It all started with a roll of toilet paper.
Two, in fact.
My newly ex boyfriend Mike had an obsession with toilet paper. He'd stay for the weekend and seriously use a roll a day. I asked him about it one time. He said most of it was consumed when he blew his nose. *Most* being the operative word.
We ended our relationship on surprisingly good terms. We even travelled to Savannah post-breakup. In fact, we may have gotten along better apart than together! So I invited him to have an iced raspberry tea with me at Donna's, which was a refreshing break that hot July evening. There, laughing and altogether enjoying each other's company, I generously offered to drive him home (he didn't have a car- a point of contention when we were together). So we stayed longer. Soon it was dark and I didn't feel like navigating the roads thru Hampden, so I offered that he could sleep over. He agreed.
Next morning, he spent a longer time than usual in my bathroom. "You're out of toilet paper" was his rather puzzling announcement.
He emerged in time for my walk around the harbor with my dog George. But Mike didn't say a word. Finally, in a strange voice, he said "I know we're not together anymore and you just met the Army guy." He started.
"But" he continued, "I didn't think you'd hop into bed with him so quickly."
Aaaaaah. There was evidence in my trash can, right next to the toilet paper. And, even worse, it wasn't from the Army guy.
It was from J, who had slithered in and out of town in the course of a day. I didn't even think he was stopping over, truth be told, he had pushed off the dinner he invited me to and didn't even call until after midnight.
Hysterically crying on the phone to Lisa, I had already washed my face twice when J rang.
J was the most self-centered man in the universe.
Why was I still into him? We had broken up around Thanksgiving. After some very painful messages, culiminating in his "Shut up, let's fuck!" pronouncement in St. Petersburg, we hadn't spoken to each other in months. What's worse, we still had to work together, and every curt email from him was like a new death sentence.
So it was strange, getting his text message on the 4th of July. At first, I didn't know who sent it, then I ran upstairs to where my Eat, Pay, Love book was. I had written his phone number in there when I deleted it from my phone.
The numbers matched up.
I still cared about him, but I was trying to keep that to myself as protection. Was it fate? Mike and I had just broken up.
I reapplied what makeup I could and hoped for the best. Because I wouldn't be myself without hope, you know?
So J showed up, dazed as usual. George ran out to greet him, which was unusual. J ended up staying all sorts of late. I told him I'd been around the world and back since we last met. He talked about his writing, his son, the friends he had just visited. "So do you think we'll end up together?" I asked innocently.
"I honestly do," was his reply.
Then he noticed a splash in the harbor outside my window and pointed out the faint ripples from whatever radioactive fish was swimming around in there. I got up to take a closer look - fascinating how I never noticed that! And that's when he kissed me.
Of course it ended badly. He said he still wasn't divorced yet, but we loved each other. And the next day we had dinner and I got drunk at Meli and made fun of his O'Douls. He pulled back my shower curtain to kiss me goodbye the next morning, and that was it.
Now here's where the plot thickens. Earlier that evening, George had introduced me to David the Army guy, and I still had the Orioles ticket he had given me in my purse. It could be the start of something new, and I wasn't going to let my drama with J ruin it.
But the drama turned out to be with Mike. Honesty was the best policy, I decided, and gave him the abridged summary. He was horrified, of course, and has barely spoken to me since.
Two weeks later, J emailed me telling me how selfish it would be of him to continue to communicate with me. The very next day, my Mom got sick.