"Why Choose Unhappiness"

My friend Torn, says this quite often. Perhaps it works for him.

I believe unhappiness is something to be experienced, just like any other emotion. Sorrow, pain, fear, resentment... all negative feelings, but they have a purpose. Whether or not we learn from them, now that's another story.

Let me tell you about another friend I saw this summer. Do you remember Dream Guy? My first kiss was with him. Jennifer lost her virginity with him and spread rumors about him.

Somehow, he and I stayed in touch throughout all these years. I was madly in love with him for several of them. Or at least I thought I was.

Let me back up. After Dream Guy left for school, I met someone else. Jesse lived in a different town, but I saw him fairly often. He was my first real boyfriend, and we were together until the first year or so of university. He and I were great friends, loved being around each other, and made each other laugh. He was one of those guys that was almost gawky; all arms and legs, but you could see the handsome man he was going to become. I was awkward as well, and when it came to sex, we sure liked kissing, but we didn't do much more than fumble around when it got to more detailed contact.

When I was 19, I realized I was in love with him. Here, I just went to find my journal (What, you thought this blog was it? Journals are things we kept before blogs).

"September 29, 1983

I love Jesse. It's a fact, revelation, glory, wonder, It's terrific. I need to touch him, to have him touch me. I want him so much. I can't wait three weeks to see him again."

However, all was not well. My next journal entry,

"October 18, 1983

I can't believe what I wrote less than a month ago. Jesse thinks he's gay and it's all over with us. I just want to cry forever. We were going to have a wonderful weekend together. We were going to have a wonderful life together. We were going to make love for the first time."

Okay, so that relationship didn't go the way I'd hoped.

Back to Dream Guy. He was back in town on and off. He always made an effort to see me, but was usually late or could only stay a minute. He was charming, so I always let it go. I hadn't forgotten that kiss at my front door either. Dream Guy was different from Jesse in almost every way.

He made me uncomfortable, but in an exciting way. He listened intently to me, the few times he actually gave me his attention. I loved the smell of him. You know how that works? How someone's scent, if you care about them, can be the sexiest thing in the world? Wow. He knocked me off my feet.

Passion.

For the first time in my life, I knew what passion was. I really liked Jesse, but I didn't feel passion for him. At the same time, I didn't know it was missing, because I had never felt it before.

So, a couple years go by, Dream Guy comes home one weekend, and we end up in bed. It was great, until we talked about it several weeks later,

"Do you know how drunk I was that night, Becky?"

Not really what a girl wants to hear.

I carried a big torch for him, he noticed me when he was home, and had his girlfriends and his life elsewhere. At one point, I was willing to quit school and move to San Francisco, just to be near him, just to see if it would work out. God. What a ding bat I was.

But no, I stayed in school, graduated, and a few years later, moved to Japan.

Still, in the back of my heart, was a little fire I kept burning for him. Don't ask me why. I don't have a good reason. He hurt me many many times, yet still I slept with him when ever the chance came up, thinking maybe... maybe.... this time it will work out.

It never did.

So, all this background for my post today.

Before this summer, the last time I saw Dream Guy was at his wedding seven years ago. He has three kids and a mini-van now. We talk on the phone maybe three or four times a year, but the conversations have become stilted. Dream Guy is going through a mid-life crisis. He has always turned to me for an ego boost... which I'm no longer willing to give him. I don't want to talk about the past. He picked someone else, so don't talk to me about our history.

But yes, until this summer, there was always this bitterness that he hadn't picked me. I could never ask him why. Of course not. So if the bitterness existed, then I must still have had feelings for him, right?
Well, yeah.

So, Dream Guy calls, says he and family are going to be in Santa Barbara in a couple of weeks. There's going to be a barbecue at Sam's (a mutual friend's) house, that Saturday, and could I be there?

Sure. No problem.

The Thursday before he and his are supposed to arrive, I get a frantic phone call from him. They are on the road, but haven't been able to find a hotel to stay in in Santa Barbara.

Okay, wait a minute. This is July, in Santa Barbara we're talking about, right? And he grew up here, right? Who the hell waits until two days before to make reservations? And traveling with three small children, it's not like they can all just sleep on the couch at a friend's house.

I try to help him out, give him Katrina's number (she's a travel agent) and wish him luck.

Next day, another call.

"Hey Beck, we're not coming in tonight after all, we'll be coming in tomorrow instead. And, uh, the barbecue's not going to work out, so we'll go to dinner at a restaurant instead."

"Uh, okay. Did you call Katrina?"

"No, but we'll find something."

"You still don't have a place?"

"It'll work out, you'll see."

At this point I'm actually saying out loud to the Dog Wonder, "I am so glad I'm not his wife right now."

Saturday, I get another call.
"Well Beck, dinner's not going to work out tonight after all. But tomorrow, tomorrow for sure. We'll go to Pascucci's in Goleta. Around 6:30 or so. Okay? I'll call you tomorrow when everything is definite."

God.

So, Sunday comes. No phone call. At 5 pm, I start fidgeting. At 6 pm, I call and leave a message on Dream Guy's cell phone. At 6:45, I leave a message on Dream Guy's wife's cell phone.

At 8:30 I eat a sandwich. At 10:30 I go to bed.

Monday afternoon, I get a phone call:

"Oh Beck, I'm so sorry. I totally flaked. I apologize. Blah blah blah...."

You can surely imagine my displeasure, which I expressed to him clearly.

So, coming full circle. "Why choose unhappiness?"

I didn't choose it in this circumstance. I was unhappy with how things turned out. However, I'm actually glad it happened.

See, for the first time, I can say, without reservations, that I'm happy I didn't end up with Dream Guy.

And besides, behavior like his makes me appreciate all the more my true friends. So see?

Unhappiness has a purpose.