Bah bah . . . This Is The Sound of Settling

There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love. - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

I remember, several years ago when I was at Texas A&M, I was in the car with my friend Ivan Ochoa. We were doing . . . something. I can't remember what now or why we were in the car in the first place, which is funny because I remember this event so particulary despite, oh, give or take six years. We were in my car and driving near the Academic Building. I was lamenting about some idiot boy I once dated from the Valley and how although he drove me crazy, he wanted to give it another shot, and I thought I might. And Ivan, never one to mince words, said something that has reverberated with me for years.


Ivan: "Lauren, an ex is an ex for a reason. Remember that."


I know that is possibly the simplest, most rational thing to say, but for some reason, this advice has stayed with me for several years. Any time since then, when I've gone back to some boy I've been with before, stupidly thinking everything is going to be different that go around, I've always heard Ivan's advice in my head. I haven't always followed it, but, you know, at least I heard it. (Trust me, I had a few years where I got really REALLY good at ignoring any logical advice my brain was attempting to shoot my way.)


Well, for the last few years at least, I've been trying to get my life in order and actually listen to the subconcious and not-so-subconcious warnings my brain has been giving me. For the most part I haven't really gone back to dating or seeing anyone I'd seen before. I'd been tempted . . . probably the worst of all was near Christmas my 1L year, but luckily that blew up in my face before I could wreck myself on the rocky shore that punk rock siren always lured me to . . . but I digress.


So, recently, in the rollercoaster I laughingly call my life, I was faced with a conundrum . . . there were no boys to fall back on. I'm not one of those girls who needs to have some dippy guy around to make themselves feel worthy or special or meaningful . . . but there have ALWAYS been guys. Not that I wanted them. But there were always guys around, waiting in the wings, willing to take all the crap I threw at them. And for the first time in a very long time, with my favorite boys far away and the one person I was interested in emotionally jumping ship, I found myself completely and utterly alone.


And you know what my reaction to this revelation was? Nothing. I was completely fine with it. I was just insanely tired and full of too many Lone Stars and wanted to go to bed.


Of course, when the waters of the ocean of my life are completely placid, everyone should know by now that a storm is definitely on the way. Because God forbid I have some moment of peace or some time to myself.


Enter the most recent ex. He is different from most of the other exes because I was actually friends with the guy before we got together. We've known each other for years and get along swimmingly . . . so swimmingly in fact, he's the only person I've been able to jump back into being friends with after a break up practically the next day with no hard feelings and no jealousy or awkwardness. Our break up was anti-climatic in that pretty much no one saw it coming, but there was no real reaction from anyone's friends when it happened, and no one really talked about it--because it wasn't bad, or mean, or awful. I mean, we said awful things--but then again him and I say awful things on a regular basis to each other. Then we get over it. But it just didn't end with a nuclear explosion, like most of my relationships do . . . it just kind of ended with a whimper and we all got over it. I was over it in four days to be exact. He was probably over it in two.


So imagine my surprise when he shows up, a little drunk, slurring about how he misses me and just had to see me. I am always suspicious of such sentiments, because they always seem to have some hidden purpose--no one ever wants to just "see me." They have to have an ulterior motive. But, I checked my cynicism and gave him a couch to crash on, mostly because he was too drunk to drive back to Crawford. I, for the most part, ignored the fact he was there.


We had breakfast the next morning and it was our usual routine . . . I was making fun at his taste in women and he was asking me if I found any other vapid Sperry and Brook Brothers wearing frat boys to sink my fangs into. And then he dropped the bomb.


"I've been thinking and I think we should get back together."


I was too shocked to go for the obvious joke here, "Thinking? Don't overexert what few brain cells you have left, buddy," and just mumbled, "Huh?"


I had the sudden urge to vomit and also wanted to get him out of my house. The urge to get him out overpowered the nausea and I told him I'd think about it (all the while my head was screaming obscenities laced with profuse and resounding "No!"s). Why tell him I'd think about it? Well, I hate to crush people . . . especially face to face. I tend to be a coward in that way.


But, I did think about it, despite what my head was telling me. We got along okay, right? And he was good to me about 97% of the time and was only moderately intolerable the rest. He kept me from going out as much. Mellowed me out a bit.


He kept telling me things like how he'd been thinking about us getting back together since we'd broken up . . . but I hadn't. At all. Most break ups are usually followed by that mourning period where all I want is for the relationship to be bandaged up and heal. Hell, there's still some people I wouldn't mind getting back with and I think about it even now. But I never thought about it with him.


In short, within a day, I knew that my answer was definitely going to be no . . . all things considered. In short, I also had a sneaking suspicion that this need to reconnect with me was brought on by some quarter life crisis to start settling his life down--we have been receiving an inordinate amount of save the dates from mutual friends lately.


And maybe this is stupid, and this is probably the kind of thinking will keep me from ever marrying, but I don't ever want to just settle for something. You don't settle when you get married--that's how you end up divorced. I want a person who wants me just as bad as I want them and for all the right reasons. Not just because I was there when they decided they needed to put a ring on someone's finger. I refuse to be a poor man's settlement and I would never dream of doing the same to someone else.


So when I finally got the semi-guts to break the news of my decision (via phone . . . I avoided Skype because I didn't really want to see any physical manifestation of anger, disappointment, or God forbid . . . tears), I was surprised at the amount of anger that was directed back at me through the phone line.


"Did you even think about it?"


Yes, yes I did. I even told him I made a pro/con list . . . because I did. I'm a nerd, I know.


"Then what's the problem?"


Geez, I don't know, I don't love you anymore? (I put it nicer than that, I promise.) It was more like, I just don't have those feelings anymore. We're friends, you know?


So, predicatably, the sting of rejection turned into hostility and he parted with this lovely retort:


"I hope you know what you're passing up. It's not like there's anyone else out there that wants you right now."


First of all, OUCH. Brutal. But I knew better than to take it too deeply to heart because I figured it was his fractured male ego trying to compensate from some devestating blow I'd dealt him (I personally didn't think it was all that devestating, but whatever.)


I think I awkwardly laughed and then said, "Wow. You just managed to insult me and yourself at the same time. You'd be cool with me being with you because I have no other options? Do you think that little of yourself?"


I was actually taken aback because I don't think that little of him . . . he's a great guy, decent looking, has a good job, college graduate, yada yada yada. He's a great guy--just not great for me. You get the picture.


He mumbled something and hung up. Probably pissed that I "won" in his mind. Not that it was a game, although I guess it would seem that way to him. I was just utterly disgusted and horrified by the whole thing.


Is this what it has come to for some people? Others are starting to start families so we should as well . . . with someone we don't really love, but they're kind of cool, and we can put up with them, and everything will be fine? Really, this tells me why the divorce rate is so high. Are we so desperate for someone else's companionship we'd take it even when we know we were some consolation prize . . . we weren't their first, or second, or maybe even third choice?


I'm starting to get the idea that I don't necessarily view human relationships the way others do, but am I the only one that thinks this is nuts? That it's a recipe for disappointment and disaster? I seem to be missing that girl gene that makes me need to tie my life to someone, that makes me crave someone to love me, but still . . . I don't want fake or forced love. I'd rather be alone. Maybe that's not a widely shared sentiment. I know it's not. I have plenty of friends, including this young man, who seem to shrink at the thought of being alone. They prefer not being truly happy but being with someone to nights spent in solitary tranquility.


Like I said, it beats me, but at least I recognize the fear in people of ending up alone. Some people seem to fear it more than . . . well, death even. I've just never felt the need to have someone in my life to make my life mean something . . . but as a study group my 1L year taught me, apparently, this sentiment is not shared by most females. Well, at least not most of the females I know. This inherent need to be with somebody, even if it's not right--well, it terrifies me, even if it is the building blocks for the foundation for my future divorce clientele (evil, I know). Because I wonder if everyone is just going to settle for mediocrity and I will end up being an island unto myself.


It would kind of be nice to be an island. At least, Kempenski seems to think so.


But this whole exchange, this whole situation, it reminded me of the scene in "The Painted Veil" (excellent movie with Naomi Watts and Edward Norton) right before Edward Norton's character takes his cheating wife (Watts) into the middle of a cholera epidemic as punishment for her infidelities. Their marriage mirrors the fear and the settling I talked about above.

Walter Fane: "I knew when I married you that you were selfish and spoiled. But I loved you. I knew you only married me to get as far away from your mother as possible. And I hoped that one day there'd be something more. I was wrong. You don't have it in you."


Kitty Fane: "If a man hasn't what's necessary to make a woman love him then it's his fault, not hers."


Walter Fane: "Either way. Tomorrow morning we are to leave for Mei-tan-fu (where the cholera is), or I shall file my divorce petition."


Kitty Fane: "Walter, you can't be serious about taking me into the middle of a cholera epidemic."


Walter Fane: "Do you think that I'm not?"


Kitty Fane: "Everything you said is true. Everything. I married you even though I didn't love you. But you knew that. Aren't you as much to blame for what's happened as I?"

I prefer just to avoid that kind of situation--it doesn't do anybody any good. Granted, I'm not saying you're bound to end up as a knocked up widow like Kitty or dead from cholera, like Walter. I just prefer to wait. Marriage and love seem hard enough without half-assing or settling.

Paranoia and Panic

So, I find in life, and even more so in law school, knowing who to trust is difficult.

I would like to think that I have at least moderate judgment when it comes to others. I mean, I've been wrong a few times, but haven't we all? Of course when I'm wrong, I'm usually hugely wrong, but whatever.

I guess what it comes down to is that there are people in my life who I know better than to trust. Their inherent selfishness at every turn is like a blaring alarm that they're all about themselves and no one else. And yes, these people exist and they're practically unavoidable. But I have started to allow these people to get closer to me than I'd like--I've allowed them to infiltrate an alarming amount of my life. All this fully knowing that they'd throw me under the bus as per instinct.

And I've been able to ignore it. I've even felt bad about not trusting them--it's stupid, I know.

I know who I can trust. And I love those people. I don't ever have to worry about them. I don't have to spend time crying and wondering and distrusting.

I think it's time to downsize. Those who I have no trust in have to be the first to go. They are like a cancer on my well-being, and quite frankly, I am tired of being sick.