It Was Unexpected Pt. IV

So, we’ve arrived at the final post on this subject. I’ve told the story, I’ve given the context, I’ve listed some life lessons and some writing ones, but now we come to the answer on why all this even matters. After all, she DID break it off.

“Why do you still care?” you ask.

The answer is simple, at least on the surface: I want Abbey.

Yes, it’s a rather trite turn of phrase, isn’t it? I’ve had multitudes of discussions on this entire situation over the last two weeks, with people on the forums (whom have provided great advice and insight) and my best friend (who has counseled me with similarly great advice and insight). The trusted people in my life, from my family on the forums to my best friend (whom is family) have all agreed: don’t push, be her friend, but don’t assume it’s dead — she didn’t say “never again” after all.

And guess who else told me to have hope? None other than Abbey, the night before she broke it off. She admonished me for being a hopeless romantic and told me I should be a hopeful one. I’ll admit, probably reading into that too much, but it’s a point in my favor, IMO.

I want her and I’m not under the impression it’s a one way thing. She initiated the hand-holding, the arm-looping, and the kissing — not me. That has to take a certain amount of “want” from the initiating party, doesn’t it?

But, why exactly, does any of the above matter if she ended it? Because, being on this end of things, doesn’t feel right. It feels wrong. Here are the reasons why I think this has a chance of working.

1. We get along really well.

I click with this girl like I have with few others. She’s ideal in multiple categories and, though I acknowledge that’s a dangerous thing, I don’t see it that way. She’s incredibly intelligent, has traveled (she’s seen various places in Europe, from Paris to Rome), is cultured (likes plays, dancing) and is a nerd, like myself. Her nerd love is Dr. Who, mine is Star Trek, and we’re both watchers of both things (though she’s still got a long way to go for Trek).

I’ve clicked with people like this in the single digits — add in the gender, and she’s one of three girls I’ve ever clicked with like this and she’s the only one out of the bunch who was single at the time.

2. The odds are against us.

The odds paint this as a harrowing, difficult, nearly impossible thing to pull off. Our respective religions don’t make this easy.

“Shouldn’t that be a bad thing?”

No, not for me. Historically, I thrive on long-shot odds. I lost 133 pounds in 11 months time. I survived two tire blowouts going really fast on busy interstates in the span of two months. I managed not to kill myself by refusing to go to the hospital for nearly two weeks (not my best moment), I survived multiple self-inflicted injuries over my childhood (I’ve never broken anything despite some amazingly poor decisions on my part) and my nearly 22-year-old car is still going (despite my poor automotive skills).

This is a long-shot thing. Just like the two of us meeting was (even though we had lived in the same area for over a decade). It’s a hard thing, a difficult thing, and a big thing — a combination of things that doesn’t make me scared.

3. She brings me peace.

Consumed as I have been with this, you’d think I’d have trouble sleeping. But I haven’t. My mind has a tendency to park itself in worst-case scenarios at night — whether that’s reflecting on horrible things that could happen to people I care about to reflecting on horrible “what ifs” from my past, sleep is not a given for me.

But it’s a given these last few weeks as I’ve had my focus on Abbey. One could call this obsessive and maybe it is, I don’t know for sure and I’m certainly not objective enough to clear myself of all charges.

4. I have eyes only for her.

This might be improper to admit, but I’m a guy and our eyes tend to wander during this stage of life. I’m a mid-twentysomething male with four eyes (glasses count) and they don’t wander anymore, not since this whole thing began. Is it horribly cliche and completely corny? Probably, but it’s true.

5. We have just as many differences as similarities and that’s pretty cool.

The biggest difference is that she’s a Whovian and I’m a Trekkie … 😉

Really, the big thing is the difference in religions. And this is where a lot of soul searching has had to take place, at least on my part. I was sure, sitting in my car and listening to her break up with me, that we could make this work. I said as much, but those things said in the heat of the moment could easily change with time and perspective.

Even with as much research as I’ve done, with the accounts I’ve read, with the measurements I’ve taken of my feelings and thoughts, I still strongly believe we’d make it work. Not because either of us are weak in our own faiths (a common phrase found in the accounts I read), but because both us are practical enough to understand we’re not enemies.

We’re not enemies. We’re different, but that doesn’t make us enemies and this isn’t some war to win or lose. It’s not a battle. It’s one person’s beliefs working in tandem with another person’s, not against.

I can’t convert to Mormonism for her because A) she doesn’t want me to (her words) and B) I don’t agree with some of their beliefs.

Mormonism was something she was raised with, since she was a kid, and it’s helped make her … her. It can’t be all bad if she’s a result of being raised in it. This is probably the one thing I’d like to say the most out of everything else listed here … this is the thing that might have allowed it NOT to end in my car two weeks ago.

As such, if Mormonism helped make her into the person she is then it has positives, even if there are things I don’t agree with. If it came down to it, in a hypothetical future scenario, I’d let her raise our hypothetical future kids in it.

Despite knowing the hell and flak I’d catch for that decision from multiple parties, I have no right to condemn something I don’t fully understand. I’m converting to Catholicism for God’s sake and it’s not as though Catholicism has been free of crimes in its history. No religion is innocent of anything because religions involve people and people are sinful, no matter what their title or position.

6. Life doesn’t seem so scary with her.

Life is big. It’s full of big things, big decisions, and a constant, ticking clock that could stop ticking any second of any day. Life is short, it’s long, it’s a conundrum and it’s blessedly simple, all in one.

It’s a scary, scary mess. And it doesn’t seem so scary with her.

Sure, you could easily make the case that I’m just stuck on her, and you might be right — I can’t claim to know what the feeling is. But I don’t feel that’s the case.

7. Everything happens for a reason.

Remember, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t even really want this job because it’s retail, during the holiday season, and I pulled this stint last year and it wasn’t fun. I hated work last year. I tolerate it pretty well this year.

And I can’t believe in coincidences anymore. I just can’t.

The first day of orientation, when I was called in to run through the stupid employee videos and such, we were all crammed into a room and we had folders in certain seats with our name on it. Except, we all just chose our seats. I picked the seat with Abbey’s folder.

“Small, insignificant, random drivel! That doesn’t matter!”

Probably not. Maybe I’m looking for a pattern that doesn’t exist, but maybe I’m not wrong. Everyone always assumes that such things are just dumb little coincidences and that any case made otherwise is wrong.

What if I’m right?

8. Stop looking for the right person and become the right person.

She makes me a better person. It’s not simply because I’m better feeling but because, in our brief time together, I haven’t lied to her once.

Think about that in the grander context.

I’m a better liar than I’d like to be (a skill I improved on significantly in college). I can lie at the drop of a hat; coming up with fiction is easy. But, for some reason, Abbey inspires a sense of honesty about me that makes lying a far second to telling the truth. We’ve exchanged some hard truths with one another during that week of bliss, truths you don’t necessarily tell a person in the beginning of a relationship. But we told those truths.

And it worked. I don’t know if I am the right person for her (I hope I am, I want to be) but she makes me a better one.

9. We flirt like hell with one another.

If this were truly dead, the flirting wouldn’t happen. It wouldn’t exist. It would be awkward and a bit depressing, but this has been anything but that. There’s a pulse here and, though I’m rather unschooled in the ways of this, that says to me there’s hope. It would be something if she was like that with other guys, but she’s not (as far as I’m aware).

10. I care about her.

And that’s probably the only reason that matters. Even if this doesn’t have a chance of working (a strong possibility), I do care and I want her to be happy: I think I can do that, I think our interactions prove that, but it takes two to tango, as the old saying goes.

For now, I’m dancing alone, but I’m not dead yet.

My mantra is simple: I want Abbey. I’m not going to push or pull, I can’t say anything I’ve said here (at this point), I just have to try and figure out where to go and what to do. It’s not easy, it’s rather confusing, but it’s not depressing.

It’s hopeful.

One thought on “It Was Unexpected Pt. IV

  1. Pingback: The Postmortem | Red Shirt Eulogies

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