In which things get better, then much worse

Chicago was magical. HB and I completely reconnected and found again in each other the joys of the strong mutual attraction that brought us together in the first place. There is just a naturalness between us that I've never felt before with anyone else. In person, we joke and laugh and can talk about anything. We're essentially the nauseating couple you want to punch because they are so nauseatingly in tune with each other.

His family was fantastic as well. I was worried about meeting them in the context of everything between him and me, but I had no need. I usually do really well with families, and his was no exception. His mother is a bit kooky, but I could appreciate her in the short interactions I had with her. I loved his dad, who is such a jolly old man in love with computers. We definitely connected over some nerdy talk about our shared dislike of C++, and he could truly appreciate my passion for hardware design over software development. HB has two older half sisters who are around 40, and a younger sister who is my age. His younger sister is my favorite, and I felt she and I connected the most, but I got along with all of his sisters. I could envision a future in which they would be my sisters too, and everything felt right.

And I wanted all the things that felt right. So I left Chicago asking HB to give us another shot. He was tired and exhausted, feeling like he was always trying so hard to keep me interested in him and engaged with this relationship with less-than-successful results. He was dubious why this time would be any different but did agree to try again.

A couple of beautiful happy weeks go by, during which he found a job in Chicago. We were so excited, and it felt like this long and hard road is finally coming to an end. He gave his notice at his current job, with his last day being mid-November, and booked flights to leave China permanently by Thanksgiving.

Then things started to get worse.

My birthday was last week, and Broadway surprised me with my favorite cake, tiramisu from a fancy dessert place. He left it for me in my office fridge, but not before taking a bite out of it first. When I saw it the morning of my birthday, I broke down in tears and cried in the bathroom for 15 minutes. I still care about him so much, and I kept asking myself why I can't just be happy with what I had. Why did I need to go and make things so complicated? Broadway loved me so much and made me feel so special. Why did I have to be so stubborn and selfish?

That got me thinking a lot about what I want in a partner. I know that I won't find someone who is 100% perfect--that's simply impossible. So I will find someone who is 80% perfect, and whose 20% incompatibilities with me aren't a big deal. They're things that I would be okay with, and put another way, I'd be willing to settle on those 20%.

Broadway's 20% are completely different from HB's 20%. In fact, Broadway's 20% are a part of HB's 80%, and vice versa. If I could combine Broadway and HB, I would have a 100% perfect man. But individually, whose 80% is better? Whose 20% is worse? I couldn't answer that question, and that really shook my resolve to be with HB.

In parallel, I've been having this "thing" with a guy in my new friend group for a while now. We first met back in June (well, remet... I mentioned him briefly in this entry). We'll call him my Special Friend. Special Friend and I flirt, a lot, but nothing has ever progressed beyond flirting. I think we both welcome the attention, and on occasion, at the end of late night drinking sessions with the friend group, he and I will hold hands or have our arms around each other. While sober though, we've gotten lunch a few times, but they're always within the bounds of a friendship, and we never talk about the times when we are drunk.

Even without HB in the picture, I'm not sure I would pursue anything with Special Friend beyond flirting. He doesn't know about HB and so wouldn't know I am technically off-limits, and yet he has not made any moves, so I feel that he feels the same way: fun to flirt, but not enough interest to take it further. HB is insanely jealous of Special Friend (no surprise), but I always tell HB when I plan to hang out with Special Friend. Aside from our occasional lunches, Special Friend and I never hang out on our own.

A couple of weeks back, I found myself one of the last 2 people left at his house following a night of drinking. The other girl got up to leave, and I followed, except she left rather quickly, and I couldn't get my jacket and shoes on in time before she was already out the door. Now alone with Special Friend, who was drunk, he stood between me and the front door and tried to kiss me. I definitely wanted to kiss him back, but I was sober and knew better and resisted the urge. He said some nice and sweet things about me and told me that if ever I want a nice guy to hang out with, he'll be just down the street (we live just a few blocks apart).

The next tday, I nervously told HB that Special Friend asked me out (not mentioning his having tried to kiss me), and HB was happy that I turned him down. He was however, very unhappy that I wasn't able to tell Special Friend that I have a boyfriend. "Thank you for the interest, but I have a boyfriend." Yet it was something I was unable to bring myself to say, to admit that I was attached and take away future flirting chances with Special Friend.

Last night, Special Friend's friend circle (which overlaps with mine) planned a huge apartment crawl for Halloween, ending up at Special Friend's house. I found myself in the exact same situation again, one of the last two people remaining at the house at 3am. Except this time I was drunk. The other person got up to leave, and I followed. He left in a hurry, and I couldn't catch up and it became just Special Friend and me, alone. He stopped me at the top of the stairs leading to his front door, leaned in and kissed me.

Not being sober, I didn't have enough resolve to pull away. We made out for a long time, and he asked me to stay over. I did have enough sense to leave at that point, came home, drank some water and went to sleep. The full implications of what I had done hit me when I woke up this morning and realized that I, once again, cheated on my boyfriend.

I didn't want to tell HB, so instead, I broke up with him. It hurt to have that conversation, but he said he saw it coming. He's felt my aloofness all through the last couple of weeks. I told him that our being together was always a battle for me as I fought against my desires to be single and out flirting with other guys like Special Friend. He said that he knew I was always fighting that, and he's honestly a little tired of fighting for me and being nervous wondering about what might happen every time I hang out with Special Friend.

I haven't had enough time to process this breakup yet. I think I will be happier, just from the lack of obligations and constraints associated with being in a relationship. But I am devastated about HB and me. He has so many great qualities, and I've never felt as comfortable with anyone as I do with him. That will be so hard to find. He's finally moving back to Chicago, where we'll get to see each other so much more than we do now. I feel like I'm throwing something away right at the moment when it will start to get great. And I'm throwing it away because it's easier to break up with HB than it is to tell him I made out with another guy.

Oy.

HIM

I can't stop thinking about him. I sit here trying to get work done, trying to think about Broadway, but instead I just think back to how cute he looked when we got lunch yesterday. The beautiful smile, the witty jokes, the gray scarf ... staring into his eyes at the lunch where we agreed to talk as adults about what's going on between us.

To the average girl, I don't think he would stand out. Aside from being tall and slightly blonde (kept short in a crew cut), he has a plain face, wears glasses, keeps a scraggly beard, could lose a few pounds ... all in all, not a heart throb, just your average Joe. But I'm super attracted to him. I love the way he laughs, I love the look in his eyes when he looks at me, I love the shy smile he gives when we catch each other looking at each other across a big dinner table.

I love the way that he always makes me laugh.

I love that he's intelligent, an active thinker, a writer, a right-brain user, a bit of a space cadet but not too much, a clear idealist, but not too much to be unwilling to work for the man for a few years, buying time and saving to do what he's really passionate about. I love that he derives joy from the community around him, that he feeds off of the energy of others, of close friends, of valued relationships. I love that he is a good person, always aiming to do what's right.

He makes me question Broadway. Things that I previously couldn't wait to do with Broadway: take vacations together, get married, snuggle up next to him as we fall asleep, make babies, live out the rest of our lives ... all that have lost their luster as I see each activity as further evidence that I can't do these things with him. I muster up the energy in the mornings to call Broadway before he goes to sleep 13 hours behind in Boston, but it's not genuine excitement. I'm happy when Broadway doesn't want to talk because he's on the road to New York with his mother. I'm happy because I feel guilty talking to Broadway because I know I will be thinking about HIM the whole time.

I want to spend all of my time with him, but he's gone into self-preservation mode, and I can't blame him. He told me that his goal in this situation is not to get too hurt. He knows he will be hurt, especially when I leave Beijing in April, so all he can do is try to minimize the pain, so all he can do is refrain from seeing me too much.

He doesn't have to say anything, I know he wants to spend all of his time with me too. I know he doesn't because he is holding himself back. I know he needs to do that for himself. I understand, but that doesn't make it any easier for me to accept. I know that he's the good guy here who is doing this for both of us, but the selfish part of me wants him to throw all caution to the wind and just kiss me ... and more.

Yes, I'm thinking the unthinkable. I'm thinking the unthinkable about the engagement. How can I not when I feel such a connection with another person? I wouldn't be leaving Broadway for the obvious reason of wanting to be with another man, but I'd be leaving Broadway because my affections are so ethereal, so fickle, so unable to withstand the test of time. Is this new passion with someone else exciting because it's new? It's hard to remember the same level of passion with Broadway, but maybe it's just been too long, and my memory's clouded. I don't know if I should be marrying someone when I question these things.

Every day that passes is one day fewer that I'll get to see him. I leave Beijing in mid-April. That's 1 month and 3 weeks left. He leaves for Japan for a week (or two?) early March. That's 1 month and 2 weeks left. Each day he self-preserves is one day less that I can see him.

Beijing's not just another city anymore. It's the city that contains him.

I don't want to leave Beijing. I want all the time in the world to spend with him.

In trouble again

It's been a long time since I've noticed other men for more than platonic reasons. Broadway and I had a ton of ups and downs earlier in our relationship. I questioned being with him and compared him with lots of guys around me and wondered why I was with Broadway and not with these other men.

But for the past year, year and a half, we have been so happy and so content. It's not that I haven't met other men whom I've found physically attractive. I have, but I've hardly ever been attracted to their personalities. Now I compare Broadway to these men and thank the lord that I'm with Broadway, that he is real, that he is a good person, that he sees the world the way that he does. There's nothing wrong with these other attractive men, they're nice people, but they are not the kind of people I want to spend the rest of my life with.

For the past week or so though, I've developed a deeper connection with someone. The same things that draw me to Broadway draw me to this guy, and I'm reminded of emotional cheating. Even if you aren't actually cheating physically, the emotional longing still feels wrong. Unlike physical cheating where you can stop yourself, emotional longing doesn't feel as controllable. How do I stop the emotional connection I feel with someone?

This guy knows about Broadway and knows that we are engaged. He says it's the most frustrating unrequited love ever. It's not technically unrequited, just impossible.

weird dreams

Dream #1, two nights ago

I'm lying in bed with my roommate. (My roommate is male, American, white, 5'7"ish, nice average-looking guy) We're being affectionate and snuggling, and he keeps leaning in close to kiss me on the lips. I always turn away so that he gets the cheek. Finally I give in, and we make out. He's a good kisser, but I keep thinking of what to say to Broadway. I also keep pinching myself to make sure I'm not dreaming this, and am disappointed when I realize that I am fully awake and not dreaming (ironic, since it was a dream after all). I wanted it to be a dream so that I wouldn't have actually done anything to have to confess to Broadway.

Dream #2, last night

I'm back to college at a reunion of sorts with a group of close college buddies, including the Ex and his now wife. Broadway did not come with me. In the afternoon, with everyone else gone somewhere else, the Ex and I start talking to each other, and it's a very frank and intimate conversation about our relationship, where we've been, and where we are now. He said that he and I had a better relationship than he and current wife. This completely surprised me because I assumed our relationship would pale in comparison with his current one, and it made me mad because I couldn't understand why he would marry her after just a couple of years of dating if he doesn't even love her that much.

This confession brings us closer, and we end up snuggling in bed, naked, but in the giant hotel suite that our group all got together. Someone comes back to the suite and catches us laying together naked and I jump out of bed covering myself with a sheet. His wife comes back too and realizes what happened and storms back to their room crying. He and I look at each other, and I ask, "That's bad, huh? Does she know who I am?" And he says that she definitely knows me, and that I've always been a contentious part of their relationship.

He then leaves to go console her, leaving me to wonder what I should say to Broadway.

I don't know what these dreams mean. Am I lonely? Am I horny? Do I just want someone to snuggle in bed with?

Does this mean that I'm still somehow holding out hope for the Ex? I really don't think I am. What does this say about how I feel about Broadway?

In both dreams, I had the same feeling of dread, guilt, disappointment of "wow, I can't believe I did that, what do I tell Broadway now?"

It's definitely in line with my daydreams about being with other men. I love Broadway to no end. He provides me with all the care that I want and need and would do anything for me, but he's not particularly passionate. Or rather, I'm not particularly passionate about him in bed. We have so much emotional connection, but only minimal physical connection. I fantasize a lot but of course never act on the fantasies because I know how much that would ruin Broadway.

I sometimes fantasize about having an open relationship where we're both free to physically explore with other people but come home and have each other at the end of the day. I don't think I will care that much about the girls he explores with, and part of that is because I know he probably won't see that many other women, if any, whereas I would definitely have fun with a bunch of men.

So I don't know what those dreams mean. I am not attracted to my roommate in the least bit, and I definitely think I am completely over the Ex. And I don't want to hurt Broadway anymore.

no news is good news

Isn't that how the saying goes?

By the end of the weekend, Broadway decided that things can be okay. He looked me in the eye and said, "You are still the same person. You're still beautiful. I still love you."

He said he needed some time for things to be perfect again, but in the meantime, things will be okay.

I'm sory for not posting earlier. Thanks to everyone for hanging on to your seats :) I have gone back to all of your wonderful support so many times these past few days, and they have made the days more bearable.

i told him

I told him everything.

He said he was really uncomfortable last year when he found out I was going to a conference that the Doctor would also be at, but he didn't say anything at the time. His friend told him that he was a fool to let me go, to trust me, and still he said nothing to me because he wanted to trust me 100%.

We were in the local burger joint tonight for dinner. While ordering, I made a pact with myself that I would tell him after our appetizer dip comes out, that I wouldn't wait for the burgers. I had practiced what I would say already over and over and over again. Over hot creamy spinach and artichoke, brushing the salt of the chips from my fingers, I took a deep breath and blurted out that I wanted to talk to him about something.

"Remember when you were really sick last year?" He nodded.

"Remember when you thought that I would break up with you then?" He rolled his eyes, and nodded again. It's a sore point.

"Well, I did want to break up with you, but I didn't want to do it while you were sick, so I waited. When you got better, I still didn't break up with you, and looking back, I am really really glad because things got better. Lately, I've thought a lot about how much I love you and how I know I want to be with you forever."

He pressed his lips together, turned up a corner and smiled, nodded, and reached his hand over the table to stroke my face.

"Because I want to be with you forever, I have to tell you something," I continued.

"Remember when I went to that conference while you were sick?" He nodded.

"Well, while I was there, I slept with my ex-boyfriend."

His facial expression was exactly as I imagined it would be. It was the look of needing to get away, not from anger, not from hurt, not really from any particular emotion. It was the look of just needing to not be here, or there. He squeezed his face with both of his hands, squeezing through the tip of his nose, put his arm on the back of the chair next to him, took it down, didn't know where to put his arm, looked away ... He finally got up and said he needed to go outside for some fresh air.

I didn't think he would come back. He did, just a few minutes later. He asked for all our food to be packed up. I asked if I could go with him, and he nodded. We got into his car, and he started driving aimlessly.

In the car, I explained more, that it doesn't make what I did any less wrong, but I thought we would break up when I was at the conference, that the Doctor insisted and insisted and insisted. I repeated how sorry I was, and that I know what I did was absolutely wrong. There are no justifications and no excuses. Both of our eyes were filled with tears.

At some point, we got on the highway and started driving north, got off the highway and started driving south, drove all around some back roads, and somehow or other ended up at his childhood home in the deep suburbs. I had never been there before, and had bugged him for a while for having never shown me where he grew up.

Sitting there, parked at the bottom of the driveway, next to the woods, he told me about the apple tree he planted when he was little. He pointed out the direction of the creek that he had told me about a few times before (it was too dark/foggy/rainy to see anything). I asked him if his parents built the house, and he said no, but he does remember having tarp everywhere around the house when he was such a little kid because his parents had to fix up just about everything in the old house that they bought ...

He told me about the time he was about 10, and his dad drove with him to his mother's pottery studio some couple of towns over because his dad had somehow been tipped off that she was there having an affair. The guy's car sped off just as he and his dad got there. He told me there were several others after that guy. Always with his mother. His dad never did anything. Nothing that betrayed his mother, and nothing about his mother's betrayals.

He said that he wanted to kill the Doctor. I said that I have hated the Doctor ever since.

We talked about some random things, some not so random things. The rain picked up, pounding relentlessly on the roof of the car. The rain ebbed, and he tried to show me the city skyline from the top of a hill he used to sled down as a kid. It was still too foggy to see anything. Eventually we came back to the city and drove up to the front of my building. He left the car running, but we kept talking.

I didn't want to leave the car.

He said that it is human nature to forgive, but you can never forget. He blamed himself, for taking me for granted when he was sick, so early in our relationship, taking it for granted that I would stick around no matter what. He blamed himself for being an idiot in so many ways. I told him that he shouldn't blame himself, that what I did was wrong no matter what the circumstances were, that I did way more wrong than he ever could have by taking me for granted.

He said that it wasn't a competition, that right is right, and wrong is wrong, and he did wrong because right and wrong are black and white.

He said that he doesn't know what to do with all this. I told him what I wanted him to do: to forgive me and to trust me still, that while I can't expect him to do that, and while I would understand if he couldn't accept that, I still had to ask, just in case. I added that, as silly and fake as it sounds, what happened would never ever happen again.

He said that he had no doubt I meant what I said, but that the stars align to make the same situation in different ways, that the real answer is that it WILL happen again. The real question is whether or not he can take that risk, and whether or not he will be strong enough to face it again.

I didn't want to leave the car, but finally got up the strength to gather up my things and opened the door. There were a great many other things we said, but there was no conclusion. He said that he just needed some time to think, and that we will start from the top again tomorrow.

no change

I haven't told Broadway anything. I haven't been able to bring myself to. The timing's not right, or I'm too tired, or I don't want to say anything when he's still got work to do. I meant to bring it up last night, but he came over around 10:30pm to spend some time with me before having to go back to his office to finish up work. I didn't want to bring anything up in the short time that we had.

I've only averaged about 3-4 hours of sleep a night this week, so I went to bed pretty soon after he left. I told him to wake me up when he gets back, but I don't think he did. I woke up this morning and groggedly asked him when he got to bed, and he said around 2am.

I don't want to bring it up when there's a clear time frame for conversation: like when I have a meeting in one hour or when he has to go back to work in 30 minutes. I don't want us to be rushed to wrap things up because of external schedule obligations. I don't think that's healthy (or maybe it is? maybe a clear end to the conversation forces us to not drag out the conversation and lets him have the individual time he needs to think over things?).

I want us to have all the time in the world to talk about it, but he's been working such late nights that we just haven't had that infinitely un-ending time I envisioned in the evenings before bed.

A great big part of me wants to talk to him, mainly so that I no longer have to live in limbo of his not knowing, and my not knowing what he will do once he knows. That's been the hardest part for me, to know that everything I value right now about him and my future with him is unclear, and that it will remain unclear until I tell him. If he decides to leave, then so be it. If that's the reality that I must deal with, I will accept it and try to move on.

But right now, I don't have a reality to work with.

I'm calmer now than I was a couple of days ago, so calm that sometimes the situation seems surreal, that it's all actually in a dream somehow. I'm not THAT girl. This is not me. What I did isn't who I am, isn't something I thought I would ever do, isn't something I would ever do in the future. Yet I know that I did it.

I think this disconnect made it easier to brush everything aside for 6 months and almost pretend that it never happened. I've slipped back into that mental state during a couple of brief moments in the last couple of days, wishing everything away, delusional that if I don't think about it, then I don't have to face up to it having ever happened.

I'll see what the weekend brings.

heavy heavy conscience

Our long-weekend, short ski vacation was awesome, though I started getting sick Saturday night. We still went out for a few hours on Sunday, which probably was bad decision-making on my part.

Maybe it's the cold, maybe it's the contrast between work and vacation, maybe it's that things with Broadway have been so smooth lately, whatever the cause, every since getting back, I have been agonizing over something I haven't thought about seriously in a while.

This is really hard for me to admit. A while back, I did admit it. I wrote about it in anonymous bloggerland, but then deleted the entry after a couple of months because even the anonymous association was too hard for me to accept.

The quick story is that once upon a time, I cheated on Broadway.

I mentioned loathing the Doctor ever since June. Well, last June was when he and I slept together during a conference we both went to, two months after I had started dating Broadway. Doctor was also dating someone new at the time.

Broadway and I started dating in late March, and by early June, I was already at an extreme low with our relationship. In May, Broadway contracted a mysterious illness, basically a flu that never went away. He moaned and sniffed and downed Motrin and dragged his feet and stayed depressed while in bed day after day after day. At first I was helpful and sympathetic, but after some three weeks of this, I was pretty tired of everything. I desperately wanted out, yet couldn't bring myself to leave Broadway while he was still sick.

Enter the Doctor at the conference. He pushed. And pushed and pushed. He held my hand. He touched my leg under the table during dinner. He put his arm around me. He hugged me. He'd touch me at the small of my back ... and the kissing. At first, he kissed me on my forehead, but he was always pushing for more.

I was to blame also, of course. I didn't push him away or even really discourage him. I vowed that I wouldn't kiss him, so I never returned his kisses and wouldn't let him kiss me on the mouth, but I never stopped him from touching me.

Everything he did, he did the way an affectionate boyfriend would do, something Broadway hadn't done in a while

The Doctor and I had a very sexual relationship, and I definitely thought back to that during the conference. I even thought back to that before the conference, during the low times I had with Broadway. All of the temptations and tensions were there at that conference.

And then the Doctor asked me on the second night of the conference if I would sleep with him in his bed.

"We won't do anything," he said, "but I just want to hold you one last time." I stupidly agreed ... and what happened, happened.

Afterwards, he asked me whether or not I would tell Broadway. I asked him if he planned on telling his new girl. He said no because he saw nothing long-term with her, so why bring her that pain?

He asked me if I saw a future with Broadway. I said no, which was honest. He then told me that because I saw no future with Broadway, I didn't have to tell him. The Doctor said that he was absolutely okay with everything that happened because he knew for sure that he loves me more than the new girl. I said I was not okay with everything and ran out of the room.

I never told Broadway after getting back. He also got over his illness shortly after that. We went along with our relationship, and the whole episode with the Doctor faded.

It bothered me that I never seemed to feel the level of emotional guilt that I logically knew I should have felt. It bothered me that I would feel okay enough to not even think that much about it.

Until now.

With all of our relationship ups and downs, this whole month of January has been superb for Broadway and me. I am really starting to understand him and love him for the very things that annoyed me before, the things that made me doubt my future with him.

Which brings me back to the question that Doctor asked me. Do I see Broadway in my future? And now I do.

Because of that, he deserves to know what I did. He deserves to have the choice of being with me given all of the information. He deserves my being honest with him.

I know that I need to tell him, but I don't know how. I don't know how to explain why I waited so long before saying anything. I don't know how to ask him to forgive me. I don't know if I can forgive myself. I am mad at the Doctor for being as pushy as he was. I am mad at myself for having given in so easily to temptation.

I am most afraid that Broadway will never be able to forgive me. But I know that is more reason that I must tell him. I did what I did, and I screwed up our relationship last June. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I buried this forever.

This is all that I can think about for the last couple of days. I need to tell Broadway. I just don't know how. I know he will leave me, and I need him.