit in the morning when he started his shift. He had played poker all. night. long.

And finally, by noon, he was done. Out. Exhausted.

"I can't. I want to talk more about it - in person - but I just can't."

About forty minutes later I got the text: "This is terrifying." He told me he was going to park his car in a safe place. He fell asleep, and when he woke up, a neighborhood homeless resident we all call "The Shaman" was walking by his car.

"Yes it is." I wrote back.

":panic:"

So I told him to come to my office, which he did. I hugged him, and he started to act all cool, and then pretty quickly said "I am really not ok. I'm not ok at all."

I sat downstairs with him, talking. Told him about the residential treatment program in LA for compulsive gamblers: it is 100% free to residents of Louisiana. This amazes me. He was hesitant. Admitted that he hadn't been happy in years, basically since he started gambling. And that he couldn't imagine what his parents would think. And he couldn't make any promises. And I sat with him. I didn't exactly take no for an answer. I told him he was "not off the Veritas-hook", but had to go upstairs to finish my work. He came and fell asleep on the futon.

When I woke him up after 5, when I was leaving, he said if I would not let him sleep in his car tonight, he would have a serious talk about it with me in the morning. I said, that plus: You must promise me you will go to one G.A. meeting. I made him shake on it. Look me in the eye.

I don't entirely believe him. I would drive him to Shreveport in the morning (except my car sucks) - I would do a lot of things to see that he gets help. But this is it.

I'm afraid of a lot of things - that he'll wake up in the middle of the night and leave. That I've been duped. Again. That in the morning he'll wake up and convince me somehow that he doesn't need to go. He's promised to go to a GA meeting. Isn't that enough?

At this point, I think I've done everything I can do. I will have a serious conversation in the morning. Give him his options, but stick to my guns. I am ready to cut him off if that's what needs to happen.

I just really hope not.

Repeat, repeat.

Sorry about that last string of similar posts written over and over. Although isn't it interesting to see the same story told three ways over three weeks? Right? Humor me.

Even though no one reads this but me, it's nice to occasionally come back and read months of realizations and consideration and ideas that I've written. To laugh at my own clever little jokes. To judge my own casual grammar mistakes.

I've learned a couple new things:

1. I may never learn. I get way too attached to people way too soon.
2. I'm in a hurry. Period. I rush things. It's almost impossible for me to slow down. It's almost Painful to slow down.
3. I'm funny.
4. I went to a "Phoenix Rising" yoga therapy session on Friday. I discovered how important security is to me. Safety, surety. I suppose I knew that already, but not in so many ways.

I don't know what else really, except it really is good to come back and read all these posts over and over again. I wish I were inspired to write more often about things other than how disappointed or brokenhearted the men in my life have left me.

Perhaps one day I will. Perhaps one day I've have more patience. Perhaps one day I'll love a man who doesn't disappoint or break my heart. Perhaps.

Well, there was that.

A month ago, I re-met this boy. We'll call him Kenny.

Kenny was enamored with my new haircut. He was also too young for me. When the 31 year old I'm dating is too young, 26 is too young too.

So he adds me as a friend on facebook. 21st century dating protocol being what it is... and we FB chat, then we start G-chatting... finally we progress to texting. Before I knew it I had spent every day with him for a week and he was my "bff" and then, all of a sudden, my soulmate.

There were some issues, sure. He was still too young. He was in a "rough spot" - between jobs, sleeping on a friend's couch, broke. But he had Potential. And God love him, he was so smart, and funny, and clever. And he came up with about 500 different puns on my name, which was really fun. My most favorite referenced a popular communist leader.


We tiptoed and then danced around and finally walked right up and acknowledged something had happened between us. Something romantic. "The irony is not lost on me that you are telling me what's best for me while you represent exactly the opposite." I bet him that he couldn't stay single until January 1st.

Here's the real irony: I made a bet with a compulsive gambler. A bet I secretly hoped he'd lose. What an idiot.

Because as soon as he came into some money, he disappeared into a self-described "off-the-radar bubble," and suddenly became elusive, evaporative. Made commitments and just bailed on them. Changed plans at any moment. Became simultaneously self-absorbed and self-abhorrent.

The hardest thing about it is walking away. Clean cuts. Clean separation. If I hear from him again, which is a big IF, I'll let him know my concern. How much I care. And that if he doesn't go to a program, I have no desire to see him again.

Nothing else I can do, really. Very hard to just let go and walk away. But it's both the best thing I can do for him, and the best thing I can do for me. Give him the space to come back here when he needs to, and be ready to be very clear when he does.

We had a beautiful weekend of pancakes, crossword puzzles and football. It was lovely, and I loved him. I still love him for that weekend, and for making me hopeful, even if it was never meant to be.

Same old Same old.

I've gotten myself all wrapped up in it again.

Did I mention I met my soulmate? I suppose I met him months ago, but really started getting to know him weeks ago. Like Two weeks.

And we started out being BFFs. And after knowing some things about his history, I made a bet with him: I bet you can't stay single until January 1st. Even better, I bet you can't stay single until your birthday (February 6th or 7th; I can't remember). The only conditions: you may have "meaningless" sex. One night stands and the like. You may not, however, call her the next day. You may not text her.

The spoils? Dinner, cooked a la Veritas. If you make it til your birthday, throw in a massage.

I made this bet nearly two weeks ago. I had no idea I would now want him to lose it. I always knew he was attractive, but I didn't think... I don't know.


So here I am, some weeks later, and after him "text-stalking" me last week, he has now left me alone all day. Why is it that I am afraid people will grow tired of me? We did Not have sex, but I did give him a BJ after which he suggested I write a book. Perhaps he simply realizes we both need some time away. Maybe, as he said last week, "you + me = same person."

We both need some distance. We both might be freaking out a bit.

Or maybe it's just me.

Twitterpated

Nothing on Twitter seems to matter.

Facebook either.

And it's not just exhaustion with the day to day nonsense. Well, it may be that too. It may be downright exhaustion at 4 am.

Is it still possible in my life to be in love with someone after only really getting to know them for one week?  It can't possibly be.  It can not possibly be.

How is it things that have been extaordinarily annoying in other people are now endearing, amusing? Am I just atwitter? No pun intended. No kissing, no touching, even, except a hug good night. Which is what Friends do.

Am I still simply drawn to the unavailable?  He is unavailable because of his circumstance, his... Humanity.  He's got much to do and I know it and yet.... How could I already be so entranced?

Part of me has grown weary of second guessing, questioning what's wrong - and instead wants to just "go with it." Despite the bet.  Ha!

Who bets the boy she likes that he can't stay single for 4 months?