Fat and Slutty

Before reading this, you should read Dating Chronicles: The Artist (Part One)

The last communication I had with Jeff was when he told me not to contact him again. I apologized the next day, and then I left him alone. That particular coffin had been nailed shut and I actually felt better for it.

Three months later I was sitting in my office on a Tuesday afternoon. My phone rang, just one ring, his name was on the screen. I texted my best friend, we agreed it had to have been a mistake. He was trying to call a different Sarah. I tried calling back, my number was still blocked. Definitely a mistake, I put it out of my mind.

When I got home from work one day the following week my phone rang. His name was on my screen again. I let it ring three times before I picked up. Hello? It was not a mistake. He said he had been thinking about me, he was sorry for the way he had treated me, he was going through some things, he had been wrong to push me away. Would I be willing to try again? I apologized too, I wasn’t proud of my behavior, he said he understood and didn’t think any less of me for it. He asked if I had been dating anyone, I told him yes.

He called five separate times that night, we talked for a total of three hours. It was nice to reconnect with him, it had caught me off guard. When he called the fifth time, he told me he was in love with me. That he had loved me the whole time, he had been scared but he wasn’t now, he was ready to let his walls down and dive into this. He had accepted my marriage and that our relationship would be an unconventional one. He would do better at communicating with me. I cried. There had been a time when I dreamed of having this conversation with him. Now, my trust in him was badly damaged. But I was willing to meet and see what happened.

He told me he had started painting again, for the first time in months. I asked him what he was working on. It was a painting of me. He mentioned the earrings I had left behind. He still had them, he looked at them every day. I asked him how that made him feel, ‘It gives me a glimpse of you.’

I drove there after work the following evening. I was shaking and nauseous the whole way. He came out to meet me, back in that parking lot again. We hugged, maybe we kissed, I don’t remember. We went inside and opened a bottle of wine. We talked, he apologized, he told me loved me. He wasn’t as beautiful as I remembered, but it was good to see him. We sat on his couch and talked for hours. I waited for my old feelings for him to resurface, I was so certain they would, but it didn’t happen.

We went to the bedroom and had somewhat mediocre sex. He was too rough with his hands, it was uncomfortable. The Adderall was causing issues again too. The whole thing was underwhelming. I stayed the night this time, and got up early to go home and get ready for work. I felt pretty numb.

I thought perhaps I just needed some time, to be around him more, to remember how it had been in the beginning. I saw him again that Friday and we went out to some bars. He invited a friend of his to join us. She was nice, good fun. He started hinting at a threesome and I shut it down. Now is not the time, I told him. She likes you, he said. No.

We all headed back to his place, via a late night taco spot. He had finished the painting, it was absolutely beautiful. We all sat on his couch. There were two dirty wine glasses on his coffee table, with the remnants of red wine. We had drunk white. Who was here drinking red with you?

‘You two should kiss’, he declared. ‘You don’t get to decide that’, I replied. We hung out a while longer, she went to bed in his room. He and I fucked on the couch for a while. Mediocre, again. Then we slept. I got up early and left. I was seeing The Drummer that day, and I needed to get myself ready before driving to the hotel we had booked.

After that, things got progressively more awkward. Nevertheless, we made a plan to meet again the following week. I texted the day before to see if we were still on – no reply. I called and texted on the day, no reply. I was done. I sent one more message to let him know we wouldn’t be seeing each other again. That I wasn’t there for him to toy with when he was lonely. Enough was enough. He replied two hours later, saying there had been a family emergency and he was sorry it had taken so long to respond. I said I hoped all was OK, nothing more.

Two weeks went by with no communication. Then he called. It had been his birthday the previous weekend. Someone had sent him flowers and a love poem at work, but there was no name on them. He wondered if it was me. No. It was not. He was sorry for what had happened the last time we spoke. He asked if I was seeing anyone, I said I was. He was out at a bar when he called, he said he would call again when he got home. Unsurprisingly, I have not heard from him since. I’m not mad about it.

Who knows, perhaps in another three months he’ll get in touch again and we’ll see where we land that time. Or perhaps it’s really finished now. It probably should be.

Update: It’s 2am and he just called me. Of course he did.

Second update: By 4am he was begging me to go to him. I went, like a fucking idiot. Got there at 5am. Sat in that godforsaken parking lot. Couldn’t get hold of him. Drove my stupid ass home again. Fuck this guy. Fuck, I’m so stupid.

Final update: He texted the next morning to apologize and say he would make it up to me somehow. The day after that, he texted being angry that I was angry. I’ve blocked his phone number, so this will be the final installment!

Final FINAL update: Five days after I blocked his number, he tried to call me at 2am on a Saturday night. Then he sent me a message on Facebook to “apologize” for his behavior (I had forgotten to block him there since we aren’t friends). I replied, recommended he seek therapy, and told him I wasn’t going to allow him any further opportunities to treat me badly. And that was that.

Still wish I had that painting though. It really is good.