August 23rd, 1982
August 23rd, 1982
Right on schedule, the relationship with Joe begins to fall apart. 2 months and Bingo! An alarm goes off which means “Time’s Up”. We’ve not discussed the situation, but my growing frustration at not being more intrigued by him must have been conveyed. More and more I realize what a transparent personality I have. Yesterday, I was tense and aloof with him. He was very quiet. He went to an AA meeting with me and then we went to a movie. He spent the night. I’m an absolute iceberg. Not even an affectionate hug. This morning he was stonily silent. I left him at the subway and he was definitely not a happy man.
□ God! I’m so sick of how you annihilate the people who come into your life. Joe is everything you say you’ve always wanted— that good ole boy— basic, unsophisticated— unpretentious. You treat him like a boob and—
□ □ Oh shut up! I treat him like a boob because he is a boob— and if you think for one minute, darling, that I’m going to saddle myself into a relationship with some goofus dishwasher YOU ARE CRAZY! I haven’t dragged us through the past decade, cross country from Springfield, Missouri to Greenwich Village to commit my life and my heart to some sad sack loser of a dishwasher!
<Silence>
Well, Miss Thing, you’re certainly having your way tonight, aren’t you?
This is the part of me that demands, relentlessly insits of romance and passion and glamour and excitement. This is the part of me that WILL NOT allow me to settle for less than my deepest fantasies.
This is the part of me that keeps me from having relationships. Nobody will ever really meet all these MGM movie epic requirements.
Look, this also does not erase the fact that Joe is a wonderful man! God what a pleasure to be with someone whose good humor and joy is so uncomplicated and genuine. And his true love for animals and his warmth and sincerity are rare and marvelous qualities.
I don’t see why you both can’t have your way.
You, Miss Polyana, can feel free to see Joe as often as you like— and to enjoy and celebrate all those qualities which you find so endearing— homemade dinners and television and kissing dogs.
And, you Miss Thing, have carte blanche to pursue your life of Passion and Glory to your heart’s delight— become a Broadway Star! Follow swarthy dark Arabs into dark alleys—
Both of you have full and complete permission to do whatever you want.
Late night phone call from Joe. I explain that in my romantic excitement at meeting him, I had neglected to pay attention to that part of me that needs more breathing space— more blank time. And that, we need to see less of each other. He doesn’t totally understand. And his feelings are hurt— but I haven’t lost him. Or me.
I’m so proud of myself for figuring this out. For listening to my voices and expressing my needs in a loving, healthy way.
