Mr. Poison Returns

It’s the day after Thanksgiving – my first one away from family and friends in a long, long time. I spent the day making a huge, foodie feast for myself and watched Audrey Hepburn movies all day. It was fabulous.

I had just finished an invigorating run, excited for my new friend date that night and hopeful about the general possibilities ahead, when I signed into my email. Mr. Poison had written me.

Maybe This Was a Mistake

I don’t know anyone here. I’m out of shape, out of money, and out of adrenaline. Without anyone’s validation, this new life feels flimsy.

If things don’t work out, I will have even less than when I moved here. Leaving Boston, I foolishly thought things couldn’t get any worse. Being dumped by your fiancé, in and of itself, is not even close to rock bottom.

Now I see that things could get a lot worse and that is a place I don’t have the energy to rebound from. If I hadn’t spent all my money and decided to start a new life, that reality wouldn’t be on my horizon.

I miss Jake – his humor, good taste and the way he made me feel special.

He was dramatic, and our relationship was rocky, but the make-ups were always rewarding. When things between us were good, they were the best.

One Saturday, he woke me at dawn and whisked me away to New York. He planned the whole day – took me to a little known museum, a tiny, tasty restaurant, and we wandered a charming and underappreciated neighborhood. At night, we met up with his friends in Brooklyn, where we got drunk and danced to a local band at a hipster bar. He stole glances at me from across the room.

There was the first time I celebrated the holidays with him and his family on the Cape; he was affectionate, proud to call me his girlfriend, and introduced me to his family dog as if it were a big deal.

Sometimes when I was getting ready to go out, he would kiss me softly and tell me how lucky he was.

His embrace wrapped me in warmth and comfort. At those moments, I never felt so much joy and happiness. Every good moment we had together I bookmarked for later so I could relive the happy memories.

His attention was like a drug and in its absence, I felt sluggish. Before we lived together, in those early days, sometimes he would go days without so much as texting me. Even when we were together, he withheld – emotion, attention, compromise. In those moments, I longed for the times when I felt loved.

There are never any normal moments in that kind of relationship – just highs and lows.

You do not see what you should. You only see how good it can feel and spend all your time waiting for the other person to make things wonderful again. Being with someone who withholds his affection, someone who dates and loves and commits on his terms, is a terrible place to be. I see that now.

That doesn’t make this move any easier. Moving to a new city is harder than I thought, especially at 29 years old. I miss having social commitments, having somewhere to be. I miss cooking with someone, waking up next to someone. I miss the feeling of being in love.

Ugh. Listen to me – I am such a cliché.

Enough.

–Jennifer