The Force Wasn’t With Us
Submitted by Lisa Steadman on February 22, 2011 - 6:31 am
Here’s another story I pulled out of The Breakup Chronicles archives.
In 2004, I launched The Breakup Chronicles because I’d just had my heart smashed to smithereens for the umpteenth time and needed to figure out why I was getting love so wrong, so consistently. The common denominator was most definitely me. In writing about some of my key relationships, I needed to figure out what I did wrong, how I contributed to the demise of each one, and what I could give thanks for as a result of having loved someone, even if it wasn’t forever.
Since then, I’ve met and married the Love of My Life, written 5 books about breakups, dating, and relationships, and love helping women discover their unique Love Brand.
Enjoy this oldie but goodie from The Breakup Chronicles…
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.
3 Comments»
April 29, 2010 at 11:14 am
Lisa–
Here is a point by point rebuttal of what you have written about me and our relationship. Do with it what you will (probably delete it–wouldn’t want to tarnish the guru image) but I feel it is necessary to set the record straight from my point of view. Perhaps if you’re going to slag someone off you should get the facts right. As for me, I believe that anyone who self proclaims themselves as an expert needs help. Perhaps you’re protecting my anonymity, but I’m proudly Asian and not Hispanic.
The memory of my ex-wife leaving was much more of a problem for you than it was for me–you were threatened by her ghost and even feared a good friend of yours because she reminded you of a woman you had never met. When you asked me what the best time of my life was, I stated it was my time in college–I didn’t realize it was a quiz requiring the correct answer of “every moment with you, darling.” As I remember, at the time your career was nowhere near taking off–while I had a steady job you were bitching about working for a non-profit, then didn’t even appreciate the gesture when I brought over a bottle of champagne when you finally had the guts to quit.
If you didn’t want to marry me, why waste both our times? You didn’t bring much to the apartment–or much to the relationship. You used to say I needed my own personal time and gladly gave it to me while you obsessed over your latest project.
I would pout if I had to do laundry twice in a row–because it’s called fairness and equal distribution of responsibility. I guess you signed up to be treated like the princess you were in your own mind. I would have gladly participated in any non-Star Wars related activities if you had come up with anything of your own–which you didn’t.
If you remember, the fight we had when we broke up was because you were upset about your writing partner–nothing to do directly with me. However, it was a crisis and I should have been supportive and helped you through it. What you probably don’t remember is that every few days was a crisis with you–about your career, your living situation, your parents, the woman who called you a fat bitch in the parking lot, ad nauseum. You were a drama queen with a capital Q. As far as you leaving, you may have initiated it but I’m pretty sure it was a mutual decision–I had about enough of the drama myself.
I don’t know what you’ve heard about me getting more into my collection–but it is not the thing that dominates my life. My friends are what keep me happy, and they readily accept me whether I have Star Wars figures on my wall or not–and they’re not leaving.
In typical fashion, this is a self serving rose colored glasses view of the fact that the guy is to blame–it couldn’t possibly be your own neuroses, neediness, or demanding nature that could have contributed in any way to the demise of the relationship. I’m not saying I didn’t have issues and problems that were detrimental to the relationship–but a relationship is a two-way street–except in your world. The Force is still with me–but you abandoned it a long time ago.
Michael
April 29, 2010 at 12:10 pm
Michael,
Thank you so much for your thoughtful, heartfelt, and vivid recollection of our relationship. And for weighing in here. While you may think I don’t care what you have to say, I genuinely do.
You are absolutely right. There ARE 2 sides to every story.
And you’re also right in that when we were together, I was a big, fat drama queen with a Capital Q.
It’s called me being 25.
And while I still have my dramatic moments, they’re tempered with a more even keel sensibility honed over years of experience, failure, success, and lessons learned.
As for your ex wife, you are right again. That really was a freakish sore spot for me. While I’m still prone to jealousy on occasion, I am happy to report I’m working on it, and accept myself for my imperfections.
Regardless, you’re right. I almost didn’t give my dear friend a chance because of it. I’m so glad I did. She’s been a true blue friend for over 10 years now. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her.
To be clear, my goal with The Breakup Chronicles was never to be one sided or looking through rose-colored glasses. Nor was it ever to male bash. In fact, you’re not the first ex I’ve heard from. And I always welcome the other side of the story. Even when the truth stings. I’m humbled by your response and have sat with it, let it sunk in, and appreciate the truth as it comes back to us both.
To another of your points, I do believe in taking personal responsibility for my own actions and contributions to every relationship. That’s why I started The Breakup Chronicles in 2004. Because I’d just had my heart smashed to smithereens and needed to figure out why I was getting love so wrong, so consistently.
The common denominator was most definitely me.
In writing about some of my key relationships, I needed to figure out what I did wrong, how I contributed to the demise of each one, and what I could give thanks for as a result of having loved someone, even if it wasn’t forever.
I’m glad the force is still with you. That’s as it should be.
April 29, 2010 at 1:05 pm
Lisa–
I appreciate your considered response to my response–it does seem like you’ve grown and changed for the better. I didn’t mean to be overly harsh, however I do feel it was important to get my side out there, warts and all. I’m glad you are doing well and that we have both moved on and grown. I hope that we can still be amicable whenever we see each other, as will inevitably happen due to our mutual friends. I still stand by what I said, as I’m sure you do for yourself as well–I imagine the truth lies somewhere in the middle. Good luck in the future–
Michael
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