My life is supposed to be lived. One of the things I originally loved about teaching was the many possibilities and opportunities that would be available to me. I could spend my fall and winter teaching, putting new ideas and sparking inspiration in the youth. Then my late springs and summers could be spent in any way I wanted to. I could travel. I could go back to school. I could try my hand at some more acting. I could write my novel or my poetry.
There are so many things I want to do with my life. So many experiences I want to have, places I want to see, books I want to write, stories I want to share. But somehow I got trapped. I have felt myself settling down for years now. I began to picture my life very differently. I knew I wanted all these experiences and I wanted to be a mom someday. I thought I had found the man I would spend the rest of my life with. The problem was he didn’t want the same things in life that I did. He didn’t care about the experiences I wanted to have. I began to think I would eventually have to choose between a life with him or the life I had dreamed I would have. I was willing to pick him.
I knew it was going to come down to kids or traveling. He talked about having kids like it was some kind of financial burden and not creating new life. Everything that placed more responsibility on him was something to shrink from. He didn’t have a car because he didn’t want to pay for the insurance, the gas, and the repairs. He didn’t want an apartment until he realized it would be cheaper than a dorm room. He didn’t want to have kids because for 18 years you had to think of them and no one else.
I wonder if he ever once thought of someone else. I thought he did. He took care of me when I was sick. I thought that meant he cared. He got me out of a bad situation with bad roommates. But I would never have been in that situation in the first place if I had thought he would move in with just me. He wrote me a love story in the very beginning. A story about a boy who was in love with a girl but he didn’t think he could have her because he didn’t think he deserved that kind of happiness. But eventually they both figure it out and their love is beautiful. Self-sacrificing even. He kills himself at the end of the story. I should have taken that as a hint.
I made a list of all the most explicit rules. There were 18.
1) No changing with Mel in the room.
2) No kissing Jewels or Mel.
3) No letting Jewels play with my boobs.
4) No slapping friends’ butts or letting them slap mine.
5) No kissing Garret’s chin.
6) No French kissing.
7) No kissing after my mouth has been on his penis.
8) No sending him naked pictures of myself.
9) No kissing in the shower.
10) No being loud during sex.
11) Danielle must wipe her feet off before getting in the bed.
12) No pants on in the bed.
13) No having the heating pad on during the night.
14) Danielle must be willing to remove shirt when Garret comes to bed.
15) Danielle must brush teeth before bed no matter how late Garret keeps her awake.
16) Danielle must have a logical reason for all of her feelings.
17) No stuffed animals in the bed.
18) No more than the one pillow in the bed.
The best gift he ever got me he didn’t even pick out himself. My brother picked it out and then money exchanged hands.
He told me I was perfect. He told me he loved me. He told me he would love me for forever. He told me I was the one. He took it back. He told me I was beautiful. He told me I was pretty. He told me he liked smaller boobs but he liked mine. He told me my attachment to him was unhealthy. He stopped kissing me. He told me he didn’t know he had stopped kissing me but it was because he didn’t like tongue. He told me he wanted me to be happy. He told me he was going out of state for grad school. He told me he would get a car. He told me he changed his mind about going out of state so we could be together. He told me he was sorry for putting me through everything and he really did want to be with me. He told me he wanted to marry me and have a family with me some day. He told me we would get a place together in Orono and I would get a teaching job there. He told me he wanted to be engaged to me. He told me she looked like a horse. He told me they were just friends. He told me he wouldn’t ever date her. He told me he was worried that he might resent me because I was the only girl he had ever been intimate with. He told me I lied to him and he couldn’t forgive that after all. He told me it was eating away at him and maybe there was something there I needed to explore. He told me we would take the night and the next day to think about it and then talk. He told me he loved me. He told me he thought it was for the best. He told me they were just going on a few dates to see what it was like. Facebook told me they were in a relationship.
They say actions speak louder than words. If that is the case then I should never have believed a God damn thing he said. Since then I have knowingly used guys and allowed myself to be used by guys. I never felt more used than when I was with him. If I wasn’t talking to him then he wanted me to talk to him. If I talked to him about the things I loved he tore them apart until I cried. If I wanted him, he didn’t want me. If I didn’t want him, he wanted me and it didn’t matter what the fuck I wanted. What I wanted, what I loved, what I cared about never mattered to him. I never counted as anything more than another accomplishment. I was there. And I was easy. And I was vulnerable because I loved him and would do anything to keep him. He wouldn’t do the same for me. And I knew it. Why do we keep giving when we shouldn’t? When we should give up?
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