My last date with the Bartender

I mean “last” as in “final.”

A week ago, I thought we were going strong, and I could see that each time he looked at me he could feel it, too. But he started calling less, and stopped responding to messages.

He was running away. I could feel it; I could sense it. Because he and I are so in tune and we fit so well, I knew before he said anything that the end was coming.

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And in the middle of it, the rest of my life imploded. Work has been great, for the most part: the kids are awesome, we’re gearing up for the dreaded State Test (English tests earlier than the other subjects), my team hasn’t spoken to me much, but so be it. It’s the rest of my life that’s been insane:

  • The Bartender and I had a scare… yes one of those scares.
  • The husband of a woman very near and dear to me left her after 41 years of marriage.
  • The guy who bought theĀ house in which I’m renting a room told me he needed me to leave, even though originally he had said I could stay for as long as necessary.
  • And because I’d been out on medical leave, I don’t have a paycheck until the 8th, and I’m nearly out of groceries… not to mention I have a car payment and a cellphone bill and car insurance that all need to be paid.
  • Oh, and apparently I’m also possibly a victim of identity theft. My bank has called and emailed me to let me know that I’ll be receiving a new bank card because my info has been compromised through some vendor that I purchased things through.

But last night the Ā Bartender took me on an amazing date, and for about 5 hours, I could forget my worries because he brings so much light and sunshine into my life.

I had told him I had already decided that if I was pregnant I was going to keep it. He asked me if I was sure, and I’d told him yes, and that I wouldn’t be asking him for money. I watched what the Boy went through with that kind of a mess, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Yes, I know it would be hard, and yes, I know the state won’t offer me assistance without a name, but the state has denied me assistance before. The only time I ever asked for welfare help, I was going to college full time and working part time, and yet I still didn’t have any money to keep food in the house. After a month of trying to make it all work out, my father finally told me to go get food stamps because people like my parents paid so much in taxes for it, someone who deserved it should get it (He’s considerably more conservative than his voting habits suggest).

They gave me $50. For a whole month as an emergency and then told me to come back next month so they could review my case.

The next month I got $10 and they told me that if I quit going to college I would be able to work more hours and wouldn’t need government assistance…

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The woman behind me still had the little toe separators on from getting a mani-pedi and while I was sitting in my car trying to figure out what I was going to do, she came out smiling… I’m guessing she got herĀ money!

But that’s not really the point of today’s post. Just a fun little jaunt down memory lane.

So the date part of our date was perfect! He came and picked me up and he even kissed me when he picked me up, though he asked if I was sure because it wasn’t going to change anything. We had discussed as part of the “I want to keep the baby” conversation that I knew it meant we would be through, and then I went to get a test at a clinic between work and him picking me up.

He didn’t ask for the results right away. In fact, he was really calm and not at all freaking out, though he’d told me he had been freaking out. And when I tried to discuss things with him, he told me that we would discuss “that and that and THAT,” after the movie; there would be plenty of time for “that” afterwards. There were at least 4 thats in one sentence.

But I wasn’t holding “that” in through a movie. I told him he was off the hook, and that it was negative, and that I’d already had my ugly cry over it, but he could do his little happy dance if he wanted because I knew he didn’t want it.

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He didn’t say anything then. Instead he changed the topic because he knew I was upset, but for me that backfires, so instead, I started explaining to him how I’d had the opportunity to think about it since he’d asked if “we” were pregnant when I had a bad case of a tummy bug (really there was soap in my glass, and I’d used the same glass 3 days in a row, resulting in massive explosive diarrhea, but you don’t say that to a guy). He’d asked me four days after we’d had sex, and though we’d been not careful during my ovulation week, I’d taken the necessary precautions, and the thought hadn’t entered my mind…

Until he said something.

Then I began to think about the what-if’s. Would I keep it? Would it be the thing that changed what happened between he and I? Would I get rid of it and just not tell him?

Yes, I had decided I would get rid of it because I knew things were precarious with us.

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He was doing a lot of not talking to me about his situation with his “other life,” which made me nervous.

It is unfair that men continually think they have a right to make a decision about what is happening in my life without talking to me about it. I got equally as upset about it when the Boy decided we were through and didn’t give me any time to adjust. Never told me what I had done wrong, or what it was that was so offensive that we couldn’t work it out. And then the Boy had relented and given me the “if I can be calm,” then maybe we could date thing.

The Bartender, on the other hand, would hug and kiss and make me feel amazing when we were together. Every time I could tell he liked having me around. He would hold onto me so tight. The man loves me, there is no doubt.

But he’s got this other life that is an issue once a month.

So when we were apart the guilt would eat at him. He told me once that he felt guilty for cheating on me

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So anyway, I had decided I wasn’t going to tell him… Until I changed my mind and decided I was going to keep it, and I felt he should know. Apparently that sped up his decision, like I’d feared it would.

But he wanted to give me one last really good date.

And so, after I cried about telling him how happy even my mother had been when I told her I was pretty sure I was pregnant, he told me that he actually hadn’t been freaking out at all. In fact he had thought about how handsome our child would be. Funnily, I had also assumed it would be a boy, though I’ve always wanted a girl. And he hugged me and held me so tight and let me know it was okay that there was no baby.

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And then we went to dinner and to a later movie because the earlier one was sold out. We saw Batman vs. Superman, and that review will come soon, but this deserved it’s own post.

Everything was perfect. We were at a theater where you can move the armrests and we cuddled and he kissed me on my head in that way that means so much. There was a preview about a movie with kids, and every time a child went by in the theater, he squeezed my hand. Maybe he wasn’t aware of the timing, but I was.

Then,Ā when he dropped me off at my house, he did come up and talk with me, but it ended badly because, well, we fit so well together… We had a great conversation about the movie, and we make each other so happy. I understand why he chose his other life, but the one thing he wants from that life, he could have with me. I don’t mean just replace, but actually bring with him, at least partially. But he won’t even consider it.

He knows it will be difficult, and that he won’t be happy. But his happiness isn’t important, he feels. He still doesn’t see how he deserves to be happy and to be loved.

And he’s choosing to force me to be miserable along with him, by not letting me be with him.

A little part of me is holding out hope because heĀ isĀ my light. He makes me strong, he makes me happy, and I think I do the same for him, which is one of the most important parts of a relationship.

Ours could have been a great story…

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