The Force Wasn’t With Us
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 22, 2010 - 6:31 am
Here’s another one from The Breakup Chronicles archives. Enjoy!
I knew early into the relationship that he was an addict. Although in his circle, they called themselves collectors. Addict, collector, fanatic. Call it what you will. But in my book, anyone who camps outside overnight to see a movie needs help. We met at a party. One of my first since returning to Los Angeles after the breakup in Arizona. I was not looking for love. I didn’t even want to be at the party. But friends had dragged me, so there I was. Through the course of the night, I met his roommates, his friends, and then on my way out the door, I met him. And I just knew. As I walked down the block, I bitched to my friends that the short Hispanic ones always like me.
In the coming months, we’d get together for dinner regularly. His roommates and him, my roommate and me. We became a platonic dinner club, sharing a love of good food, movies, and laughter. And over time, I began to think I would have been lucky had he liked me. He was a good guy. Sweet, funny, sincere. So when he asked me to go out just the two of us six months into our friendship, I agreed. And thus, the beginning of the affair. He was a good man. And I needed someone nice. Which is why I looked past the wall of Star Wars action figures the first time I saw his bedroom. I reasoned with myself, we had a good time, didn’t we? It didn’t matter if he spent all his money on action figures instead of treating me to dinner, right? Maybe nice guys don’t pay for dinner. I could live with that.
But it wasn’t just action figures I was competing with. It was the memory of his ex-wife leaving him, the fact that his college glory days were behind him, his laziness towards his career while mine was just taking off. These were the strikes against us. In the three years we were together, we had many good times. But I knew it wouldn’t last. While other female friends in shorter relationships got engaged and then married, we told each other we didn’t want to ruin what we had by walking down the aisle. The truth was, I didn’t want to marry him. And he was too burned to want to marry again.
Two and a half years into our relationship, we decided to move in together. It was a great apartment. Big kitchen, second bedroom to be used as an office. Killer living space. And it was all decorated with Star Wars stuff. In his defense, I traveled light, and didn’t have much to contribute to the household. Still, being surrounded by memorabilia was like living in a wacky museum. And it wasn’t just the decor. Instead of the two of us coming together to form one cohesive life, it was like two roommates cohabitating in the same space. I’d get home from work, he’d be playing video games. I’d go in the office to write, he’d eventually come in to check on his eBay bids. I’d go watch T.V. He’d play computer games. I’d go to bed. He’d come hours later after I was fast asleep.
We squabbled over the chores. If he had to do laundry more than once in a row, he pouted. I was constantly feeding the cats and scooping the litter box and going to the grocery store alone. The big excitement in our lives? Going to Toys R Us in search of new action figures. Seeing Episode One on opening night. And the following week. And then in Digital. It was an okay life. There was nothing particularly wrong. But nothing particularly right either. I began asking myself, when does today become forever? And if this is forever, can I live with that? More and more often, the answer was no.
And then one day I was done. I can’t explain it any better than that. We were coming up on our three year anniversary and I didn’t feel like celebrating. We were fighting more and more, and the arguments were getting heated. I realized I wanted more than he could give. And whenever I tried to talk to him about it, he’d brush me off with “We’ll talk about it later.”
But later wasn’t cutting it. And so one day when I came home from work, I asked him to turn off the video game. We sat down and talked. And cried. And talked some more. I moved out the next day. I felt bad leaving him, knowing he’d already been down that road with his ex-wife. But if he didn’t change, he’d go down that road again. And that wasn’t my problem. Those were his battles to face. Moving on was easier than I thought. There were sad times, but I never looked back. I knew I’d done the right thing. Since then, I hear he’s gotten way more into his collection. I guess unlike women, those action figures will never leave him. I hope for his sake they’re insured.
As for me, I now live in a condo with a wall of dolls. Okay, maybe he rubbed off on me. But in a good way. While they bring me joy, they’ll never become my life. Or my love. I reserve those feelings for an individual with a life force of his own. And hopefully the force will be with us.
Breaking Up Your Finances: How to Untangle Your Lives After Heartbreak
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 21, 2010 - 7:00 am
Breakups aren’t just about the end of a romantic pairing. There are numerous financial, legal, and business decisions that may need to be addressed. If you and your ex share bank accounts or other assets, you’ll need to come to an agreement about how to divide the money/other assets and then contact the relevant banking/other institution(s) to find out how to legally proceed. Again, it’s important to keep a level head about these things and not act out of anger, spite, or bitterness. These are financial decisions. Respect yourself as well as your ex, and be fair throughout the process (no matter how much you want to punch him in the face!).
You may also need to identify others ways your lives became intertwined. Car insurance, health insurance, retirement plans, credit cards, personal loans, household bills, etc. These are all potential accounts and/or policies that you and your ex may currently share. When you breakup, it’s essential that you remove the other person from each and every one of these items. If you don’t, one or more of the following scenarios could come back to haunt you in the future:
- You get turned down for a home or car loan because your ex, still attached to an account you shared while you were together, negatively affected your credit.
- Because you never removed your name (or your ex’s) from an account, a collection agency comes after you for a debt your ex never paid.
- By not taking your ex off your health insurance policy, you become financially responsible (and ultimately financially drained) for a medical emergency they encounter weeks, months, years down the road.
- If you die in an accident and haven’t changed the beneficiary on your assets (your home, retirement plan, savings account), your ex can possibly claim those assets, leaving a rightful heir with nothing.
As uncomfortable as conversations about money, property, and other assets can be when going through a breakup, you must have these difficult discussions if they apply to you and your ex’s situation. Do your best to broach the subject with fairness and compassion, and insist that your ex does the same. Obviously, the situation becomes stickier if and when one of you uses the unresolved issues as a way to seek revenge, hold on to the other person, or prolong the separation process. If you feel that things are getting out of control, you may need to involve a mediator. Trust your gut about the situation and proceed with the necessary caution.
Need help navigating the tricky terrain of breakups and money? Pick up copies of my books
It’s A Breakup Not A Breakdown: Get over the big one and change your life – for good! and It’s a Breakup, Not a Breakdown Workbook: A 21-Day Action Plan to Plot Your Revenge, Spoil Yourself, and Find Out How Good Your Life Is Without Him.
And leave a comment about how you’re handling the splitting of assets with your ex.
Men Weigh In On Their Backup Plans
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 19, 2010 - 7:08 am
Recently, I blogged about some amazing women and how they implemented their Backup Plans when Plan A no longer suited them. Now, the men weigh in on their Backup Plans…
“After a PhD in physics and 9 years of holding corporate roles in the software industry, when my company had to close the Atlanta office, I decided to fully pursue my passion – photography. Now, over a year later, I own a thriving portrait photography business (lifestyle portraits of babies and families).
- Oana
“I had been in the military and Corporate America as an engineer for 12 years and it just wasn’t working for me. I was fed up with poor leadership and micromanagement and finally realized that engineering, manufacturing, and Corporate America weren’t my passions. My passions were teaching, speaking, coaching, small business and personal finance/debt free living. So, I left the corporate world to found two companies: one to coach clients through the process of eliminating debt and staying debt free, and one to launch an invention that a friend had created. The results? I’ll never work for someone else again! The coaching business is growing rapidly. I’m helping families change their lives and for the first time have control over their money. It’s one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. The invention is gaining popularity and has a huge potential as a money maker. We expect to release the website and full production later this year.”
- Matt Wegner
“In my job with Intel Corp., I traveled around the world, doing technical demonstrations on stage with chairman Andy Grove. I was nervous about speaking and decided to take a comedy class to get over my stage fright. The comedy kind of took off, and I left Intel to pursue my dream. Since then, I’ve performed my 100% clean comedy at the Democratic National Convention, three inaugural events, at the United Nations, etc. (Plus, I just shot a commercial for Apple). Essentially, I live the lifestyle of George Clooney in Up in the Air, except instead of bringing people misery by laying them off, I bring people joy and happiness!”
- Dan Nainan
“I left my steady bi-weekly paycheck and concrete job to open up my own consulting business. Business is booming and we’ve had to hire several people. My firm helps federal agencies and major Fortune 500 companies make their technology accessible for people with disabilities. We hire folks with disabilities with IT/Computer Science backgrounds around the country who telework and audit software, hardware, and websites from our clients. It’s been going and growing great and I’m so glad I made that decision.”
- Dana Marlowe
Do you have a story of how your Backup Plan ROCKED? Share it here!
5 Reasons You’re REALLY still single
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 18, 2010 - 7:02 am
Do you secretly wonder why you’re still single?
Deep down, are you afraid you don’t know how to find, attract, and keep really great guys?
Are you worried YOU might be a failure at love?
Stop right there. Here are five reasons you may still be single. In less than 10 minutes, you may have the answers you’ve been looking for…
And to change your dating future TODAY, sign up for my 8 Week If He’s Not The One, Who Is? TeleClass NOW!
Reason #1: You’re so afraid of getting hurt again that you’re holding your heart hostage
Reason #2: You’re so sick of lackluster dating results that you’d rather give up than try again.
Reason #3: You’re still hung up on your ex, convinced he was The One, and there’s no room for someone new (what a shame!)
Reason #4: Your sense of entitlement is killing your chances of calling in great guys
Reason #5: You don’t have healthy dating skills, a clear idea of who’s right for you, or any idea how to change your dating results
Ready to change your dating future? Sign up for my 8 Week If He’s Not The One, Who Is? TeleClass NOW! Class starts May 18.
It’s not too late to change your dating future!
It’s not to late to call in the love of your life.
Let 2010 be the year you finally break free of what’s holding you back so you can find, attract, and keep the real love deal.
Sign up for my 8 Week If He’s Not The One, Who Is? TeleClass NOW!
Bouncing Back from a Breakup
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on - 6:55 am
I recently stumbled across this in The Breakup Chronicles archive. It’s one of the first stories I wrote when the idea for The Breakup Chronicles first came to me…
You want to know what I do to get over a nasty breakup? I take a trip. Travel abroad. I’ve racked up so many frequent flyer miles at this point, I could go to the moon and back. And that’s okay. Because I haven’t met The One yet. And rather than settle, I go for the breakup. And then I go far, far away. I cry, I sightsee, I fall in love. With myself, that is. Breakups take their toll on our self esteem. But the truth is, I’m all I’ve got. And rather than beat myself up over the end of a relationship, I cherish the fact that I probably learned something along the way.
With my college crush, I learned to make great ravioli from his mother’s recipe. With the bodybuilder, I learned that I actually liked to workout. With the Star Wars fanatic, I realized that nice guys really do exist. With the 22 year-old, I discovered how exciting I could be to another person. And with The One Who Rocked My World, I learned that unconditional love feels unbelievably amazing.
With each new relationship and subsequent breakup, I discover a little bit more about who I really am and what I want out of life. And that’s the girl I fall in love with every time I travel. The fun-loving, creative, adventure-seeking gal who goes to the Greek Islands in hopes of mending her broken heart, who discovers a sense of connection with the universe in the rhythmic lapping of the Mediterranean sea on the shore, and who delights in how the sun dances off the white-washed buildings in the afternoon. She’s also the spontaneously sassy chick who spends six weeks of her summer in Montana; hiking, writing, and going to a rodeo for the first time in decades. If it weren’t for the breakup, she’d never discover these simple pleasures.
One day I hope to travel with my husband. He’ll be handsome and witty and cultured and totally not neurotic. And he’ll love me for being unconventional, passionate, and a little bit nuts. But in the meantime, I’m not waiting for him to live out my dreams. I’m living them out every day on my own. So when he finally does come along, and his front tooth is crooked, or his spelling sucks, or he’s shorter than I’d imagined, I’ll know that’s okay. Because I haven’t been waiting for my life to begin until Mr. Perfect arrives. I’m just looking for someone who’s brave and bold, ordinary and extraordinary enough to join me on the journey. After all, that’s what life’s about. The journey. The messy, imperfect, magnificent, and virtually invent-able journey. And what would that be without a little heartache here and there to let you know you’re really alive and kicking?
Postscript: I love this story because it illustrates the importance of moving on after a breakup, even in the face of doubt and despair. I also love this story because somehow that last paragraph perfectly describes my husband!
The “It” Factor
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 17, 2010 - 6:56 am
I went digging in The Breakup Chronicles archives the other day. Thought you’d enjoy this story of how I discovered that compatibility doesn’t end at the bedroom door…
He said he didn’t want to end up a breakup story. That he didn’t want to become yet another Mr Ex. I told him there were no guarantees. After all, when you date a writer – or an artist of any kind – that’s the gamble you take. That your life story will somehow end up in print, on screen, aka public domain. I’m sure he’ll understand.
Mr. Ex and I met the way many 21st century couples meet – online. We liked what each other had to say about life, love, art. Several emails and phone calls later, we met at a hip coffee shop somewhere in between our neighborhoods. The conversation was easy and our personalities meshed nicely. Even our fashion sense was similar. He complimented my Frieda Kahlo bag. I liked his flame-emblazoned bowling shirt.
And that’s how it started.
On paper, Mr. Ex was perfect for me. Checks in all the right boxes. Employed. Check. Making good money. Check. Creative profession. Double check. Lived alone. Major check. Lived within his means. Took an interest in my career. Liked the same kind of music. Same kind of movies. Believed that chivalry wasn’t dead. Check. Check. Check.
Aside from the checklist, he was easy to talk to. And sweet. And he was emotionally available. Which was a refreshing change from the guys I’d dated who were super cool but unable to commit to anything other than the fear of being hurt, abandoned, rejected.
We had romantic dinners on Friday nights. Saw great documentary films on Saturday afternoons. Went out for sushi in the middle of the week. About two months into the relationship, he offered to whisk me away to wine country for the weekend. It was all very adult. And incredibly liberating. I told myself, This is how it can be when you date your equal.
But here’s the thing – there was no zing.
At first I thought the lack of chemistry during our good night kisses was due to nerves. After all, I was still recovering from The One Who Rocked My World. And I was afraid of being hurt again. But I knew this one wouldn’t hurt me. I knew he’d be good to me. He was in the same place in his life that I was in mine – ready for THE REAL THING. And so I told myself to get over it and jump in with both feet. Which – loosely translated – means I slept with him. I’m still convinced that’s the best way to really know if you’re compatible with someone. It’s just a theory.
Here’s how it happened. After an intoxicating evening of amazing Indian food in a lusty atmosphere, exhilarating conversations about religion, politics, and art, and a comfortable drive back to his place while listening to the hypnotic rhythms from our mutually-favorite radio station, he asked me to come up and see his recently-completed and film-fest-favorite short film. Little did he know that even if he’d just asked me to come upstairs and get it on, I would have.
After said short film, we got it on. One thing led to another, and soon my clothes were on his living room floor, and our activities moved into the bedroom.
Still, no zing.
It’s not that the sex was bad. It wasn’t. He said all the right things, made all the right moves, was totally attentive to my needs. And afterwards, the pillow talk was casual and comfortable. I felt right at home in his bed. And yet I couldn’t wait to get home to my own.
The next day, after conferring with my girlfriends, the consensus was that I should try it again. Sometimes the first time could be awkward, we rationalized. This guy was really cool and I owed it to myself – and him – to further explore our physical chemistry. And so the following weekend, after yet another fabulous evening of fine dining, scintillating conversation, and thought-provoking film, we returned to his bedroom. And once again, it was nice. There were moments that were quite spectacular. And yet afterwards, as we lay next to one another talking, all I could think of was Get me out of here!
That’s when the invitation for a weekend in Wine Country was put on the table. Which made me realize that while there had been no zing for me, Mr. Ex couldn’t wait to zing again. All weekend, maybe. And while the offer was incredibly tempting, the thought of being stuck in a far away destination with Mr. No Zing was more than I could bare.
There’s no good time to tell someone the zing – or “it factor” as my girlfriends call it – isn’t there. But when you’ve investigated all the possibilities and you know it wasn’t nerves or fear or any other self-imposed drama, you have to face facts. And fess up.
In the end, Mr. Ex was very gracious. He asked if he’d done anything wrong, and when I insisted he hadn’t, that it was just the elusive “it factor,” he thanked me, told me he’d really enjoyed our time together, and that was that. Hands down, it was the best (and easiest) breakup ever. And that’s when I realized – without the zing, there’s no sting. And I don’t know about you, but I’ll take a little sting with my zing any day.
How do I get my ex back?
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 16, 2010 - 7:00 am
Be honest. Are you still holding out hope that your ex may one day come back, sweep you off your feet, give you everything you ever wanted, and radically change everything about himself that didn’t work in your relationship? From getting his act together financially to learning how to be emotionally available 24/7 to loudly and proudly proclaiming his love for you to everyone he knows, are you putting your future on hold, praying for a miracle? Have you put in a good effort in your post-breakup recovery, even going so far as to create a cute online dating profile, go out on a few first dates, but deep down, you’re waiting for the phone to ring or your ex to show up on your front door step with flowers and a marriage proposal?
Remember, I said be honest.
The good news is you wouldn’t be the first woman in history to put her fabulous future on hold in hopes that with a little time, distance, and perspective, her ex would magically discover the error of his ways, come running back, and together, they live happily ever after.
The bad news is that while you’re fantasizing about your happily ever after reunion with your ex, he’s moving on without you. He’s dating other women. Even if he’s still calling you.
And yes, even if he’s still sleeping with you.
One of the reasons I wrote my books It’s A Breakup Not A Breakdown: Get over the big one and change your life – for good! and It’s a Breakup, Not a Breakdown Workbook: A 21-Day Action Plan to Plot Your Revenge, Spoil Yourself, and Find Out How Good Your Life Is Without Him is because once upon a time, I was hung up on my ex. I kept sleeping with him — for a year after our final breakup! And guess what? I was miserable. I also scared away from really great guys during that year because I was so emotionally hung up on my ex.
While I have since rewritten my happily ever after story with my husband, I have made it my mission to help single women break free of their death grip on the past and step fearlessly into their unknown futures.
While it’s debatable whether or not men and women are actually from different planets, as John Gray would have us believe, the painful truth is this: Men and women handle breakups differently. Yes, we both mourn in our own way. Yes, we both feel grief, loss, disappointment in our own way. But men can stay connected to their ex throughout their recovery and still move on while women cannot.
And while some couples do part ways, recognize the error of their ways, and reunite to create a brand new healthy, happy future, the more realistic reality is that while you’re snuggling in your ex’s arms after yet another night of late night passion (also known as the post-breakup booty call), he’s still moving on with his life. He’s still making other plans. He’s still dating other people. And while he likes the comfort of falling back into bed with you, he still believes you’re broken up for good because, well, you are.
If any of the above rings true, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re the exception to the rule. If you’re reading this book, you’re looking for answers. And I’m going to give them to you whether you really want to hear them or not.
If the bestselling book and blockbuster movie He’s Just Not That Into You taught us anything, it’s that you’re not the exception. You’re the rule.
Let me clarify that. If you’re still in constant communication with your ex, calling, emailing, texting, enjoying the occasional or frequent reunion between the sheets, stop. This is not a sign you’re getting back together. It’s not even a sign he’s still in love with you. While you may still be madly in love with him, he’s moving on without you. You’re his emotional airbag, providing support and security as he slowly but surely re-enters the dating world. It doesn’t work in reverse. He’s not your airbag. He’s the accident waiting to happen that will destroy you (which is exactly how you’ll feel when you discover he’s dating someone else). The really infuriating part? He’s not even leading you on! You’re leading yourself on.
How? By silently agreeing to stay connected. By giving him your body, thinking he’s giving you his heart. By taking his calls, thinking that means you’re the only woman he’s talking to these days. And even if you are right this minute, who’s to say he won’t meet someone tomorrow, continue to see both of you until things get serious with the other woman, and then one day he’ll show up on your doorstep, hand you a box of things you left at his place, and tell you he’s madly in love with the new lady in his life and they’re engaged. Ouch!
I know disconnecting from your ex isn’t easy. I know it’s scary to let go and walk away from your past when your future hasn’t quite shown up yet.
Here’s the truth. Your future can’t show up if you’re hung up on your past. Plain and simple, give yourself permission to let go of your ex and start moving on, starting today.
For help, pick up my books It’s A Breakup Not A Breakdown: Get over the big one and change your life – for good! and It’s a Breakup, Not a Breakdown Workbook: A 21-Day Action Plan to Plot Your Revenge, Spoil Yourself, and Find Out How Good Your Life Is Without Him.
And share your story with me by leaving a comment on the blog. Good luck and happy healing!
Like A Prayer
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 14, 2010 - 7:00 am
Lately, there have been a lot of requests for those early stories from The Breakup Chronicles. I’ve gone into the archive, dusted off some oldies but goodies, and hope you enjoy!
“I’m getting married next month.”
Even through the crackle of the long distance telephone and the drunkenness of my brain, the words were unmistakable.
“Who is she?” I slurred, no longer caring if he knew I was drunk or not.
“No one you know. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible. Now you’ve been hurt twice…”
Before I could give him the satisfaction of finishing his sentence and ripping my heart wide open, I hung up the phone. And then sat there, listening to the crazy party going on in the next room. My 22nd birthday party. The last birthday I would celebrate in college. And yet I was locked in the bedroom, staring at the phone, wondering why the hell I bothered to call Mr. Ex at all. We hadn’t spoken in over a year, not since he told he was re-enlisting instead of coming home. And now, not only was he not coming home, he was never coming home to me. Ever.
He was my best friend from high school. Sweet, funny, a native of the small California town I’d just moved to. The moment we met, instant connection. Electric personalities lighting up each and every time we saw each other.
He knew everyone. I knew no one. He protected me, took care of me, introduced me to my first love. I helped him with his homework, told him of all the places I’d lived, introduced him to my family.
He held my hand when I fretted about getting into college, was my shoulder to cry on when my high school sweetheart cheated on me, told me he’d always love me. Always. Until today.
How had things gone so horribly wrong? How could he have chosen another woman over me? I had given him everything. Written him letters every week to help him ease the loneliness of that first year in the army, sent him care packages, gone broke trying to pay my phone bill just to hear his voice. And all for nothing. He was never coming home to me.
Backtrack to end of high school. When he confessed his love for me. Said he regretted introducing me to my first love. Wished he’d kept me for himself. I confessed the same. And then he went off to boot camp, and I to college. He worked his ass off, trying to deal with being away from home for the first time, trying to prove his worth in an institution that valued his physique over his mind or faith. As for me, I drowned myself in sea of drunken parties, studied when I could, and lost my identity. Then he came home and saved me. Told me he loved me. That he wanted to marry me. And I believed him.
We spent the next six months writing letters, exchanging phone messages, caught up in an imaginary bliss. It was unrequited love at its finest.
That summer, I visited him. Didn’hurt that he was stationed in Hawaii. But I would have gone anywhere for him. For weeks before my trip, I fantasized about what it would be like to finally consummate our love. And while my trip was lovely, it wasn’t all that. He was distant, different. He’d kiss me, then pull away, touch me, then recoil. And he wouldn’t make love to me, citing his religious beliefs that I’d long known about. I respected his beliefs, but also knew he’d slept with women he didn’t love, so why not me? He said I was different. Because he loved me. I bought it reluctantly, but went home feeling deprived.
During my sophomore year in college, we continued exchanging letters, although we both agreed love was not in the cards for us. Yet every time he returned home on vacation, our platonic visits would turn into heated kisses and caresses, with the promise of more one day.
“Just let me get out of the army. Let me come home and take care of you. Marry you. Our children would be beautiful.”
Again, I believed him.
My junior year, just weeks before my 21st birthday, the phone rang. It was Mr. Ex. My heart beating, I waited to hear the words I’d dreamed of for three years: “I’m coming home.”
Instead, I heard, “I’m re-enlisting.”
Angry, I hung up the phone. For weeks, I refused his calls, didn’t answer his letters, really stuck it to him. And then everything stopped. The phone, the mail, my heart. Boy, I really showed him, didn’t I?
But I never forgot him. He was the one man who knew me better than I knew myself. Who knew my history, and would always love me, even if we didn’t speak for over a year. Which was what led to that phone call the night of my 22nd birthday party. Drunk and lusting, I fended off the advances of my occasional Booty Call to go into my bedroom, lock the door, and make THE CALL. The one that would change my life forever.
“I’m getting married.”
The words hung in the air long after I’d slammed down the phone. How could he do this to me? I’d already been betrayed by love once. And he knew all about that. Now HE was betraying me? Who was she? What did she have that I didn’t? Why would he marry and make love to her when he wouldn’t do either with me? These questions haunted me for months. Quite possibly for years. I thought I was cursed. Unlucky in love for life.
Years later, thanks to the internet, we found one another and re-connected. Exchanged emails and phone calls and finally met in person. He was on his second marriage and fourth child. I was still single, between boyfriends, and still wondering if he was THE ONE. And if so, was I willing to break up his marriage?
Our rendezvous was nothing like I expected. But everything I needed. We met in a public place. Talked for hours. He explained himself. About why he re-enlisted and why he married someone else. And for the first time in my life, I understood. We were never meant to be. In truth, we were polar opposites. Him: devoutly religious, traditional, conservative. Me: unconventional, artistic, experimental. It never would have worked. But it worked during a time in our lives when we both needed someone to love. Even if it was from afar and not fully requited. For me, it was safe at a time in my life when I was afraid of men and not terribly secure in myself. For him, he needed the comfort of home while he was far away from it.
To this day, he remains one of my best friends. We may not speak often, but I know he’s always just a phone call away. He’s even incredibly supportive of The Breakup Chronicles, and when he reads this, I know he’ll agree wholeheartedly about our journey from friends to almost-lovers to friends again.
Since those messy college years, I’ve loved and lost several times, and I’ve survived them all. My life and loves just keep getting better. And I’m better off for having had Mr. Ex in my life, even if it’s not the way my 22 year-old mind had imagined it. In fact, it’s so much better.
The One Who Rocked My World…Revisited
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 13, 2010 - 7:07 am
So many of my new coaching clients have been asking about my Big Breakup. I’m pulling my story out of The Breakup Chronicles archive. Enjoy!
At 30 years of age, I’d never met anyone who rocked my world. Sure, I’d had relationships. Some good, some not so good, but none had ever turned me inside out, shook my core, and affected me the way Mr. Ex did. Now that all is said and done, it’s easy to see we were doomed from the beginning. But it’s also clear that we came into each other’s lives for a reason, and no amount of logic could have talked us out of the two years we took over each other’s lives.
I met Mr. Ex in the community kitchen at my new job. We introduced ourselves and chatted briefly. From then on, he always had a way of showing up just when I was making tea or grabbing lunch. At first I thought these chance encounters were just that: chance. But deep down I knew he was pseudo-stalking me. I didn’t think much of it, given that he was obviously younger than me, and we didn’t seem to have much in common. Still, he was fun to talk to, and I thought he’d be great company over a beer. Imagine my surprise when, three months later, he asked me to lunch. My initial thought was, He’s seen my ass, right? Turns out he had, and he liked what he saw.
Lunch transitioned into a surprisingly romantic dinner the following week, and a delicious makeout session in his truck the week after that. Before I could point out that our five year age difference wasn’t an issue but our difference in life experience was, we were a couple. He was new to relationships in general, had never been in love, and was still very much living the college lifestyle (without the degree) of drinking himself into oblivion and thinking bills were something you paid if you had any cash left over after treating everyone in the bar to a couple rounds. As for me, I was watching all my friends settle down, get married, and start families of their own. And while he wasn’t anywhere near marriage material, Mr. Ex possessed a lot of endearing qualities: he was cute, funny, sweet, and totally dug me. He was everything I had always wanted in a college boyfriend, including a serious drinking problem. Trouble was, I wasn’t in college anymore. Somehow I convinced myself that our differences were not insurmountable, and I jumped in with both feet.
Despite our differences, Mr. Ex and I were good for each other in many ways. He helped me see my own beauty and worth for the first time in my life. I tried to show him what life could be like when you embraced your insecurities and learned to love life. We totally clicked on a chemical level, which not only made the sex amazing, but our intimacy ran deep. However, that chemical reaction wasn’t always positive. When things were good, there were fireworks. But when things were bad, there was nuclear fallout. When we weren’t bringing out the best in each other, we were drudging up the worst. In all fairness, we were both at fault. His moodiness triggered my insecurities. My neurosis affected his feelings of self-worth. In between declarations of love, great sex, and fits of laughter came uncomfortable silences, major misunderstandings, and deepening drama. He was young enough to think this was normal. I was insecure enough to think this was acceptable.
We stayed together for a year, and really tried to make it work. But that’s just it. If you have to try that hard, and it’s still not working, is it worth it? Was I ignoring my need for someone more mature and further on his personal path for a good reason? Was I forcing him to be something or someone he wasn’t ready to be, or could never be? These questions swirled in my head often during that year, a year that saw him working double overtime to placate his demanding boss without additional compensation, which not only left us with little time for each other, but what little time we did have together found him stressed, moody, and drinking behind my back. Then there were the money problems that only surfaced when his dad would call to tell me about them, but when I confronted Mr. Ex, he would shrug and say things were under control.
The truth is, any reasonably self-esteemed woman would have left long before I did. And one day I, too, grew weary of the odds stacked so terribly against us and I ended it. Only nothing in our relationship had been easy so why did I think a breakup would be?
A few months after the initial breakup, we got back together. But truthfully, my heart wasn’t in it. Maybe I was being the guy in the situation, in it for the sex and companionship, all the while knowing it wasn’t right. He wasn’t ready to meet me on my level, and I was no longer interested in sinking to his. Within a few months, when his secretive financial failings once again bubbled to the surface (thanks to dear old Dad) I called it quits for good.
There’s a reason companies have policies against inter-office dating. It’s not that they discourage love and happiness, they just know that breaking up sucks, and having to see your ex on a daily basis sucks even more. But we made the best of it. First we didn’t talk at all. Then we talked all the time. Then we slept together again. And again. And again. And then, almost a year after our initial breakup, we realized we had to stop. For good. No hard feelings. And I mean it when I say no hard feelings. I accept that things didn’t work out, but I also know I had to go through this relationship, not once but twice. I had things to learn. And I’m better for having learned them. I’m a stronger, happier, more self-confident woman because Mr. Ex came into my life.
And speaking of Mr. Ex, I hear he’s getting his act together. I like to think it’s because of me but the truth is, nobody does anything they’re not ready to do for themselves. But I can at least take credit for pointing him in the general direction. And I’m thrilled for him (OK, my emotions are mixed). But one thing’s certain – we came into each other’s lives for a reason. I was there to show him the way. And he was there to love me like I’d never been loved before. And to rock my world. And even tho my heart hasn’t totally healed, I’m thankful we happened. As the saying goes, don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened. And boy, am I smiling.
When Harry Met Sally: Unhappily Ever After
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on April 12, 2010 - 7:00 am
I’m revisiting my breakup past by pulling stories out of The Breakup Chronicles archive.
I love the movie When Harry Met Sally. LOVE it. But I don’t buy the ending. Probably because I lived the real ending. The one that didn’t test well with audiences. The one where they don’t end up together. This is my When Harry Met Sally: Unhappily Ever After.
I met Mr. Ex my freshman year of college. I remember our first conversation in English Comp. He was talking to another girl in the class about his girlfriend back East. They were high school sweethearts, and even though she was thousands of miles away, attending college on the alternate coast, they were staying together. I told him it would never work. He looked at me like I was the biggest bitch he’d ever met. Instantly, we became friends.
I was right. The relationship didn’t last until Christmas. But it was just as well. She was sleeping with somebody else. And he was trying to screw everything in a skirt. Despite his horn dog tendencies, I loved him. We were similar in a lot of ways. Creative, driven, insecure, fun-loving, big drinkers. We bonded over beers, one night stands, and the occasional homework assignment. He was a wonderful writer. It was effortless for him. While I would stay up all night, agonizing over two pages of prose, he would whip something up between classes and it would blow my mind.
He went through girlfriends like I went through a bag of potato chips. He was well-known across our college campus for being outgoing, fun, and a total player unwilling or unable to settle down. And while he knew the name of almost every girl on campus, I was one of the elite few he confided in. Only I knew his insecurities about the future, his financial woes, his family issues. Even most of our friends didn’t know these things. We just had that kind of a connection. And thankfully, we weren’t attracted to each other, so there was no sexual tension between us. Until our senior year.
I chalked it up to Senior Mayhem. That frenzy of feelings and fiascos that occur during senior years in colleges across the country when life is so crazy that you just don’t care about tomorrow. One drunken night we kissed. Then another night it happened again. Then he started kissing me every time he saw me. And spending the night. Or vice versa. It was never much more than a good makeout session. I didn’t want to let it go any further. Yet somehow in the fray, I found myself falling in love with him.
Then we slept together.
And just like that, things changed, just as they had for Harry and Sally. But they changed in different ways for both of us. I found myself head over heels in love with him. As for Mr. Ex, he could only obsess about his disappointing performance. I couldn’t see straight, he couldn’t wait to see the girl next door. Or down the street. Or around the corner.
For the first time in our history, he fell in love with someone else. And broke my heart.
I knew it was for the best. A player like that could never settle down. But he wasn’t supposed to stop being my friend just because of one night, right? And yet that’s what was happening. I was losing him. Fast.
The honest ending to When Harry Met Sally is that Harry never goes to the New Years Eve ball to profess his love for Sally. Instead, he tells his brother that he gave Sally a lousy lay, and his brother, who’s in town for Harry and Sally’s graduation, tries to make it up to Sally by hitting on her. And Sally, in typical high maintenance fashion, throws a drunken temper tantrum in the middle of their last college party in front of the one nice guy she’s met in four years. And the next day, hung over or maybe even still drunk, Harry and Sally graduate from college and never see one another again. And that’s too bad. Because they were the only ones in the big bad city who really knew each other.
The End.
Post Script: Harry and Sally go their separate ways. They fall in love with other people. They live their lives. They have fulfilling careers and drive nice cars and maybe even get married and have children. With other people. But let’s face it. That’s not what audiences want to see. We want the Hollywood ending. We need it. Which is why Harry ditched Mallomars and the Knicks on New Years Eve to chase down Sally. Because it tests well.
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