One night at a bar in Hollywood, I was hanging out with a guy friend of mine from high school and we ran into a group of random dudes playing pool.
They were all pretty cute and punk rock and I was never one to turn down a guy that I couldn’t take home to Mom and Dad.
I started hanging out with the group of them (turns out they all lived together) and long story short, the night ended in me and some of my girlfriends hanging out at their house in Northridge. It was fine, nothing to report, we just made fools of ourselves playing air guitar to Green Day and one of the guys was totally enamored by my ability to lip sync to all the words to “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”, as he should have been! I nailed it!
Brodie, I’ll call him, was also in a punk rock band….the name is super cheesy and I won’t even tell you what it was because it is so embarrassing. Why should I be embarrassed? It wasn’t my band….but I actually NAMED THE BAND! (insert forehead slap here)
He did everything right. He was romantic, he was thoughtful, he brought his mom and sister in to my restaurant to meet me (total surprise), he would drive an hour in traffic to visit me, he wanted to wait until we were serious before we got too physical.
His attention was so fulfilling. He gave me butterflies of excitement and made me feel sexy and beautiful and cool and desired. I was addicted to that crack.
The relationship came to a head when he got a job as a bartender and started hanging out with girls from work. I knew he was so charming that all the girls would want him and there was no way I could compete. I would see photos of him and these girls on MySpace (yup, that’s right, I am THAT old), partying it up, laying on top of each other in a drunken stupor.
I became convinced he was cheating. Of course he was. Most of the others had done it to me. I knew he was capable of it since his last relationship overlapped the one we had….so, there was 100% no doubt about it.
So, I went into self-protection mode. I began to let him fade away in my heart and in my life. He didn’t know I was doing it. I didn’t bother to talk to him about it. I just went ahead and began slowly, privately, trying to get over him.
Only I knew the old pattern was beginning once again.