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Space It Out by Erin Harris
I met Todd five years ago in Tampa, Florida. We were servers together at Bella's restaurant. Todd was so charming, energetic, and fun that I immediately had a huge crush on him. We became friends almost instantly and had a blast together.
One year later, Todd left Tampa to go back to Michigan, where he started dating someone, and I moved out to San Diego and soon started seeing someone, too. We kept in contact for a couple of years, until one day he stopped calling. I knew it was because his girlfriend was jealous of our friendship, but I didn't let it bother me. I knew that if he and I were meant to be friends, we would be, someday.
Fast forward to one year ago. I was single again. I was walking into Kung Food, and I got a call. I didn't know the number, but something told me to answer it. It was Todd, and I was so excited to hear from him. His ex had broken up with him, and he wasn't doing so well in Michigan -- he said the economy was crappy there. He apologized profusely for not calling me and told me that his ex had been jealous of our friendship, just as I had suspected.
We talked on the phone almost every day for the next two months, until finally I convinced him to move out here to start over. I told him he could live with me until he got on his feet and was able to get his own place. Todd arrived in San Diego, and I was in love all over again. We had a great time reconnecting and just being friends again.
Three days after Todd had arrived, he told me that he was falling in love with me and wanted to be with me. I was blown away, but I had a nagging feeling. I thought it over for an entire day and then expressed my concern: I didn't want to rush anything. I felt it would be good for us to live in separate places. He had just moved to California, and I wanted him to experience it on his own, with the freedom to do what he wanted. He told me the idea was silly, that he loved me and wanted to live with me and there was no reason for us to live apart. I gave in and agreed that we should live together, and I'm still kicking myself in the ass for that one daily.
Things went well for the first six months. We were so enamored with each other and the love we had for each other...it was as if we were in love with our love. Todd asked me to marry him and I said yes, of course. It seemed all we talked about was having children, how we were meant to be together, and about getting married and how much fun our wedding was going to be. We got a bigger apartment, and right about that time Todd started to change.
He stopped confiding in me, stopped telling me things. He would just sit on the couch getting stoned. His sex drive decreased a lot, and when we did have sex, it felt disconnected. I kept telling him that I was there for him, that he could tell me anything and I would support any decision he made.
Two weeks ago, Todd told me he had decided he needed to move out on his own because he didn't want to continue hurting me and taking out all of his problems on me. I was hurt but not surprised, and we agreed this was the best action to take. I told him that if we split up and I see him with another woman, I would be really hurt, and he replied, "Oh, if I go to the bar and get drunk and go home with someone, I won't rub it in your face." Ouch.
Something was telling me there was more to this than meets the eye, so I took matters into my own hands. I went online to look at his MySpace account. I had set it up for him, so I had access to everything. Normally I am not the snoopy type because it isn't nice, but I knew something was going on. Sure enough, I find this long-ass letter from a girl he works with, telling how she would never treat him as horribly as I do and how she would always give him his space and how much she wanted to be with him, blah, blah, blah.
I called Todd and told him I knew about the two of them and that our relationship was over and that I couldn't believe he would do this to someone he considered his best friend. He cried and told me that all they did was kiss and that he did it because he didn't know if he was sexually attracted to me anymore. He said he didn't know if it was his own shit that was causing him to not feel sexual, or what. How lame!
As it stands, he is moving out, and we are broken up. I am not even sure if friendship is an option at this point. I am on such an emotional roller coaster. I go from sad and hurt to pissed off and vengeful. I must say, I did post the letter she wrote on his blog and bulletined it on his MySpace, so that felt pretty good. The biggest lesson learned: When you are with another person, both of you need to give the other lots of space. If you don't, you may end up resenting each other.
Tell us the story of your breakup and/or date from hell and we will publish it and pay you ($100 for 500-2000 words).
E-mail story to
[email protected]
Or mail to:
San Diego Reader/Dumped
Box 85803
San Diego, CA 92186
Here's something you might be interested in.
Space It Out by Erin Harris
Space It Out by Erin Harris
I met Todd five years ago in Tampa, Florida. We were servers together at Bella's restaurant. Todd was so charming, energetic, and fun that I immediately had a huge crush on him. We became friends almost instantly and had a blast together.
One year later, Todd left Tampa to go back to Michigan, where he started dating someone, and I moved out to San Diego and soon started seeing someone, too. We kept in contact for a couple of years, until one day he stopped calling. I knew it was because his girlfriend was jealous of our friendship, but I didn't let it bother me. I knew that if he and I were meant to be friends, we would be, someday.
Fast forward to one year ago. I was single again. I was walking into Kung Food, and I got a call. I didn't know the number, but something told me to answer it. It was Todd, and I was so excited to hear from him. His ex had broken up with him, and he wasn't doing so well in Michigan -- he said the economy was crappy there. He apologized profusely for not calling me and told me that his ex had been jealous of our friendship, just as I had suspected.
We talked on the phone almost every day for the next two months, until finally I convinced him to move out here to start over. I told him he could live with me until he got on his feet and was able to get his own place. Todd arrived in San Diego, and I was in love all over again. We had a great time reconnecting and just being friends again.
Three days after Todd had arrived, he told me that he was falling in love with me and wanted to be with me. I was blown away, but I had a nagging feeling. I thought it over for an entire day and then expressed my concern: I didn't want to rush anything. I felt it would be good for us to live in separate places. He had just moved to California, and I wanted him to experience it on his own, with the freedom to do what he wanted. He told me the idea was silly, that he loved me and wanted to live with me and there was no reason for us to live apart. I gave in and agreed that we should live together, and I'm still kicking myself in the ass for that one daily.
Things went well for the first six months. We were so enamored with each other and the love we had for each other...it was as if we were in love with our love. Todd asked me to marry him and I said yes, of course. It seemed all we talked about was having children, how we were meant to be together, and about getting married and how much fun our wedding was going to be. We got a bigger apartment, and right about that time Todd started to change.
He stopped confiding in me, stopped telling me things. He would just sit on the couch getting stoned. His sex drive decreased a lot, and when we did have sex, it felt disconnected. I kept telling him that I was there for him, that he could tell me anything and I would support any decision he made.
Two weeks ago, Todd told me he had decided he needed to move out on his own because he didn't want to continue hurting me and taking out all of his problems on me. I was hurt but not surprised, and we agreed this was the best action to take. I told him that if we split up and I see him with another woman, I would be really hurt, and he replied, "Oh, if I go to the bar and get drunk and go home with someone, I won't rub it in your face." Ouch.
Something was telling me there was more to this than meets the eye, so I took matters into my own hands. I went online to look at his MySpace account. I had set it up for him, so I had access to everything. Normally I am not the snoopy type because it isn't nice, but I knew something was going on. Sure enough, I find this long-ass letter from a girl he works with, telling how she would never treat him as horribly as I do and how she would always give him his space and how much she wanted to be with him, blah, blah, blah.
I called Todd and told him I knew about the two of them and that our relationship was over and that I couldn't believe he would do this to someone he considered his best friend. He cried and told me that all they did was kiss and that he did it because he didn't know if he was sexually attracted to me anymore. He said he didn't know if it was his own shit that was causing him to not feel sexual, or what. How lame!
As it stands, he is moving out, and we are broken up. I am not even sure if friendship is an option at this point. I am on such an emotional roller coaster. I go from sad and hurt to pissed off and vengeful. I must say, I did post the letter she wrote on his blog and bulletined it on his MySpace, so that felt pretty good. The biggest lesson learned: When you are with another person, both of you need to give the other lots of space. If you don't, you may end up resenting each other.
Tell us the story of your breakup and/or date from hell and we will publish it and pay you ($100 for 500-2000 words).
E-mail story to
[email protected]
Or mail to:
San Diego Reader/Dumped
Box 85803
San Diego, CA 92186