I had a big blowout with a man in my life last week. 

It’s no a guy I’ve been dating or a guy that I’ve been secretly crushing over. 

It’s one of my guy friends. And a coworker, which makes things more awkward. 

Okay, I’ll admit, when I met him, I did have a crush. He was training at another Gold’s Gym in San Antonio and had come to the gym where I work to visit some of the other trainers. He’s tall, blonde, has a somewhat cocky attitude which is leveled out by his sense of humor. But that crush was over long ago when I got to know him and we became friends. 

Besides he had a girlfriend, and after the incident with the other trainer/coworker that went down when I first moved here, I decided to skip any workplace romance ideas that might have popped into my head.

So, my friend Chris and I, became pretty close. I saw him every day. I went to him with guy problems, asked him for advice. He would vent to me about his girlfriend. We’d joke around about just about anything. We were pretty cool. 

Then I asked him to train me. I know what the next question’s going to be, “Why do you need a trainer if you were a trainer?”

Laziness. And being burnt out and wanting to not be in the gym any longer than I have to after working there nine hours five days each week. 

I have the knowledge, I just needed that extra push. And besides, me and Chris have fun together and I do enjoy his company. It’d be fun, I thought.

So he began working me out two to three times a week, and I didn’t pay him full price for the services, but I did buy him two UFC tickets. It’s a lot more than some of our other friends paid him for training. He’s offered his services for free to about three other people. I didn’t want to take advantage, so we worked out the UFC tix payment method instead. 

So I already know the drill. Gotta stick to the diet plan, no alcohol for a few weeks. Cardio for 45 minutes five days a week. I did it last year, I can do it again.

Me - second from left. October 2008 at 19 percent body fat. After seven months of ZERO drinking - and plenty of going out on the weekends.

So after week one, and one weekend of partying in Austin with my good friend Khanchana, who drove down from Dallas for her boyfriend’s birthday, Chris weighed me in. I was three pounds heavier. Did I mention I was also starting my period? That had to contributed to at least two of those pounds. 

He was upset to say the least. He asked me to please not go to any bars, clubs, or any other place alcohol would be served for at least two weeks, so that I could show him I was sacrificing just as he was. 

I didn’t see the point to this. I know I’m perfectly capable of going out and not drinking. I did it for seven months last year when I was getting ready for the bodybuilding show. Carry around a glass of water all night, and people don’t offer to buy you drinks. When they do, tell them you don’t drink. Or lie and tell them you can’t because you’re taking medication. If they continue insisting, tell them you’ll take a water and that’s that. Pretend to accept the shot purchased for you with that last round and hand it off to your friend. There’s a zillion excuses and ways to not get suckered into drinking.

I can understand him asking me not to drink. I can understand him asking me to not go out during the week, so as to not loose sleep and sacrifice my energy during my workout. But I enjoy going out with my friends and dancing and listening to music if it’s on a Friday or Saturday night. 

So we argued about this, and him, being the close-minded guy he is, was not hearing any of it. 

My friend Chris is somewhat of a homebody. Which is fine. I don’t judge him for that. 

His idea of a fun night is playing Playstation online from the comfort of him home. Or going to Jui-Jitsu class to roll around on the mats every day for two hours. 

So I don’t think he should judge me on my choices in entertainment. 

My idea of fun is working out and going out with my girls on the weekend. He probably thinks I’m a heathen.

He said that he wanted me to have 2 complete weeks of self reflection, because I need to learn how to be self-sufficient and not depend on a man. Granted, he doesn’t know I give him choice details and information about my love life, because he is, after all a man. And he’s going to judge me no matter how cool we are with each other. I don’t fall head-over-heels for every guy I go on a date with. There were a few boys who were for entertainment purposes only…and I’m sure they weren’t sitting at home crying about it. 

I wanted to scream at him, “I asked for physical training, not a mental analysis!!!”

But knowing how stubborn he is, I finally figured the best solution was to give him even less information about my personal life. I can’t change the fact that he’s a boy and in his eyes, I’m a female, and probably a pretty horrible one, at that. I know, sometimes there’s that male – female divide. We will probably never see eye-to-eye on some issues, and we can’t help that. 

So we continued on the next week training, and I went out the next weekend with my girls. No beer – and I know the ins and outs of which alcoholic beverages have close to zero calories, carbs, sugars, etc. I had a few drinks. I deserved it. Even my father, a workaholic, who I speak to every day, will say the same thing to me each Friday. “What are you and your friends doing tonight? You should go out. You deserve it. Just be careful and call a cab if you’re too tipsy to drive.”

Thanks Dad. I think I do, too. And trust me, I will not risk getting a DUI. I have Yellowcab on speed dial just in case.

So Friday night, my girls and I venture out to a bar. And as luck would have it, I run into the guy who works the front desk at the gym. Another one of Chris’s clients, who I’m sure didn’t go through the “stay in for two weeks” probation period. 

Front Desk Boy ratted me out. Chris was livid. We had a lengthy text argument the following Monday. We haven’t talked much the past week. 

I know, Chris meant well. His father passed away a few years ago, and he hit rock bottom. He hit much harder than I did when my mom died. I think, in a way, he’s trying to prevent me from doing the same things he did. I told him that I already hit my rock bottom almost five years ago. I went through my own tough time, and it’s over. I’m not teetering on the edge of sobriety, threatening to jump off at any second. Don’t organize the intervention just yet. 

I think I’m doing okay for myself. I managed to graduate somehow after my mom died my junior year of college…off in Waco while my family was in South Texas. After that, I held a job as a newspaper reporter for three years, with one promotion in there. I did the bodybuilding show last year. I moved off to San Antonio, away from my family, on my own, and changed careers. And I’m doing good in the gym business now. I know I’m not uber successful or rich, but I’m working on it. 

It’s not that serious at this point in my life. 

And if this is about making better choices, I know I don’t always have the best taste in men. I’m not blind to his fact. But seriously, I asked him for workout advice, and had decided to leave the dating advice to my girlfriends. Who I talk to when we’re getting ready to go out dancing…so eff the probation period of solitude and meditating.

And my dating sense is much better than it was the past four years when I dated the leech, the crazy-scary almost abusive control freak, the cheater. Not perfect, but much better than it was. I haven’t met Mr. Right, but each one improves a bit. 

Another one of Chris’s arguments was, “Why take a recovering crack addict to a crack house?” Ummmm, last time I checked. I’ve never been a recovering alcoholic. I don’t even dream of taking a sip of a drink during the weekdays. I don’t get passed out, black out drunk when I go out on the weekends. We have a few drinks once or twice a weekend. That’s all it is. 

I appreciate that he tried to help me, but I really saw it more as a control issue. And yes, I know I shouldn’t have lied. But I’ve realized there are certain people who are not going to listen. I decided to let him think he was in control of the situation, which I realize is probably conniving. But I really didn’t see the big deal.

And maybe part of it was me not wanting a man, any man, to tell me what to do without explaining the full purpose to me. Without making sense. Without a good enough reason. 

I’ll sacrifice the cookies and ice-cream and the homemade Mexican food, but not going out dancing with the girls, even if it is only for two weeks. Besides, doesn’t dancing burn calories? : )

Last weekend I went to watch my cousin’s band play a show in Austin…actually both groups that he’s in were playing that night, so me and my bestie took a little drive to see him. 

It was awkwardness cause that guy I had been dating in Austin, the drummer in his band, who decided he didn’t want a relationship either (what is it with that line?? I’m gonna start using it because apparently it’s very popular right now…) was there with his freakin’ ex girlfriend. The psycho one he had vented to me about so many times. 

I said hi, and it was beautiful because his parents rushed up to me, gave me a hug and asked me how I had been (they’re very supportive, always going to his shows). His friends all hugged me. They’re such fun people and I had missed them so much. 

Not to mention I wore my new little black dress with my new HIGH  heels. “Black Truffles” – even the name of the shoe style makes me smile. 

Truffle shoe www.stevemadden.com

Mr. Drummer Daniel is about a whole one to two inches taller than me, so when I wear my five inch stilletos, I pretty much make him look like Bilbo Baggins. 

When I walked in the venue, and he approached me to say hi and he hugged me, it made me feel so damn good that I was taller than him. Through the months we had dated and hung out, I admit, I invested in quite a few pairs of flats to sport when I’d go out with him. 

But not that night. NO way, I busted out my secret weapon. 

Sure my feet hurt that night, but I knew I looked damn good! And I knew he felt short, which was even better. 

Even his mom complimented my look  

So at the end of the day, he can have psycho girl. She can make his life hell all over again. That fine with me! To hell with him. I don’t have to worry about whether my every single one of my outfits will work with flats anymore.

I’m in the process of buying a condo.

There’s much more paperwork involved than I ever dreamed (and apparently the fact that it’s a condominium, and not a house, just makes it that much more complicated).

I have to say that I’m thrilled and excited.  Not to mention overwhelmed and impatient.  This process started at the end of May, when I made a verbal offer and it was accepted.  The closing date is set for July 24.  I, of course, having very little patience, wanted it done in the first week of June.  Hah.

There’s a little bit of bittersweetness about it too; somehow, I always thought that when I reached the point of buying proprety I’d have someone that I was going to share it with.  That I am doing this by myself makes my single-ness seem that much more permanent.

On the other hand, I have good friends who are just salivating for the chance to help me clean and decorate (bless them!  And I hope their enthusiasm continues, as I will definitely need help).  And, since I’m single, I can decorate my home any which way I want – a situation I do not underestimate, having watched many of my married/involved friends squabble about home decor with their significant others.  Nothing but common sense can stop me from painting my kitchen cupboards pink.

I know that I hadn’t given him all of my heart. Part of it belonged to my firefighter. I wanted to like him, but there was just something holding me back.

The minute the firefighter asked me to be with him, I told myself, without a second thought, that I wasn’t going to communicate with the other guys I had dated anymore. Mr. Flirt included. 

I know that me and Mr. Flirt were just dating, that we never decided that it should be exclusive. It was just awkward more than anything. 

Me and my best friend Naomi were out shopping in San Antonio and decided to grab a bite to eat.

We walked in the restaurant, I saw him in my peripheral vision, and I panicked and rushed out of the restaurant. I don’t know why I panicked, but I seriously did. My hands were shaking and my heart was beating fast. I didn’t cry. I wasn’t sad. I just didn’t want him to see me, seeing him out with another girl. If that makes any sense…which it probably doesn’t. All I know is that I wanted to get the hell out of there before he saw me. 

He didn’t see me, thank goodness. 

I text him about 15 minutes minutes later, asking him what he was up to. I was curious to see what his response would be. Maye he was having lunch with a female friend.

But he lied…said he was working all day and would be out of work about 4 p.m. Not that he needs to explain himself to me, but he still lied. 

I thought, maybe it’s a friend. But after he lied, I figured she was more than a friend. Later we were walking toward a store in that area, and happened to see them leaving, shopping bags in tow. He was smiling and looking at her like he looks at me. It was weird. Maybe it was her birthday, and he takes all of his friends shopping on their birthdays. Who knows….

I didn’t tell him that I saw him. I’ve been avoiding him. I don’t know how to handle the situation. I guess the bottom line is I don’t care enough about him to make a big deal about it. But now I don’t feel gul

Sure, flirting can be harmless, but I think there’s a fine line between innocent flirting and flirting with crossing that line.

The boy who was my birthday date, sent me a friend request on Facebook a few weeks ago. This was before the whole one-week-committed-exclusive-whatever-you-wanna-call-it relationship with my firefighter.

I have to admit, I didn’t go rummaging through his wall posts and photo comments as soon as I accepted the friend request. I didn’t even accept the friend request as soon as I had seen it.

But when I did start browsing through the posts on his profile, it seemed very borderline shady…almost blatantly sexual. It shocked me. Why would this guy add me as a friend knowing that I’d be able to see all of this?

Here’s an example of a conversation with a married woman (okay, I admit, I shared my discoveries with my male coworkers, who happen to know this lady’s husband. They agreed the conversations were questionable…) This one really stuck out to me…

His status on his page: “Looking forward to working out this evening so I can shake off the Monday blues!”

Her response: “I feel ya on that one “

Him: “I’m hittin’ legs today. Think we should call Mike?”

Her: “haha he won’t come.. R u going to DeZavala?”

Him: “I was planning on going to Babcock/Callaghan, but I can re-route.”

Her: “Well today is upper body for me so don’t re-route.. I could use a spot though on bench “

At first I thought, okay so he has a workout partner? What’s the big deal…but then it started getting iffy.

Him: “I got you…I’ll drip sweat on you! I’m kidding…haha! Which location?”

Her: “Only if it smells tropical LOL! DeZavala please”

Him: “HAHAHA! No soft scents for me today, boo. Somebody who doesn’t know me well might get the impression I’m playing for the other team…”

Her: “Well you always did seem to enjoy the ass pats a little too much from your teammates during football LMAO.. J/K J/K So what time you heading that way?”

Him: ”That’s why I don’t play no’ mo’! 5ish.”

Her: “HAHA! See you then sweetness “

Okay, so now that I look back and read it, it doesn’t seem so bad. And besides, that was before me and him were hanging out as much as we had been around the time of my birthday. She even left a comment on his page asking where he had been hiding, so I’d assumed he’d stopped hanging out with her so much.

Then, I nosied my way onto his page again today, and saw recent comments where he told her that she’s “the only one with legs prettier than his,” when he’s always told me I have beautiful legs. And there were pics of him hugging girls, with this hands all over their booties, telling other girls if they apply to work for him there’d be a uniform that he gets to mandate and that they’d be a welcommed distraction.

I admit, there wasn’t anything horrible, but I guess I just felt dumb, like I had fallen for the lines of a typical player/ flirt/ whatever you wanna call him.

Maybe he drops of lunch to other women and does special things for other people. I hadn’t fallen for him, but I told myself, he’s nice, why not give him a shot? He treats you really special….

Well, apparantly not. He treats lots of ladies really special. And that’s fine, do what you do.

And maybe it’s harmless, or maybe he’s just gutsy enough to let me see his page and think I would think nothing of it.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention this one: it’s the icing on the cake. We had gone shopping one day and he came out of the dressing room without his shirt on!! That was pretty much too over-the-top for me. I know he’s got a nice body, but calm down! I know the sales chick told you that you had a nice ass while I was a dressing room away, but get over yourself!

Like my good friend Chris once said, “Until you’re living with a man with a ring on ya’ll’s fingers, it’s a line!” I hope to God that’s not true, but I’ll keep it in mind just in case.

From Art.com

I’m not the type of woman who begs. Nor am I the type of woman to apologize when she knows she’s right.

I’m the type who misses you.

That’s ironic isn’t it? When I think about what happened, I’m furious. It hurts.  Then, I’m sad again.

But I want to call or write. To hear or read your funny jokes. I need to tell you so many things that have happened these past couple of months. But I can’t, my pride is bigger than my missing you.

Pride is evil, I know. But not being able to talk to you and tell you things has helped me more than you know. Although I craved your input, I’ve had to make my own decisions now. Of course when I have, I think about what you would do or say. I guess after all this time, I want you to be proud of me.

Pride definitely is evil. But in this situation, despite how much it’s hurting me, I’m right.

Which makes me wonder…how much is this silence between us hurting you? I’m sure you’ve forgotten my existence. I can’t imagine your heart as heavy as mine. I can’t imagine you sitting on your couch wondering how I’m doing.

See, it’s that realization that lets me know I made the right decision to call it quits. Doesn’t mean I miss you any less or that I don’t wish the best for you.  Because I do. I wish you all the happiness you can handle and just enough unhappiness to make you appreciate what you have.

I miss you. And I suspect I still will until I stop breathing or … until you apologize, which will probably never happen since you’re as stubborn as I am.  

Dammit! I miss you.   And now that’s enough of that.

      This friendship between Chi Chi and Sinister is getting rough! This week we start out at dinner with all of the guys (Flex, 12 Pack, Big Rig, Chi Chi, and Sinister) and of course Ricky. The dinner was a challenge where each guy had to cook a course of the meal. Things went well until Daisy asked her group of man toys who each of them was the most compatible and who was the least compatible with her. Everyone except Chi hi listed him as the least compatible and Flex was voted the most compatible overall. 

The Needy Guy 

So Chi Chi is a little needy. He needs a lot of love. He whines, and he’s a little guy.  Even Sinister stated that Chi Chi was the least compatible for Daisy which then sent Chi Chi running to the bathroom where he hid out CRYING. This is such a waste of your time. It’s like having a toddler in the house. I had a needy boyfriend once. I really want to stress the once. This type of guy is so clingy! You could meet this guy while you are out and all he will do is attach himself to your hip.  If you look really close you can see him planning your future in his mind.  Just throw your drink at him and run away. He probably wants you to spoon him.

The Stable Guy

Flex is truly the most stable guy in the house overall. If he gets mad it’s generally for a good reason. Flex is smart and really funny which will help when things get tough. It’s funny that this should be the guy we all gravitate towards but we never do. He often seems to be almost impossible to find. If he was really that easy then there would be no reason for half of the singles sites out there.  I have been lucky enough to find 2 of those in my life. I married both of them. Every asshole you meet and fall for tries his hardest to be this guy. At least they try to be in your eyes. Guys generally have a game plan when they go out looking for their next conquest. This guy is totally relaxed about it. If some guy hits on you he wouldn’t just beat the crap out of him. He would be a gentleman first THEN smash his face in. This guy has a regular job that pays his bills. If you are lucky he makes enough to pay yours also which will be important if you want to get married and have babies

 You might ask where 12 Pack comes in. Well he has now requested that Daisy call him “Dave” because I guess that’s his name. After dinner everyone is hanging out by the fire. Daisy ends up in her bedroom kissing and talking with “Dave” and Sinister gets all bent out of shape because he wanted to play tonsil hockey with her. So Sinister throws a huge tantrum and eventually makes Daisy cry. Wow what an idiot.  

The Immature Guy

Sinister is so the immature guy who still hangs out with his best friend everyday and basically just acts like a kid all the time.  When Sinister has gotten upset he doesn’t communicate his problem like an adult he yells, bangs on things, slams doors shut multiple times, and acts like a child. Well guess what. That is exactly what he will act like if he doesn’t get his own way in life. No wonder he and Chi Chi get along so well. This guy never keeps a steady job for long. He hangs out on the couch with his buddies all day long eating all the food you cooked and no he will not clean up his mess. Want to avoid all of that? You can gauge this guy by his sense of humor. If he laughs at middle school level humor then that’s how you spot him. He will never discuss the lack of civil rights in Iran or whether or not health care should be socialized. 

Flex won the challenge at dinner and won a date with Daisy the next day.  They learned a little archery which I thought was pretty cool. It went well and Flex had a very good conversation with Daisy. Unfortunately for Daisy She had to go on a date with Chi Chi and Big Rig the next day. Big Rig copped this attitude with Chi Chi and came off as being a little overly aggressive and maybe violent. Chi Chi just spoke in his quiet little way about how he was there for Daisy and how he only wanted to be there for her.  Ugh! I want this friendship issue over with!   

The Guy Who Throws Things When He Gets Mad

So Big Rig has thrown a few things when he has gotten angry. I am in no way condoning that behavior. I think that in the last two episodes we have seen how well Big Rig handles pressure. I would much rather handle someone who hits a wall as opposed to a person but obviously he needs to find another outlet for his anger. I think that Big Rig is more in control than Cage was. If you want to avoid this guy then just avoid guys who have a lot of drama in their life. I think that when there is just so much drama and a person is pushed to extreme limits of anger and frustration all the time this becomes the way they handle every stressful situation.  This guy will beat the shit out of some guy who hits on you in a bar. Be very careful about what you communicate to this guy. You don’t want to give him a reason to go to jail for fighting or maybe even something more serious 

Ultimately Big Rig went home this week. I can agree with that decision. Daisy just didn’t love him. Big Rig cried which was unfortunate and quite frankly very unattractive.  Next week there is a special guest returning. I think its Fox but we will see…. Love you all! 

XOXO

More than six months ago, when I first went out with my Firefighter, after hinting at him for four months that I was interested, I was so happy. We had so much fun. I thought, “Finally, this is going to happen.” That was the beginning of a horrible, waste of time, not even real relationship. 

Then, the next day, he told me he didn’t want a relationship. My hopes for a chance between us were crushed. I felt like an idiot for thinking that he was just a shy guy playing hard to get. He just plain didn’t want me. 

Then, the next six months were a roller coaster of ups and downs. I dated other people, but I wanted him. 

Last week, when he confessed that he had dated and slept with another girl, and begged me to give him a chance, and cried on my shoulder, I thought, “Maybe now he’ll appreciate me after dealing with this psycho girl. Finally.”

We were finally in a committed relationship. 

Last night, I already caught him lying to me. 

He blew me off after I got out of work. I had invited him to dinner via text, and he never responded. Being a guy who always has his phone on him, I knew something was wrong. But not wanting to be a “crazy chick,” I waited for him to call me back. He never did. 

So a few hours later, I called him. No answer. I knew, deep down, like I have in all of my past relationships that have gone bad, that something was wrong. 

This next part is very humiliating, and I’m mad at myself for even stooping to this level. When this guy was freaking begging me to be with him, he told me, “Amanda, if you don’t trust me, you can call me every night. You can pop by my house whenever you want. I don’t care. I will never lie to you again.”

So I did what he said and drove by his house…I know! So juvenile. So psychotic. Such a waste of time. But I did it. I passed by once, and noticed that his truck was there, but his car wasn’t. I called again, and it rang twice then went straight to voicemail. I couldn’t believe that mother effer hit the ignore button on me!

He finally called me about 30 minutes later, and lied through his teeth to me for 20 minutes straight. “I was at the car wash in my truck. Before that I was in the garage putting together my lawnmower.” 

And the best one, “I’m not a liar Amanda. I don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

It was like reliving the nightmare of my cheating college boyfriend who was so good at lying to me and making me feel crazy and paranoid.

After calmly waiting for him to tell me the truth, I was so mad that he thought I was dumb enough to believe his crap. I asked him to please tell me the truth, that I was the last person in the world who would judge him – which he shoulda known after I took him back. So, even though I knew I shouldn’t have, I finally told him how I knew he was lying. I wanted him to feel like a jerk for lying to me, and I wanted him to know that I knew for a fact that he was lying. 

He went silent after I told him I had seen his truck in the driveway. His tell-tale giveaway that he’s been caught. 

He admitted he “had been at the mall” with his “friend Jenna who was having a crisis about her boyfriend.” I didn’t even hear the rest. Every word that came out of his mouth after that was trash to me. 

I told him I was done. 

I felt like that same idiot I did in January after the first night we hung out and then he turned around and told me he didn’t want a relationship. 

He went from asking me to move with him to California a week ago, to not wanting to rush into calling me his girlfriend because of his F-up to lying to me and avoiding me. What the hell is that about? And my dumbass even considered moving away with him in a few months. I thought my dreams of one day moving to California were going to happen sooner than I thought, and with a man I’m in love with. And now this. How quickly it unravelled. 

This entire year, I’ve been giving him chances, and wondering what it would be that would finally be the final straw. That was it. Me not trusting him to the point where I felt that I had to drive by his house. I did that with my ex when I was younger, and it was so dumb and such a waste of time. I told my firefighter that I was done. I cried this morning, but by noon I was better. When I got to work, with no makeup on and my eyes swollen, a cute boy buying a protein shake even told me I looked pretty. It made my day. And my coworker Belinda and send her 7-year-old son into my office with three beautiful flowers for me later in the afternoon after I told her what had happened. Which was the brightest highlight of my day. It literally brought tears to my eyes. Happy tears instead of angry, frustrated sad tears.

Who needs that stupid jerk anyway? I sure as hell don’t.

If anyone should ask me out, or attempt to get my phone number, I am to now tell them that “I’m dating someone.” And my new “guy friend who I’m dating” said he’ll do the same.

I guess the lack of being known as somebody’s “boyfriend” makes a relationship less intimidating for some guys. Or is a cop-out so that they don’t have all the responsibilities of a boyfriend?

I’d always heard that men were scared of marriage…of committing for a lifetime…and just my luck: I’ve come across a guy who won’t even call me his girlfriend…this may the first signs of a serious committment issue.

Or, it could be that titles are overrated and juvenile. If we are exclusively dating, and enjoy each other’s company and people know we are dating, why bother clarifying what this guy is to me with a specific label?

If anyone is wondering, this boy I’m talking about is my mysterious firefighter guy that I’ve been pursuing since January. Just when I’d about given up on him…a series of events this past weekend led to the words, “I think we need committment,” and  “Do you want to be with me?” coming out of his mouth.

I was ecstatic.

But as it’s always been with him, getting to that point was a roller coaster ride of emotions.

I celebrated my birthday a few weekends ago. The month leading up to my birthday I had been blowing him off. I had finally given up on him. My heart hadn’t, of course, but I had gotten up to the point where my brain was speaking louder than my emotions.

Celebrating my 26th birthday, sans my firefighter.

He claimed that some personal stuff had been going on in his life, and that he needed time and space. He continued to contact me, almost every day, but I finally stopped reaching out to him. I told him I’d give him his space. I was tired of chasing him.

I continued dating other guys, as I had been, and one in particular who had been doing a great job making me feel really special, even accompanied me to my birthday celebration. I didn’t even invite Mr. Firefighter. I felt so proud of myself that I had avoided his rejection of not coming to my party by not even extending an invite. Why even give him the chance to let me down? I was finally learning…. 

That weekend, Firefigher Man had text me to wish me a happy  birthday, and I told him about my celebration after the fact. I jokingly asked him what he had gotten me for my birthday, and he responded that he wanted to take me to dinner. We set a date for Thursday at P.F. Chang’s.

Thursday came along, and being the huge Lakers fan I am, I asked him if we could go to a sports bar instead so that we could watch the NBA Finals. We went eat wings, watched part of the game and he intived me back to his new house that he  finally moved into about a month ago. It was my first time over there. I was excited and nervous. I almost didn’t want to see the house in a weird way, to make it one less thing we shared. He had driven me by to see it when he was considering buying it months before, but I had never been inside.

We watched the end of the game, and as always, I was so happy to spend time with him, and he asked me to stay the night. The next morning, I asked him why he had changed his number a few days before.

He had set up the changing-the-phone-number-thing nicely. He accompanied me to Starbucks on my work break the Monday after my birthday weekend, and mentioned how annoying telemarketer calls are, and that he wanted to just change his number. I thought it was strange, but didn’t ask questions.

Like I said earlier, I was too tired to try and figure this boy out anymore.

But as we were lying in his bed in his new home Friday morning, I decided to ask once again.

“Why did you change your number?” I asked.

Silence.

“Ummm….?” I thought maybe he hadn’t heard me, even though deep down I knew he had.

“I already told you,” was his response.

“Oh ya, right. So did you call that 1 – 800 number to block your new number from the telemarketer lists?” I asked in a nonchalant, conversational way.

“Nah. I still need to do that. But there’s more to it than that…” he responded. I knew he felt guilty about something.

“Like what? What is going on with you that is so important that you’re trying to look out for me and not get me involved?” I asked.

The week earlier, I had asked him if he had gotten someone pregnant, because that’s what our previous conversations about him needing space seemed to indicate to me. He said that wasn’t it.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

This time I was the one to respond with silence. I was late for work, so I decided to get my lovestruck butt out of his arms and out of his bed and back to reality.

He asked where I was going, asked why I was rushing out and told me I looked sad. I said I was tired and running late, that I had to go.

He was being very affectionate with me, the night before and that morning…even when he walked me to my car. Putting his hand on my face and kissing me goodbye. Another indication that something was askew.

As I was driving home, I called him in my last effort attempt to figure out what was going on. He told me, “If I tell you, you’ll never talk to me again.”

My heart sank. I hadn’t felt this kind of pain since my ex-boyfriend from college broke my heart. I assumed my pregnancy theory was correct. My stomach knotted up and my chest got tight. The tears were streaming down my face and I couldn’t breathe.

“Are you f**king serious? You got somebody pregnant?!!!” I cried into the phone.

He begged me to listen and asked me to please drive back to his house, which I did. He said he wanted to talk to me in person and I wanted to know what was going on.

After getting back to his house, he basically told me that he had been dating someone else, tried to call it off with her, she went crazy/ psycho/ stalker and he had to change his number.

She had knocked down the door to his apartment where he lived before he moved into the new house, had made multiple harrassing phone calls to him late at night when she was drunk, and even had other guys call him and threaten him.

I’m sure that’s not the whole story. Maybe she did get pregnant, and he had to get her an abortion. Maybe that’s why she went crazy when he tried to call it off. I guess I’ll never know.

He begged me to forgive him. He said it would never happen again, but he understood if I never wanted to see him again. He said he knew I was good to him and that he had a good thing with me.

Little did he know that I wasn’t sitting at home waiting around for him all these months before. I told him that we were never in a relationship officially, so I had no right to be mad at him, even though it did hurt to hear that. He said he still shouldn’t have done that and that he wants to be committed.

I told him that I had been dating another guy (I figured I’d let him feel guilty, I didn’t tell him I had been on more than one date, with more than one guy, and had gotten semi-serious with one of them during this whole thing).

After this long conversation and many tears, he asked me to be with him. I said yes. I thought, maybe he’ll appreciate me know after seeing what kind of trainwreck people are out there.

I haven’t told my other guy friends that I’ve been dating that I’m in an exclusive relationship yet. I’m scared he’s going to back out.

Don’t get me wrong, his behaviour has been pleasantly different. He’s not trying to hide things anymore. He comes into my office at work to say hello and talk with me, even in front of my coworkers, who are his friends. Before it was so hush-hush, nobody can find out about us.

I’m still analyzing what I want to do and how I’m going to handle this.

Whatever I do, I need to decide by July 10, when I’m set to go to London to visit my London boy. I have a girl friend over there that I can stay with and I’ve been dying to visit for two years, so I’m going on my trip regardless, but I may not see Mr. English Soccer Player.