A blog about heartbreak.

On Monday, D. matter-of-factly told me in September he is quitting his job and going to Mexico City. Indefinitely.

“Oh. Wow. Um, that’s exciting,” I managed to say in my state of surprise.

There was nothing else from him on the matter: Not a bit of “I know this will affect us…” or “We should talk about this.” It was basically like he put a scorching hot rock in my hand and walked away.

The rest of the night was - expectedly - off. I faked my way through dinner conversation and remained pretty quiet afterwards on our long walk around Portland. He asked a few times why I was so pensive and I told him I was processing some stuff and I needed some time to think. I could tell he was a little nervous but I wanted to prevent myself from blurting out the question screaming in my head: What about us?

It took me a few days to realize that I wasn’t so much upset that he is leaving - it’s his life and it’s way to early for me to expect he takes me into consideration of his future- but what really hurt is that he brought it up like it wasn’t going to affect us, or me, at all. I felt really unimportant to him in that moment.

We didn’t have a chance to talk on the following days except for the random usual daily texts. Last night we finally got to talk - sort of. I waited up for him to get done from the bar and we talked until 5:30 a.m. but it wasn’t exactly productive because we were sleepy and both trying so hard not to make it a heavy conversation.

Basically, it came down to him saying he likes staying in the present with his relationships and the “what ifs” (like “Will we still be together by the time you leave?”) are impossible to know, so why bother thinking about them? And furthermore, he told me this is what he does: Every few years or months, he leaves. I’ve known that since Day 1 and it’s something we’ve really bonded over - our travels, our sense of adventure, our desire to traverse the whole world and not live a conventional life. My response was it doesn’t change the fact that it sucks.

Now I’m left trying to figure out if I should make the most of these remaining months with him and have a good summer before he leaves or if I should just tap out and save myself the heartbreak. I could get out now and it’ll hurt (not to mention I’ll always wonder what I gave up) but god, what agony will I be in September when he leaves if I stick it out?

To add to my confusion, I still don’t know what I want. I don’t know if I want a long-term boyfriend right now. I don’t know if I want to just have a light-hearted summer with him with the expiration date in mind. I really like him and he really likes me, but neither of us know each other well enough to reserve future plans for each other. It’s been less than 2 months, for chrissake. 

I’m not going to make a decision today but it’s pretty much all I will be thinking about, surely.

I have been dating D. for about 6 weeks now and it’s been damn glorious. The only challenge is that our work schedules and lifestyles are slightly incompatible: he’s a bartender and I work a “9-5 job.” In addition to adjusting to out-of-sync work hours, dating a bartender has required adopting a different attitude altogether. Here’s some advice based purely on personal experience about how to handle your sh*t when you’re dating a bartender:

Don’t be intimidated by the women gathered around the bar; they should be worried about you. You’re the bitch with what they want. Never forget they are intimidated by you, not the other way ‘round.

Know how to walk into the room and make it yours. 

Don’t come to his bar whenever he asks. Visit on nights you genuinely want to go and never drop your plans if he invites you down on short notice.

You ain’t his groupie. Don’t hang out at the bar waiting for his attention (which of course he wants to give you but he has people to serve). Bring a friend or make new ones while you are there.

Don’t let your friends treat him like a free drink. Make it clear to them he’s more than that to you. Insist they insist on paying, or at least leaving a good tip.

Never, ever drop-in. It’s his workplace and you’d hate it if he randomly showed up at yours unannounced. Send a breezy text that you’re in the area and wait for him to enthusiastically ask you to stop by.

Be nice to everyone. Win over his regulars and you are golden.

Let another guy try to buy you a drink and wink at your guy when he tips like a Rockefeller.

His hours aren’t weird - and neither are yours. You both have jobs with schedules that don’t always sync. Don’t make him feel guilty because he works 5-6 nights a week until 2:30 a.m. and don’t let him make you feel guilty that you don’t. It’s important you both respect what you do and your lifestyle.

Never ask if he wants to be “more than” a bartender. If he talks about other ambitions, fine. If he doesn’t, assume he likes his job and get behind him. Be proud of how he does his work, his long hours, his killer playlists, his dedication to his regulars, his ideas for making the bar better and how he takes care of everyone. Be turned on by how he 86’s lewd and drunk people from his bar. 

If you have an office-y job, own the fact that you’re lucky to have stable hours, a salary and benefits. Don’t apologize for it (and hey, he can pull $400+ on a single night in tips so…) but don’t ignore the white elephant in the room, either. Learn to talk about it, even if it’s uncomfortable at first.

Never be embarrassed to tell someone you’re dating a bartender. Stand by your man. Don’t entertain questions from friends who ask “What else does he do?”

Know when to compromise on sleep (and when not to). On Friday nights, I will go to bed at 11 p.m. and wake up at 3 a.m. when he comes over after work. I’ll let him sleep-in while I go to my favorite gym class the next morning. But on Sunday nights, I go to bed at 11 p.m. while he stays up reading until his normal bedtime; he’s very insistent about that. It’s quite nice. 

Yesterday D. called me at work and said what ever girl wants to hear: “I’m taking you out for an amazing meal tonight.”

That meal turned out to be at a fine dining restaurant right under my ex Em.’s apartment. If there was no background music at this place, we would have been able to hear him walking around upstairs.

I didn’t want to tell D. at first because he wanted to eat there and besides that, Screw Em., I thought to myself, I can eat wherever I fucking want.

I must’ve been a little jumpy though because before the first course, D. asked if everything was alright. I explained the circumstances and he asked if I wanted to leave. I said no; there was no reason.

D. then asked “What will you do if you see him?”

It was a good question and despite months of picturing in my head our first re-encounter, I still didn’t have the answer. I have not seen or spoken to Em. since January 31 when we had our final conversation that night and shortly thereafter I de-friended him on Facebook upon learning he was already seeing someone else.

But I won’t lie: I still think about Em. Mostly, I think about how awful he was to me and how I am better and healthier without him. Sometimes, however, I think about how I miss him, or rather miss the person I thought he could be and the person he might be with his new girlfriend. I think about what it would feel like to run into them together. I think about how I compare to her, if I do at all.

Those thoughts are folly and fortunately, fleeting. It doesn’t take more than a second to snap out of it with the assurance that I am happier and more confident without him, especially now that I am with someone who makes me feel nothing short of joyful and treats me so damn well.

All the same, Em. remains a ghost. His presence is felt every time I bike down Belmont, walk into the bar where we spent New Years’ together, or remember an inside joke between us. He is a ghost that haunts me in every place, from my mind to the attic of the restaurant where I am just trying to enjoy a nice meal with someone else.

I spent the whole weekend with D. (again). He came over Friday night after closing his bar and we decided to get drunk together in my living room. We finished a bottle of Patron, put on old soul music and danced in my living room barefoot and goofy until 6 a.m.

The next morning go to brunch with my good friend and then shopping for a blackboard and curtains for his house. I laughed when we entered Bed, Bath & Beyond.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“We’ve only been hanging out for like, three weeks and we’re spending our Saturday at The Home Depot and Bed, Bath & Beyond,” I reply.

He smirks and playfully pushes me onto a display bed and kisses me.  ”You know I’m infatuated with you, right?” he asks as he pushes back my bangs to kiss me on the forehead. 

“Yeah, I know.” Because I do.

That night we lay on blankets and watch a fireworks show at the college where I work and then we get silly drunk at a friend’s apartment while listening to Wu Tang Clan. It makes me happy to see him get along so well with my friends. We walk to my apartment after and talk half-drunkenly, half-earnestly about quitting everything and sailing down the Mississippi River together. By the time the sun comes up, we’re halfway to the gulf and asleep.

Last night D. asked me to visit him at his bar. I intentionally avoid going there, as I know the place is ripe with women flirting with him and frankly, I ain’t no groupie. I know he finds my absence vexing and told me last week he keeps hoping I’ll show up one night.

I responded to his invite with a vague “I have another engagement but maybe I will drop-in at the end of the night.” I did not tell him my engagement was cleaning my kitchen, but hey, that’s what I vowed to do last night. When I finished early I decided I still enough energy so I went to see him.

I walk into the bar and upon seeing me he flashes me a smile that makes me weak in the knees. He then jumps over the bar and gives me a hug and kiss, in front of all his watching regular patrons. I felt high.

One drink later, we start making plans for the weekend.

D: I actually am going to have more time open on weekends now to see you.

Me: Oh yeah?

D: [clears throat] Yeah. These last few weeks I’ve had a lot going on. But I realized I was not interested in doing any of “that” anymore. I am only really interested in one thing… or one person, rather.

Me: Is that so.

D: It turns out it is easy to give up on what you don’t want for something that you really do.

D: So, how is that for subtle?

I was grateful the bar was so dimly lit he couldn’t see me blush. I smiled slyly at him and told him his subtlety needs work.

More conversation to come, but there you have it. The boy is mine.

Last night I went to D.’s place for our weekly Monday movie night with some of his friends. I was nervous to go over after yesterday’s confusing quasi-DTR conversation but I already told him I would come and I didn’t want to make things worse by bailing for the sake of avoiding awkwardness.

I’m glad I went. While the first few minutes were a little clumsy between us, things quickly became easy and playful again. We had a great dinner of dim sum and bubble tea, followed by a few hours of cuddling and watching movies.

We didn’t talk about Sunday, nor did I want to. I want more time to think through things and he should have the same. He did invite me to go to Seattle with him for a weekend, a promising sign. At the end of the night he asked me to stay the night; I agreed. When I slipped out this morning to go to the gym and work, I kissed him on the back on my way out and he reached for me and pulled me back into bed for a last embrace.

I’m glad I went.

I spent my whole weekend with D. - we went to dinner, a beer festival, watched a movie, drank a bottle of wine in my living room until 4 a.m., rode bikes to the park, hung out with two of my best friends, read books in his living room under the whirling ceiling fan as an escape from the hot summer-esque afternoon.

On Saturday night we fell asleep spooning and he whispers in my ear “I like you. I like who I am around you. You’re good for me and you make me happy.”

But by Sunday night, we are sitting awkwardly on his couch and in nervous loose sentence structures like an ESL speaker I tell him that I like him and while I am not asking for him to be my boyfriend, I want to know if that will ever be on the table.

He responds with the prepared standard Portland Guy speech about how he really likes me but prior to meeting me he wanted to just be single for awhile and blah blah blah. He’s just coming out of a serious relationship and blah blah blah. He knows he and I would be a really good thing but doesn’t know if he is ready for a relationship right now and blah blah blah. He needs to think about it.*

So he’s thinking about it.

To be honest, I myself am not really sure what “it” is. I have this great talent for saying things that don’t need to be said, when they don’t need to be said, and how they don’t need to be meant. I didn’t ask him to be exclusive, I didn’t ask for him to be mine or introduce me as his girlfriend to people - but maybe that’s what he thinks I was asking. I just wanted to avoid the whole Em. Catastrophe where I stupidly dated someone who never wanted to be in a relationship. I refuse to date anyone where a future isn’t on the table, even if that future can’t be defined right now.

* I also just want to say that despite my bitter retelling, he wasn’t a jerk at all. It’s a dick situation but he isn’t a dick. He was as usual very respectful, kind and honest through the whole thing, which just makes it all the worst if he decides tonight he’d rather be single than be with me. 

Last night I found out my grandfather passed away while I was at D’s place. I was taken by surprise, even though my grandfather has been quite ill for awhile. I guess you never really expect this sort of thing.

D couldn’t have been better: As soon as I started to cry, he literally dropped the books in his hand and held me. He asked what I needed and I think I managed to say I wanted to call my mother. He gave me his jacket and walked me outside where he left me alone to talk to family, checking in every now and then to bring me a glass of water and kiss me on the head as I sobbed quietly to my mom.

When I was done, I came upstairs and he asked if I wanted to stay or go; I told him I wanted to stay. We laid down and I was immediately soothed, my head resting on his chest as he stroked my hair. He asked me to tell him about my grandfather and I told him about how he wore black socks in the swimming pool. We traded stories about our dysfunctional but loving families until we fell asleep. I had to leave him early in the morning for work but I made sure to kiss him goodbye and thank him for taking good care of me.

But as if all that wasn’t sweet enough, I just came home from work to find a package from him on my doorstep.

…Can I keep him?