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Romance in the Worst of Times
I also remember what I was doing on October 1, 2001 - it was my husband's 60th birthday party. We had beautiful weather, so it was outside on our deck with 20 or so friends and family. My then three-year old granddaughter helped blow out candles and open gifts, and we all talked about how difficult it must be for those of you in New York. But we were having a nice time and it was too hard to think about the awful tragedy.
I know nothing can change the past, but I can tell you that life is not always good. Hearts break and lives are cut short every day. My best friend since 8th grade recently died from cancer. Her grandson died last month from a gunshot in a double suicide pact. I can understand why people must rely on a higher power to get through these wretched events. And maybe this is why some people choose not to love anyone and in fact choose to hate life, so they will not be hurt by loss.
But loss is something we can't control, and we miss so much if we do not allow ourselves to be vulnerable. By opening up your life, including your lowest points along with your joys and triumphs, you, Laura, are helping others to see how we might all cope with the struggles of daily life. Thank you for sharing your vulnerability with us.
In the past I looked forward to bosses going away on vacation, but when I heard Tim would be out for a whole two weeks I didn't want him to go. It was going to be so quiet and boring in the office without him around -- what was I going to do all day to keep me entertained?
I signed up for Matchmaker.com's free, two-week trial membership. That ought to drum up some action! I posted a profile without a picture and received a trickle of responses, which was hardly any fun. But then, for the hell of it I decided to attach this super-sexy picture my friend Robert had recently taken of me.
Responses started flooding in within hours, and didn't let up for days. In a week I received responses from over 200 fawning men eager to make my acquaintance. In a superficial way sifting through 200 responses was great for my ego, but inside I knew they were just fawning over the sexy Glamazon the picture made me out to be, not the modest girl I really am.
Most of the guys seemed to have hardly even read my profile. If they did, they would
have known we wouldn't have been a "love connection." Example: I didn't want to date a smoker yet smokers replied; I didn't want to date someone younger than me, yet guys much younger replied, et cetera.
Well, I read their profiles, and was undeterred by even the most chiseled of pecs. My many prospects got cut down and down and down, until all that was left were a paltry three. And then two. And then one, this guy named Mark.
From Mark's profile he sounded really cool, and he looked cute in his picture. After talking on the phone we made a date. When we met it was pleasant enough, but there were no sparks. I did, however, leave enough of a positive impression that he "recommended" me to his friend Jason.
Jason sent me a witty introductory e-mail that included a link to his profile currently on Match.com. When we spoke, we had a great conversation. We arranged to meet at 6:30 p.m. in the lobby of the Marriott Marquis hotel. From there we would go to their 47th floor revolving rooftop lounge for a drink.
I had told Jason about my website/writing, and from the get-go he was apprehensive -- he told me he didn't want to end up as another "Boyfriend Saga." Before our Marriott Marquis date, as a P.S. in an e-mail I joked, "You know, I can be asked to sign a confidentiality agreement."
Jason called the morning of our date to confirm. As we were about to get off the phone he said, "Actually, I would like that confidentiality agreement." I said sure. But after we got off the phone, I couldn't shake this feeling of annoyance. We hadn't even met, and already he's assuming I'm going to write a story about him and post it on my website? Annoyance notwithstanding, before leaving to meet him I printed out the following:
August 21, 2001
It is not a given that I write stories about everyone and everything in my life, but I hereby
declare that even if I want to, I will not write a story about JASON [so-and-so].Signed,
Laura Martin
Instead of looking forward to our date, I began to feel increasingly dismayed about it. Jason was so serious about the confidentiality agreement -- a guy shouldn't have to "worry" about dating me.
I left my office to meet Jason. Running a bit late, I should have been hurrying, but I dallied as I walked to the elevators. I was thinking I didn't want to go through with it. An elevator arrived. The doors opened. I got in. It took me down to the lobby. I stepped out. Glancing at my watch, it was already after six. Hurry, Laura, or you'll be late. Don't want to be late for your first date! Don't want to... I don't want to go. I'm not going. I'm going to cancel. Oh, but cancelling 20 minutes before we're supposed to meet is lame... well, too bad. I'm doing it.
I got in another elevator and took it to our company's reception area, where there was a phone. Figuring he was already en route, I dialed Jason's cell. No answer. Good. I left a message:
Hi, it's Laura. Sorry this is so last minute, but I won't be meeting you tonight. The whole
"confidentiality thing" isn't sitting right with me. Writing is one of the ways I express myself --
it's part of what I do and who I am. I don't want to go out with someone who is so
unsupportive of it, so that's why I won't be meeting you. Sorry again to cancel so late. Bye.
Standing him up at the last minute -- certainly I would never hear from him again. The next morning, however, I received an e-mail from Jason entitled "Stood up on a misunderstanding." He explained that he was in the process of getting a patent for a device he had invented, and he knew he would want to tell me about the project but had been advised by his lawyer not to tell anyone about it unless they signed a confidentiality agreement. He wasn't worried I was going to write about him per se, just his project.
I gave him a call but he wasn't home. I left a message agreeing that I had misunderstood the situation. I apologized again for standing him up. I wasn't sure he still wanted to meet me.
Jason soon returned my call. He was still interested. Funny, but now we wanted to meet each other all the more. We made a second plan to meet at the Marriott, weather permitting. This time I was very much looking forward to it.
The weather forecast threatened rain, so we decided to meet instead at a café in the Village. I arrived on time at six p.m.
Blind dates are always stressful to some degree, but when I was waiting I felt completely at ease. Jason arrived and we said our hellos. We clicked from the minute we met.
Sipping our cocktails, conversation flowed. Later, when I excused myself to "freshen up" in the ladies lounge, I looked at my watch for the first time since Jason arrived. Time had sped by. I couldn't believe it was already 8:45.
We moved on to dinner at Nyonya, a Malaysian restaurant I knew of that was only a few blocks away. Dinner was great -- delicious food and more interesting, flowing conversation. After dinner we strolled to the City Hall subway station, my train home. Another thing blind dates (or any first dates) are known for are awkward good-byes at the end of the evening. Shall the kiss goodnight be on the cheek or on the lips, or perhaps there won't be one at all?
When we were saying good-bye Jason stood very close. I sensed a kiss on the lips was fast approaching. I felt shy. We shared a quick kiss on the lips before I turned my face to the side, cutting it short -- at least for this time.
Jason e-mailed me at work the next morning: "Great date!" My sentiments as well. It had been nearly a year since I had broken up with Joseph, and at last I had a promising prospect. We spoke a couple of days later and made a plan to have dinner the following week.
He chose Hangawi, an upscale Korean restaurant in the East 30s. I thoroughly enjoyed his company and our eight-course meal of assorted vegetarian delicacies. Bidding farewell outside the restaurant, once again we stood very close. I said, "Thank you so much for the beautiful, amazing dinn---" when I was cut off by a big kiss planted right on my lips. It was a sumptuous kiss that I didn't turn away from. We definitely had chemistry.
It was a balmy September evening and we went for a stroll. Walking hand-in-hand through the city streets, everything felt right. I savored every minute of it, because perfect times like this night come so rarely.
We found a bench in a small park where we were all alone. Sitting close, we got to kissing. Around midnight, I said I had to be heading home. Jason walked me to my apartment. When we got to the entrance I asked if he wanted to come in? He did. Inside, we got to kissing again.
Jason left around two. I soon drifted off to sleep, with dreamy thoughts of how great things were between us after only our second date.
Our third date was a week later. Back then it was just another day in September. But now the calendar date has a lot of significance: it was Monday evening, September 10th, 2001. Jason cooked a special dinner for us -- miso cod, signature dish of the swanky restaurant Nobu. By candlelight we shared a beautiful meal. Jason's apartment was in Tribeca, the neighborhood north of the Financial District. After dinner we went for a walk. We walked along the promenade at Battery Park, where we passed the World Trade Center and the World Financial Center. We walked to the highest point on this sloping ramp alongside the promenade. The Hudson River was in front of us, the World Financial Center behind, and to our right were the Twin Towers, all lit up at night. It was spectacular New York scenery. No one was around. We stood there for a while, kissing.
When we left to head back to Jason's, once again we passed the Twin Towers. We stopped to admire them. I soaked in their magnificence, from the ground all the way up, up, up to their immensely high tops that nearly touched the sky. Such grand, amazing buildings, I thought to myself. In that romantic, blissful moment, the last thing I could have ever imagined was that come morning they'd be gone, along with thousands of innocent people, and our world would forever be changed.
It was around midnight when we got back to Jason's apartment. We were having such a nice time together that I didn't want to leave. He didn't want me to either. I stayed over.
We shared half-asleep kisses and caresses into the wee hours of the morning. I hadn't planned on sleeping over, so before going to work I had to return to my apartment to change. I left Jason's at 7:15 a.m.
I caught an express train and zipped uptown. At my apartment, I quickly showered, changed, and headed back out. On my walk to work I floated down the street. My thoughts wandered from how nice it was to have slept next to Jason, to the new vintage dress I was wearing that looked so cute, to what I was going to make for dinner on our next date two days later.
The company where I worked was located on 52nd Street between Park and Madison. We had a lounge on the 16th floor with a huge screen TV, where complimentary breakfast was served every morning.
I didn't always stop by the lounge to grab something for breakfast, but on this morning I did. Upon arriving I couldn't help but notice an unusually large group of people gathered around the TV. It was 8:55 a.m.
Brought up to speed, a plane had just crashed into one of the Towers. Extensive live news coverage showed smoke billowing out of the building. Then, as we know all too well, the events of the morning went from bad to worse to inconceivably horrific. Watching the second plane hit the South Tower on live TV was shocking and terrifying. I thought of Jason, who lived only seven blocks away, and also of my friend Robert who lived even closer.
At 9:15 I ran down to my desk to call them. I couldn't get through to either. Next I called my mom and Pam. I got through to my mom. After I told her what had happened (she never watches TV or listens to the radio in the morning, so I knew she wouldn't have known), I rushed back to the TV for updates. By this time the crowd had swelled considerably, and the fear and shock felt by all was escalating. I sat on the floor and watched with the others. Impulsively, I kept shaking my head back and forth in disbelief. We were all in disbelief. How could this be happening?
When the news reported that a third plane had hit the Pentagon, I felt true fear. Fear, because I knew this meant "War." When the first Tower collapsed it was inconceivable. And then the other collapsed. They just imploded into the ground. Those grand buildings I had seen with my own eyes the very night before had now just turned into dust. How can that be? How can that possibly be? It was getting overwhelming.
Around 10:30, I couldn't watch the news anymore. I headed down to my floor. Tim had just dismissed our department, telling everyone to go wherever they needed to. He saw my face, full of anguish, and asked, "Do you know where you're going?" I nodded my head no, I didn't know where to go. "Do you want to go home with me?" Through a choke of tears I said, "Yes."
A few minutes later he told me he needed to stay, to discuss the situation with upper management. He handed me his keys, saying I could go to his apartment and stay with Warren, his partner whom I liked a lot.
I exited the building. It was an exceptionally clear day and the sky was vivid blue. But I didn't want to be outside. I wanted to get to the shelter of Tim's apartment as quickly as possible.
I headed west. When I reached the corner of Madison I looked downtown. A huge cloud of black smoke filled the sky.
Grasping Tim's keys tight, I briskly walked to his apartment. I was glad when Warren answered the door. It was a good place to seek refuge.
I checked my voice mail at work. There was a message from Jason letting me know he was okay. I called him back and got through this time. It was a huge relief to connect. He told me he had been watching from the street, and had seen one of the Towers collapse. He was north of the Towers at the time, the opposite direction the dust clouds had traveled. In real life, in real time, he saw people jump. How utterly abominable.
Then I tried again to call Robert, who lived a mere two blocks away from the area subsequently named "Ground Zero." His line was still busy. I got through to his father around noon, who had received word that he was okay. He had been outside at the time, watching as the second plane hit. Explosion, flames, glass shards raining down, chaos, confusion, scattering of people. Robert knew to get out of the area immediately. He made it out before the Towers collapsed and the debilitating dust clouds engulfed the area.
Tim got home around three. By then I was physically and mentally drained (I had gotten only three hours' sleep the night before). He told me I could stay as long as I wanted, but by 4:00 I felt ready to head home.
The streets were eerily quiet. The huge cloud of black smoke still loomed over lower Manhattan. I thought I might have to walk home because there wouldn't be any public transportation, but some busses were running. No fare required the afternoon of September 11th.
I arrived home safely. I checked my e-mail. It felt comforting, in a way, to read the many kind words sent to me from Laura's NYC Tales readers in America and beyond.
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: I hope you're OK
Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2001Just wanted to drop you a line and let you know that I'm thinking of you and yours.
When I heard about what happened this morning, I could not believe my ears.
Later, I thought of you. I have read many of your stories, and through these stories
you have become like one of my buddies who went off to live in the big city. I know
that sounds silly, but your stories really let people feel like they know you.I hope that you are well after all that has happened today.
Kathy in Southeast Georgia
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: are you allright?
Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2001Laura, I have been thinking of you all day. I am hoping that you are OK and
not in the vicinity of the warfare.What a disaster you must be living through!!!
Just one of your online friends from the West coast.
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: are you okay
Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2001Laura, are you okay?
New Zealand can't believe what has happened to you guys, hope you and your
family and friends are all okay. My thoughts are with you all.----------------------------------------------------------------
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: hey
Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2001Hey, just wanted to drop you a note. I've long enjoyed your site about living
in NYC. Today's obviously been a horrible day; wanted to let you know my
thoughts are with you and your fellow New Yorkers.----------------------------------------------------------------
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: Condolences
Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2001I would like to express my deepest condolence with you, your people and your
great city. My heart and mind and the heart and mind of Berlin is with your people
in this great tragedy.I hope you and your family and friends are safe. Keep strong.
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Jason called around seven. The power in his building had gone out -- he had no electricity, water or phone service (but he did have a cell). I invited him to come over to my place. I was so glad when he said he would be there soon.
I waited for Jason to arrive with great anticipation. At last he did. I buzzed him in. When I opened my door and he stepped inside my apartment, strangely, we didn't say a word. We just looked at each other, and then put our arms around each other in a deep, long embrace.
Later that evening I called my work voice mail. There was a message from Tim saying we didn't have to come in the next day if we didn't feel up to it. Whatever we felt comfortable with was fine.
Jason and I slept in on Wednesday morning. Wrapped up in each other, we stayed in bed until noon, far removed from that awful world out there. A stolen morning due to a national tragedy.
Around 1:00, we surfaced to get something to eat. From where I live on the Upper East Side, we couldn't see or smell the smoke cloud we knew was hovering over downtown.
Was yesterday just a bad dream? I mean, how can it be a reality? The Twin Towers can't really gone. We just saw them the other day. But no... it is real. They are gone. It's so awful. And thousands of innocent people -- gone. What a horrid thing has happened to our City.
We walked to a bagel store a few blocks away and got some food to go. Then we walked to a nearby park. We sat and ate as children played about. It felt surreal. We decided my "everything" bagel was better than Jason's poppy seed. How could we talk about bagels at a time like this?
I walked Jason to the subway. He headed to his weekly Wednesday therapy session (how convenient today) and I headed to my office. I didn't know where else to go, what else to do. About six people in my department were there. No one did any work. We just talked about -- things. When I got home there were more e-mails from readers of my website. It was nice to know they cared.
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: My thoughts are with you
Date: Wed, 12 Sep 2001Although I so much enjoy your stories, especially those concerning the
washing machine tales and your thriftiness (enough to make any good Scottish
man happy), I have never subscribed to your notification list, perhaps because
I look forward to the surprise of checking in and finding new things.I wish to offer most sincere condolences for the dreadful events that have
developed in your country yesterday. It is a most shocking occurrence that words
fail me to describe. For myself and for and my country it is an absurd attack on
all humanity.I have had cause over the past few years to visit Bosnia, Croatia, Russia, Korea
and Vietnam, amongst other places of wanton destruction, and have seen the
atrocities of war, but nothing can compare with the sickening television footage of
New York and the Pentagon that I watched yesterday.May I wish you and your countrymen hope, strength and compassion as you
continue to mend all that has been broken. My thoughts go with you, your
people, and your families through this awful time.----------------------------------------------------------------
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: ARE YOU OK?
Date: Wed, 12 Sep 2001I hope you are OK and unharmed by the terrorist attack. I have been
thinking about you because you are the only person I sort of know in New
York. I revisited your pictorial walk across the Brooklyn Bridge today, and
wish things were as they used to be: a beautiful city that will rebuild itself and
will survive.----------------------------------------------------------------
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Subject: be strong
Date: Wed, 12 Sep 2001I could not help thinking about you and your great city as I watched the shocking
news yesterday. Your city and the world will never be the same but I know New
Yorkers are a proud and courageous people who won't let this put them down.----------------------------------------------------------------
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To: <laura@laurasnyctales.com>
Date: Thu, 13 Sep 2001
Subject: Re: I'm OK -- my story (Part One)I am so glad that you and those you know are unharmed. This has been such
an amazing tragedy. I live in San Diego, and our downtown was completely
closed on Tuesday, as were all of our universities. The border to Mexico was
closed for several hours after the attacks as well.I just hope that our countries retaliation won't harm innocents - I mean, if we
go into some country and start dropping bombs, what makes us any better
than the terrorists that have inflicted such pain on us?It's such a confused and frightening time.
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The following evening, Jason and I had a quiet dinner at my place. Again he slept over, partly out of necessity because his apartment still didn't have electricity or running water.
When I was getting ready for work on Friday morning, I watched this incredibly heart-wrenching interview on TV. The CEO of Cantor Fitzgerald, a prominent investment bank, was sobbing about what had happened. The attack claimed two-thirds of their workforce, and every employee in their NYC office that day. After watching that interview, I felt an extreme heaviness, more so than I had felt before. I thought, This is going to be a tough day to get through. I just know it.
In the workplace we're supposed to be well-behaved adults, never crying, always in control of our emotions. But sitting at my desk that morning, I couldn't hold back my tears. I didn't care that that it was "unprofessional."
A very nice supervisor that I worked with came over to my desk. She told me our company had hired a crisis counselor to come in and speak with employees who were having a hard time coping after the 11th, and a session had just begun.
I soon joined a roomful of fellow teary-eyed co-workers. The session was a sort of roundtable discussion, with each person talking for a few minutes about how they were affected by the tragedy. Some expressed feelings of guilt for being grief-stricken despite not personally knowing anyone who was "missing." The session was helpful, but when it adjourned at 11:00, I still felt unfit to be in the workplace. I told Tim I needed to leave. He didn't question it.
I had planned on taking the six o'clock bus to Woodstock, but now I could catch the noon one, provided it could make it out of the City. (At the time there was limited access in and out of the Lincoln Tunnel.)
The noon bus slinked through the tunnel. Phew. I was getting out. Out of oppressive New York City, and into what would hopefully be the solace of the country.
When the bus exited the tunnel on the New Jersey side, I braced myself for the upcoming view. From the route the bus takes, riders get to see a fantastic view of the Manhattan skyline. I feared what it would look like without the Towers.
The bus rounded the bend and approached the view. I looked all the way to the right, to the southernmost tip of the City. There I saw our "new" skyline for the first time: a skyline with no Towers. They were indeed gone.
I kept in close touch with Jason that weekend away. September 11th had connected us so deeply, so quickly, yet in a way, so unnaturally. We never had a get-to-know-you, courting phase -- in a flash we went from a few dates to talking several times a day, every day, and seeing a lot of each other. Mind you, I'm not complaining. I was extremely grateful that Jason was in my life during that most difficult time.
Spending the weekend after the 11th out of NYC was a much-needed getaway. (Just being there heavily taxed the soul.) It enabled me to regain my strength to go back and "do battle" with the City again. I could have taken a few days off and stayed away longer, but NYC is my home and I didn't want to run away from it. Also, I wanted to be with Jason.
We saw each other as soon as I returned. The power in his building was now back on, so he was back to staying at his place. After dinner in Chinatown, we walked to his apartment. When we approached one of the many police barricades encompassing a large area around Ground Zero, Jason had to show identification to get through (proving he lived within and was going home). The closer we walked to Ground Zero, the eerier it became. No cars were in the streets and few civilians were around. When you're used to a constant, high-energy hustle and bustle and suddenly all is virtually still, there's no denying it feels quite spooky.
Two days later I met up with my pal Brett. He had been working in an office a few blocks from the WTC when the horrors unfolded. He had been amidst the craziness near the heart of it all, and was one of the lucky ones to have escaped unscathed.
Immediately after 9/11 all subway lines were bypassing the Ground Zero stops. After dinner in Brooklyn Heights, Brett and I were riding home when the train stopped at the Wall Street station and the doors opened. We looked at each other like, "Oh my God, it stopped!" We jumped out; very curious what we would find when we surfaced.
The spooky feeling I had experienced walking through the barricaded streets of Jason's Tribeca neighborhood was tame compared to what I saw and felt walking close to Ground Zero days after the tragedy. True to what we saw in pictures and on TV, every nook and cranny was covered with a layer of grayish-white dust. Replacing cars, army tanks rumbled down the streets. Scores of policemen and military personnel patrolled the area, weaponry conspicuously slung over their shoulders. Not one store was open for business.
The movie The Road Warrior came to mind: the earth (or at least this part of it) was now a barren, desolate wasteland. The very streets that had been teeming with life less than two weeks ago were now stopped dead in their tracks, and I was walking through them surveying the aftermath.
I walked even closer. As seen on the news, I saw that giant steel remnant that looked like a waffle chip, sticking out from the rubble, left behind from when one of the Towers collapsed. I felt a heart-sinking mix of astonishment, sadness and fear -- always fear. Fear, because who's to say something like this won't happen again, and worse?
For some grounding and stability during this most difficult time, at least I had a job -- a great job with Tim. Unfortunately for Jason, he wasn't employed. He had been doing some freelance consulting, but after 9/11 nearly all of the freelance work in his field dried up practically overnight.
To fill his days, Jason became a 9/11 volunteer. For the first few weeks he worked directly on the Ground Zero premises, helping serve food to the rescue workers. Then he worked at Bouley, an upscale restaurant in Tribeca that was closed for regular business and now devoting itself to preparing food for the Ground Zero workers.
My birthday is September 21st. In 2001 it was on a Friday. In previous years I organized a gathering of my closest friends, but this birthday I had little spirit -- all I wanted to do was to have a low-key evening with Jason. On my birthday, after work I went to Jason's apartment. He had many gifts for me. He told me he enjoyed shopping for them because they "took his mind off things" (9/11 "things" were still so heavy and intense). I slept over that night. It was so nice to be with Jason and sleep next to him. He thought the same way about me, saying we "fit perfectly together."
On Saturday we hung around his apartment all morning into the afternoon. I didn't do anything all day. There's nothing wrong with the occasional lazy day, right? Yet it was more than being just lazy. I felt extremely forlorn, and uninspired to do much of anything at all.
Sometime in the mid-afternoon I managed to detach myself from the living room couch. I walked into Jason's bedroom. His Siamese kitten was sleeping on the bed. She looks so peaceful and adorable... and look at that belly... I have to touch that soft little cat belly....
I snuggled in close and started to pet her. And then I, well, I... just started to cry. For no reason other than -- for everything. I was sad. So very sad. After effects, hitting me at a random time, a random place. It's hard now, but we'll get through this. We have to.
A couple of days later I came down with a cold. Then I was really miserable. I didn't see Jason that week, but we talked on the phone every day. After another getaway weekend in Woodstock, I felt better. I couldn't wait to see Jason again. It had been a whole eight days since I had seen him last.
We went to an amazing benefit concert at The Bottom Line. It was a free show for the community, hosted by local radio station WFUV, to raise our spirits and give us strength.
Musician after musician took to the stage and played two songs each throughout the evening. It was a remarkable outpouring of goodness and support. The great music and compassionate spirit from all made me feel like I was part of a special happening. When Jason and I left around midnight, I felt proud again to be a New Yorker.
We headed back to Jason's apartment. In bed, we started fooling around. I thought I was in the mood but I guess I wasn't. That happens from time to time. Not big deal. It wasn't a big deal until Jason said, "I feel like we're not connecting sexually."
Those words zinged right through me. What does one do, what does one say after being told such a thing?
Damn -- we'd had such a good night. Why did he have to go and ruin it?
I knew this was bad for our relationship. Very bad. Holding back tears, I turned away from him. Please, let me fall asleep soon.
Jason was sleeping when I was getting ready for work in the morning, so we didn't have a chance to discuss his comment from the night before. Before I left I bent down close, gave his shoulder a gentle touch, and whispered good-bye into his ear.
Since we began seeing each other Jason had called often, and thus I was spared from any "Boy doesn't call girl, girl wonders why" stressing. Yet when I left that morning, I had a feeling Jason wasn't going to call anytime soon. I was right.
Six days passed without a word from him. Each day I became more irked by his silence. After all the time we had spent together, and after all we had been through, if he could disappear the minute something didn't go exactly to his liking, how much could I possibly mean to him?
Maybe he could have walked away and called it a day, but I couldn't. I broke the silence. I called and said we needed to talk. We made a plan to meet the following Monday, a week since we had last seen each other.
I met Jason at his apartment. He said he was confused. "We have very different interests," he said. "I'm into politics and current events -- you're not. We're into different kinds of art. You're really into antiques -- I'm not. You like to go to Woodstock on weekends. I don't want to do that."
Yes, these things were true, but in my eyes they weren't relationship-breakers. (The Woodstock point was actually a big one, but if two people really want to be together they figure a way to work things out.) My reply: "We don't have to share every interest. That's why we have friends -- to round out the circle." After further discussion we agreed we didn't have to decide at that moment if we were going to be the be-all-end-all for each other. Sooner or later we would figure it out.
Next we went out to dinner, an activity we shared that was always enjoyable. Afterward Jason invited me back to his place to spend the night. Difficulties aside, I said yes. I was still attracted to him, more than just physically.
Speaking of which, I had been criticized in that area for my lackluster response level the last time we were together. I knew he couldn't be left thinking that again or else our relationship would really be over. So I made sure he wasn't. A little more ooohh-ing here and aaahh-ing there was all it took.
Before leaving for work in the morning we had another interlude, one where I made sure to act "accordingly." It worked -- he was pleased. But was I? Hardly. No one should have to act during sex. That's not what it's about.
When I got home from work I called Jason and told him it was over. "No, no," he said,
"You've got it all wrong. It's not about the sex at all. I care a lot about you -- I think you're a great person. I really like spending time with you. I want you to be a part of my life."
He continued to pour on the niceties. I guess I just needed to hear that he cared. We didn't break up. We decided to keep the date we had previously made to see a concert the next week.
A few days before our date, Tim was out of the office and I was bored at work. (I didn't write during downtime while working for Tim -- I didn't want that "distraction" to ever have a negative influence my work performance.) Seeking some mindless entertainment, I logged on to Matchmaker and started browsing the pics. Clicking from one picture to the next, all of a sudden Jason's picture appeared. He was an active Matchmaker member with a complete, updated profile. Bastard. So that's why he was losing interest!
When we started seeing each other I knew he had his profile on Match -- he offered that info to me in his first e-mail. After September 11th he didn't have Internet access for a month, during which time we saw a lot of each other. When his service got reinstated, we were getting along so well that I assumed his "Match days" were behind him. Finding out he was now on Matchmaker -- and also back on Match -- was a real blow.
Aren't I good enough? Does he think he's going to meet someone more interesting, funnier, prettier -- from these sites than me?
I kept our date, keeping mum all the while about my discovery. After the show we walked to the subway. When we reached the entrance Jason asked, "What do you want to do now?" The side of me craving affection wanted to go home with him, but my rational side reprimanded, Don't you dare.
"I think I'm going to go home."
As I walked to the subway platform alone, I knew I had to break up with him. And this time I wasn't going to let myself be convinced otherwise.
Jason didn't use his "You're so great, let's not break up" speech again. Maybe because this time he didn't want to save things. Whatever the case, we parted ways.
It was unfortunate that we had to break up, but more fortunate was that we were together during September 11th and for the extremely difficult weeks following the disaster. I wasn't alone during one of the very worst times to have been alone.
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