It’s late . . . really late. Rachael and I are going for a late night walk. As we stop at the corner, I mention that my place is just one block away and asked if she would like to come up. She agreed, and we proceeded to my loft.
We had been seeing each other for about a month, and she revealed many details of her past and present, but hid many others. I knew about the ex-husband, and the most recent ex-boyfriend. She told me that she was in no position to make any decisions regarding her romantic life. I was fine with that, after all, we were just getting to know one another, and we were just hanging out. But, after a week or two, we were calling each other pretty much every night, and texting once or twice during the day. We were attracted to each other, and we enjoyed each other’s company.
I got her some water then we sat down to listen to some music and look through some art books. On the phone we seemed to be closer, but here, in person, it felt like the Great Wall of China separated us. What was going on? Why was everything else so comfortable, and this so uncomfortable?
About a week or two before, I had heard rumors that the ex-boyfriend was not an ex-boyfriend, so I confronted her on this issue, and she told me that, in fact, yes, this was the case, but that she wasn’t into him anymore and she was going to break up with him. I was extremely skeptical, but since we were just getting to know one another, I really didn’t feel like I was in any position to judge her. I figured I would proceed with my guard up and wait to see what developed.
It developed, all right.
We have a couple of friends in common, and last weekend, I asked one of them what the deal was. He looked at me and said, “man, you don’t even want to know, but since you asked . . . That ex-boyfriend is moving to Los Angeles soon, and Rachael is really torn up about it. I keep telling her that she really needs to work on herself before she starts dating other people, but she keeps pining for him, and dating other guys.”
Wow. Look. I try to judge no one. As far as I’m concerned it’s not how much baggage you have, it’s how you handle your baggage that matters. If she had just been honest about the situation, I could have dealt with it. She would have felt more comfortable, and I would feel more at ease with the situation, and be more prepared to handle it properly. Now as things stand, I don’t even want to deal with her anymore. I’m not angry; I’m not even hurt. I am a little disappointed, though. Why all the lying? Did she think I’d never find out? How was this not going to blow up in her face? Can you make sense of this?