14 October 2008

It's been a year already?

Damn. Time flies and all that. One year ago, The Boy I Currently Like and I met. It doesn't seem like it's been a year. Or maybe it does. I'm not even really sure what a year feels like anymore.

Quite frankly, it was about damn time. We'd struck up an e-mail correspondence several months earlier. After a while it started to seem a little bit inevitable that we'd meet. He's got some ... quirks that made me at least try to sit back and be patient and let him ask when he was ready. However, my impatience did get the better of me and I scrounged up all my courage in the face of my nearly crippling fear of rejection and I asked. His response? "Honestly, what were you waiting for?" Fucker.

Looking back now, it does seem pretty silly that I was so worried about whether he'd say yes or not. But it's hard to see that stuff when you're in the midst of it.

I'd refrained from mentioning him here because he used to read this blog and OMG, what if he realized I was talking about him? Also, one of the first things he ever mentioned to me was that my personal, confessional style of blogging had a tendency to make him uncomfortable. He managed to get over that for quite a while, though. But of course, once I'd done the big, scary asking-him-out thing, in addition to being all, "What took you so long?" he was also all, "I'm going to go check your blog now to see if I've finally made it in there."

But I waited. So he was apparently okay with me writing about him. I wasn't so sure if I was. I finally broke down and wrote a thinly-veiled hypothetical scenario. I couldn't contain it any longer. I was getting nervous and had to get it out somewhere.

Wouldn't you know it -- that post unleashed a whole load of Crazypants I had no idea existed. There were comments. There were e-mails. There were 15 visits a day showing up in my site stat tracker (that had actually been going on for quite a while ... suddenly I had an explanation). The whole situation completely freaked me out. I very nearly called the whole thing off. I agonized and asked friends for advice. As if it wasn't bad enough to have the nervousness of meeting for the first time -- and wondering if we'll get along, if we'll have anything to talk about, if I'll think he's cute -- I had to worry about feeling like some sort of virtual homewrecker, despite the fact that there was no home to be wrecked.

In the end, I didn't call it off and I didn't tell him about the e-mails until several days later. Turns out he'd been wondering whether to talk to me about it, too, since he'd gotten some e-mails as well. I actually knew this because one of them was included in an e-mail to me. Hey thanks. I got more of the story and we both thought that was that.

That wasn't it. Not by a long shot. There were more comments. More e-mails. More days of multiple visits showing up on the stat tracker. Blog posts. It went on for months. I tried so hard to ignore it, but here's the funny thing: when someone is obsessed with you, you end up getting a little obsessed with their obsession. And it ain't fun. It stressed me out. It made me a little crazy. It really upset me sometimes. I wanted to write about it here, but that would have only fueled the fire. The worst part about it was that I never should have been pulled into the scrum in the first place. It was between the two of them. I couldn't provide any closure and I certainly didn't want to be friends with someone who caused me so much fucking unnecessary grief.

Honestly, I'm not even sure it's over now. The visits seem to have stopped, but I don't see everyone who reads on Bloglines or Google Reader. Finally mentioning it now might unleash a whole new shitstorm. I really hope not. Lord knows we both had to deal with plenty of other shit in the last year. He found out his job was going to be eliminated right before we met. About two weeks after he started his new job, I got the ol' heave-ho from mine. I've only recently started settling into my second job of the year and he just moved. Fucking life changes. Jesus.

Over the last year, I've also gotten past worry about the artificial timetables people set. Friends mean well, but not everyone does everything on the same schedule. So we're moving super slow, big deal. It works for me. I worry about losing myself, but that's not a concern for me now. Yeah, I've got my own issues. Who fucking doesn't? I liked my life the way it was before I met him -- doing my own thing on my own schedule and my own terms. And that's still how it is. I like that.

We have fun. He's turning me into a nerd. Well, more of a nerd than I already was. I try to get him hip to what the kids are listening to these days. We can watch Tom & Jerry together. We've yet to have a big fight. Well, we have lots of big fights in my head. He's never actually been involved in any of those. I've had to learn to be more patient and understanding. That's good for me. He seems to be making little changes here and there that quite frankly have freaked me out a bit. In a good way, though. I think. All of these things seem to be good, but what the fuck do I know? I suck at this stuff.

I still can't believe this all started with me clicking a link at Deadspin more than two years ago. Yay for the internet tubes.


Muffy Willowbrook said...

A year is a milestone....good for you guys.

And boo hiss on crazy obsessed people.

Jess said...

Yeah, I suppose it is a milestone. Doesn't feel like a big deal or anything, though. I'm mostly impressed with myself for not having completely fucked everything up yet. I rule!

And I agree about the crazy people

Anonymous said...

Patience is really a virtue. REALLY!! it is something I have also learned over time. I need to do things when I am ready, not when my friends are ready!


Jess said...

I always think of Mrs. Duffy, my high school art teacher when I hear "Patience is a virtue." She often said, Patience is a virtue; practice if you can. Always in a woman, never in a man.

And I'm by no means saying I'm totally patient now, because I'm not at all. It's definitely a work-in-progress.