Self Help

Repeat Offenders

When things fell apart with Jake, my life at highschool was hell. After destroying almost all of my relationships with my close friends, I didn't feel like I had anywhere to turn. I would eat my lunch alone in the cafeteria and then head to the library to work on my school work.  Sometimes I would skip lunch all together because I constantly felt sick, like a big stone of sadness was sitting in my stomach. I felt invisible, like I'd been completely forgotten by the world that existed outside my Jake bubble.

The most confusing part about the fallout with Jake was that my beliefs about love had been completely shaken. Everything that I thought I'd known, and all the ideals of what I'd expected love to be like, had been flipped on their head. It wasn't until much later in my life that I'd learn that this was because what Jake had shown me wasn't love at all. It's was pretty confusing for me that Jake was the only person (outside my own family) who had ever told me that they loved me, yet the way he treated me was so opposite from the patience and respect I'd been shown in the rest of my relationships.

I was truly at a loss.

So I did what felt natural - I returned to my familiar pattern of desperately seeking a relationship.

I set my sights on one of my best guy friends, Nathan. We'd known each other since ninth grade when we met in music class. He was sweet and wholesome, with Abercrombie model type good looks, and he was completely clueless. I'd already spent way too much time trying to land Nathan as my boyfriend, as I usually went back to him after every failed relationship.

We'd first "dated" for a week in ninth grade, when I'd dutifully gone to his hockey games and traded him shy kisses for every goal he defended as his team's goalie. We ended that because I'd become interested in Jake (the first time).

When Jake started dating Melody I'd gone running back to Nathan, only to discover that he'd moved on as well, true to form for a ninth grader. He was interested in my friend Samantha, though this did little to discourage my advances. Even he was clearly confused, as we would spend hours on the phone and he would confess how much he liked me, only to begin dating Samantha soon after. Boys.

Nathan had been in a relationship for most of ninth and tenth grade with a girl named Carly. They broke up briefly in tenth grade, just in time for him to travel to New York with the school band. I seized this opportunity to get close to him, and we shared one perfect kiss huddled in the back of our tour bus as we travelled through the Lincoln tunnel. Only days after our return Nathan got back together with Carly and I gave up. Temporarily.

By the beginning of twelfth grade, Nathan and I were finally both single at the same time, and I was panicked by graduation, which was fast approaching. If I was ever going to make it work with Nathan, this was my last chance.

We had almost identical schedules for our last year of classes, which made it very easy to get closer. I'd be Nathan's partner for every project, run into him in the hallway before every class, and we'd wander to his locker together after band practice (yes, I was a band geek). Having been friends for years at this point, we knew each other so well that we acted like a married couple. I would scold him about finishing his work, he would share the lunches his mother packed him for our after school snack. We were nearly inseperable, but he refused to commit, or label the relationship.

Nathan lived on a dairy farm that was beside his family's apple orchard. He came from a huge tightly knit Baptist family, which instilled him with a firm sense of self and an unfailing dedication to his family. We would drive his father's truck out to the farm after school and stay up late working on our English presentations, listening to "Nothing on but the Radio" and quietly singing along underneath our breath. He was a country boy through and through, from his music taste to his plaid flannel shirts. And I adored him. We would lay together with his arms around me and my head on his chest. He always smelled so good, and the sound of his heart quickly beating would always soothe me.

But we never kissed.

Our mutual attraction was so obvious that every one around us could see us. We sat side by side in sociology class, and our favourite teacher, who was tired of watching us flirt, one day finally looked Nathan in the eyes and said simply, "Nathan, shit or get off the pot".

I was the pot.

That week my friend Sarah and I travelled an hour out of town with Nathan to watch his hockey team compete in the play-offs. On the way home I sat in the front with him and we flirted the whole way. When he told us that he'd be dropping Sarah off first (even though this made no sense logistically) I felt sick with nerves. I was so excited - was I finally getting my chance to kiss him? When we got to my house he idled in my driveway. We made awkward small talk, neither of us brave enough to make the first move, but neither of us wanting the night to end.

Finally, impatient, I let out a loud sigh and said goodnight. He looked surprised but made no effort to stop me as I got out of the car and closed the door. Well, slammed it really (what can I say - I have a flair for drama). As I walked away from him, I could feel the disappointment burning inside me. I could hear his car engine running, and I turned back to see him sitting in my driveway, eyes cast downward, shoulders slumped.

"Here goes nothing," I told myself, and I walked back to him. He looked up, stunned, as I opened the driver's side door. Without a word, I reached forward and kissed him. The snow fell quietly around us, and it felt like that kiss lasted forever. Finally, I pulled away, turned on my heel and left.

The look on his face was priceless.

We didn't really talk about the kiss, and things went back to normal between us. Winter semi-formal was just around the corner and I was desperate for Nathan to take me as his date. He was coy and wouldn't give me a straight answer about whether or not he was going, let alone ask me to go with him. I just couldn't understand what I was doing wrong. I'd been kind and patient and incredibly giving of my time and effort. But my patience was running thin.

The day of the dance came and I still held on to the hope that he might surprise me. I had bought a red dress, which was completely out of character for me, and hoped that he would be wowed when he saw me in it. I got ready with my girlfriends and arrived at the dance, nervously looking at the door every few minutes, praying he would walk through it.

Then I saw him.

Jake.

He'd been trying to convince me to come back to him in the weeks leading up to the dance. "It will be different this time", he promised. "I spent the whole summer thinking about how badly I messed up, I've changed." Nothing he could say was enough to make up for how badly he'd treated me, or make me forget how shitty I'd felt when he'd left me.

He showed up that night to surprise me and I had no idea what to do.  I was so confused, and the combination of surprise, disappointment, and rejection I felt about Nathan drove me right back into Jake's arms. We spent the whole night of the dance together (he'd even reserved a seat for himself at my table for dinner), and he drove me home. We sat in his car under a street lamp while it snowed. He kissed me good night and I felt tears building up in my eyes. What was I doing?

The next day I told Jake we would never get back together. He wasn't even allowed to come to my house because my father was so angry at him. He'd picked up the phone once when Jake had called me during a fight and heard Jake cursing at me and calling me names. Over the summer Jake's family had moved to a house just blocks away from mine. I couldn't have been more frustrated that this happened at the most inconvenient time, but I knew that his excuses weren't enough. Despite the fact that Nathan wouldn't make me his girlfriend, he'd shown me how things could be, and I didn't want to go back.