Middle of the Anna Story (and some other stuff)
August 24, 2002, 10:31 a.m.

Know what? I've changed my mind. I don't think this is in the least interesting to my imaginary fan club. Guess it's a good thing that they're imaginary, huh? I still need to finish writing all the stuff about Anna. Everything I can think of so that I can give it up to God and...figure out what I need to do with Anthony.

So, I moved out to California and ended up bouncing from place to place--largely because I didn't focus on making the best of things w/my roommates, I just focused on Anthony. I moved 6 times in 12 months, counting the move from Colorado to California. I wasn't kidding when I said I bounced around.

I guess really, the next important bit, after me moving out to California, is that a couple months later we ended up sleeping together. Which was horrible. Yes, I do mean my first time was awful. He was inconsiderate and it was very painful and...just generally sucked. So, aside from the practical side of it, I have never felt so guilty in my life. I hadn't been a Christian for very long, but I knew, very well, that this wasn't what was supposed to happen. I ended up crying between the pain and the guilt, and Anthony just...walked out of the room. Yes, that's right, he WALKED OUT OF THE ROOM!

(There is a semi-rational explanation for this. His previous girlfriend, Hahn, who he had dated for 6 years off and on had used tears as a means of manipulation. He finally couldn't deal with it anymore and started walking out of the room when they were fighting every time she turned on the tears. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure sometimes they were genuine, but...I've met the girl and she IS manipulative and selfish. So...I'm left with the legacy of that, and I can count the number of times Anthony's held me while I cried on one hand.)

What, you may be asking, does this have to do with the Anna story? I guess nothing in particular...just...after the comment he made about having too much respect for Anna to sleep with her, I figured some background info on how we first started would be appropriate. Besides, what difference does it really make??? I'm busy ranting about all the things I've been holding inside that HURT! So...this is one of them, and one of the ones that I've talked about least. I needed to do that.

Anyway, things got better after that, we talked, and he explained why he'd left and I explained that I wanted to be held when I cry and...eventually, one thing led to another again and...the sex got better, and the guilt got worse. Off an on, we would try to stop sleeping together. And we'd end up hurting each other. And it got to the point where we didn't (and sometimes I think still don't) know how to comfort each other without sex. Which started things all over again. (Yes, I'm fully aware that I'm leaving sentence fragments scattered behind me like broken glass, but it's easier on me right now, so bugger off about it.)

This was the beginning of November. (The 11th to be exact...On a side note, it seems strange that dates are so important to me, now...they've never been before...) Then toward the end of November, Anthony tells me he's going to visit Anna. He just forgot to tell me that the plans have been in place for quite a while and the plane tickets were already bought prior to...what, us starting to date in September? Or prior to me moving out to California? Or prior to us having sex? I don't know. I didn't question it at the time. He told me that he'd already bought them and it never occurred to me to really think about it. For Thanksgiving, by the way, which meant that I'd spend Thanksgiving alone, having to explain to my family that Anthony was out of town seeing some other girl. Yeah...that was less than fun. My grandmother set up a dinner that placed me in close proximity to an intern she had at her work. (He lived in Canada and had no family in the area and, "He can't spend the holiday alone!" And there is no arguing with my grandmother when it comes to things like that. I don't think he particularly minded. Even though, my understanding, at least, is that they don't particularly celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada, seeing as how it's primarily an American holiday, but that's beside the point.) Anthony thinks, and I sometimes wonder, if she set it up on purpose for us to hit it off. He was very nice (incidentally, physically he was completely my type), very good looking, great around Christy (my then-4-year-old cousin), and had a great sense of humor. So, we got along very well. We ended up hanging out quite a bit that week that Anthony was gone, even though I didn't have a car at the time and neither did he, so everything was via bus. We went out one evening--and no, I didn't consider it a date until he bought me flowers--hung out, went to??? What? I don't even remember. I distinctly remember getting off at the light rail station and seeing him there looking very good. (Did I mention that he was a terrible flirt?) We hung out, walked around down town San Jose, went to a Starbuck's and talked for ages. He asked if I wanted to come see the apartment he was sharing w/2 other interns. (No, this isn't leading where it looks like, don't worry.) So I said sure and as we were heading back to the bus is when he bought me the flowers and I started to be a little concerned. Still went over, though, as he assured me that his 2 roomies would be there and we were just going to visit. (Incidentally, I accepted the flowers, because I wasn't quite sure what else to do. Throw them back at him and say no? I guess that would have been the best thing for my conscience, but...well, I didn't.) We hung out and talked for ages, I got to know his roomies a little bit. I finally looked at a clock and realized that it was something like 2 am. And that the buses had stopped running about an hour earlier. I looked at Jon and saw the grin on his face and realized he'd done it on purpose, kept me distracted w/music and chatter until it was too late. None of them had cars, neither did I, and I wasn't about to call my Grandmother at 2 am and ask her to pick me up from her intern's apartment. No way. So I ended up staying the night in his bedroom, he stayed (like a gentleman) in the living room. Door was locked. I woke up early and we talked some more, goofed around, wrestled (honestly, I had no intention of it turning out like that) and I ended up straddling him. (Yes, all clothes WERE on!) All of a sudden it wasn't just goofing around anymore. You know those moments, when everything seems to slow down for a split second and you realize how hard you're breathing, when you become hyper-aware of everything around you, tastes, textures, smells... And the sudden turn toward the sensual where a moment before had really been nothing more than child's play. Tempting...but he made some comment and it broke the spell and I scooted away and he stayed where he was and I went over to the other side of the room and we talked some more.

So, nothing ever really happened. We're still friends. (Jon, by the way, is engaged to a girl up in Canada, and probably won't be coming back to SJ or even California ever, except, possibly on a vacation.)

When Anthony came back from visiting Anna, I told him excerpts. That we'd gone out to hang out one evening, that he'd been at my Grandmother's for Thanksgiving dinner, that Jon was my type (how stupid was THAT!) and Anthony twisted everything. Between my sense of guilt and his determination to see it as much worse than it was, I ended up feeling guilty for so long, I never really found out much of anything about his trip to see Anna. Which later made me incredibly suspicious. Why was he so busy playing on my guilt? It made me feel like he was covering his own. Going on and on about how I must have done something to provoke it and MAKE Jon like me. (Is it just me, or is there a recurring theme here?)

Then, around Christmas, we decided to go out to Colorado, primarily to see my friends and family. Anna, coincidentally, just HAPPENED to be out there at the same time. (Did I mention that she lived in Minnesota by this time??) I don't know. I have no idea if she planned it or... maybe it really was just coincidence. I mean, it was the holidays and all. It's not like going back home to see friends and family isn't very common. It's just...hard to buy when she just "happens" to be there at the same time so frequently.

Let me preface this trip by saying it sucked, royally, big time and in short, I would have been better off not having taken it. Anthony, at least, had the courtesy to let me know before-hand that Anna would be out there at the same time and that he would like to see her. I deliberately misinterpreted the "I" as "we" and told him that I'd like to meet her and that we should arrange to have dinner one of the evenings we were in Denver. It was arranged.

La-de-dah, everything was going along, relatively smoothly, as planned until we're in Denver, staying with my best friend Liz, and it's the night we're supposed to meet Anna. Liz came along for moral support. Lo and behold, we meet her and have dinner, and I have this sneaking suspicion that he hasn't told Anna that we're dating. I wait for a break in the conversation, when Anna leaves, and ask him. He admits that he hasn't told her we're dating yet.

"What do you mean, you haven't told her yet??? We've been seeing each other regularly for the last 4 months!!! How can you have not told her 'yet'???"

"Well," he hurriedly explains, glancing up to see if the goddess is returning from powdering her nose yet, "I wanted to tell her in person."

"In person," I repeat. (In case we've forgotten, let's have a brief refresher course. Where did Anthony go for Thanksgiving??? That's right!! To see Anna. By himself. In Minnesota. And I was never given any information about what occurred while he was gone. Why couldn't he have spoken with her THEN???)

He flushes, looks up again and the relief is apparent on his face for a brief second. "Look, she's coming back. Please, just let me do this my way. I'll tell her, I just don't want it to be in public."

Right. So, we continue on with dinner as I struggle not to cry and decide that I've found my dinner absolutely fascinating. How could something look so flavorful and taste like sawdust? Anna and Anthony carry on chatting as if nothing is wrong. My best friend is at the table and she picks up on my distress but joins in on the conversation, doing what she can to get me to say more than a couple syllables. By the end of the dinner, I'm managing to behave almost normally. Enough so, that Liz, without thinking, decides to prolong the torture.

"Let's go play pool."

Anthony and Anna voice immediate assent. Which leaves only me to say yea or nay. "Sure," I reply casually, offhandedly. Liz and I are in the same car--by ourselves, because Anthony and Anna have gone in her car.

"What were you thinking?" I hiss at her, as we walk.

"I'm sorry!" she says. She truly appears contrite. "I just didn't think about it. We were having a nice time and I hate to go in early. I just...didn't think about it."

So, I forgive her. (Of course. What else do you do with best friends?) She lets me rant and rave about how hurt I am and how much this night has sucked and will continue to suck until Anna is gone and Anthony quits loving her. This, I know, will never happen, but it makes me feel better to say that it might. We finish the drive.

We're at the pool hall. It's a 45 minute wait for any of the tables. Ah, someone has come to my rescue. Thank you, Lord!

"There's a coffee place that's a bookshop across the street."

My head swivels of its own volition to glare daggers at my best friend. I know the look on her face. She really didn't mean to, but it's done.

"Do you want to?" Anthony asks the goddess.

"Sounds great!" she enthuses.

We go. I don't recall anyone asking MY opinion on this! Doesn't seem to matter. I'm close to bursting--into tears or expletives, I'm not certain. We order drinks, and Liz and I go browse through books that I'm not really looking at as I cry and sniffle a little bit. She apologizes again. Profusely. I tell her I understand, but that this night is killing me. She hugs me and lets me rest my head on her shoulder for a little more of a cry. We go to the bathroom so I can try to erase the proof of my emotions. By the time we get back to the table, I'm feeling as if I can continue acting nearly normal. I also figure, they've had several chances to be by themselves, once in her car which DEFINITELY does not qualify as public, and in the cafe where no one was really listening or paying attention to anyone else.

They're sitting too close together. Whoa, hold your horses, girl. He was probably explaining to her about us dating, and that's the kind of conversation you want to keep quiet, that's all. Right. See any flying pigs?

He scoots away from her when he sees me. She looks up and smiles. We indulge in inane chatter for another 20 minutes or so and go back to the pool hall. We have to wait another 10 minutes or so, even though we took about an hour over at the coffee/book store. I stare at the walls, the other tables, the purse next to me, anywhere but at Anthony and Anna and my best friend who is putting me through hell. To tell the truth, I don't have a very clear recollection of what Anna looks like. I remember thinking that she wasn't as pretty in real life as she was in the picture, but not much more than that.

We make it through one game of pool before I can take it no longer. Anthony and Anna are on a team and Liz and I are on a team. I'm playing badly. And when I say badly, I mean beyond belief badly. I never made a single ball into a single pocket all night long. Not one. And I never once, through that whole night, did I manage to actually hit a single ball I was aiming for. My concentration had been shot, my emotions were rampaging through my body going from grief to hurt to anger to fear to wanting everything to be normal, and my boyfriend of 4 months was not-quite flirting with some other girl. And not just ANY girl, oh no, it was the one he was madly in love with and had been madly in love with, a girl who was, apparently, completely unaware that my boyfriend WAS my boyfriend.

Her Highness left to get a drink and I went over to Anthony. "You haven't told her." It wasn't a question.

"No, not yet," he tells me, and starts on some line of crap trying to placate me.

I lost it. I started crying. I turned around and left the room, went completely outside (and let me tell you, Denver in December with no jacket at about 1 am is no picnic!) and just started bawling, huge heaving sobs which no self-respecting person would allow in public. I can't help it, they just keep coming, and I feel like someone is stabbing daggers into my gut and my heart and my head. I just wish the person would do it right and be done with the whole damn thing instead of making it hurt so much. But the daggers aren't real and the pain is and I have to deal with it. I slowly calm. I keep waiting for him to come outside behind me. The door opens. I don't turn around. I know what I look like. My face is red and splotchy, I have tears (and probably snot) on my face, my nose is swollen and red and my eyes are almost frozen shut. I relax. He came. He's going to hold me and it will all be better.

The voice shatters my illusions and my facade of calm. "Hon, come on in. Everyone knows you're crying, you might as well come on inside." It's Liz. I feel betrayed. I start crying again. Anthony should be the one coming out to comfort me, to give me a hug and lead me to the bathroom to wash off my face and try to repair...ah, hell, what's the point in trying to repair anything? My face is a mess, it's going to remain a mess for at least an hour. (Trust me, I've cried like this before. I know.)

I take about another 15 minutes to calm down and wish away the swelling and the redness. It doesn't do any good. The longer I stay in there, the more I want to curl up on the floor and cry. And curling up on this floor is... disgusting. This isn't the greatest place I've ever been.

So, I gather up the tatters of my courage and pride and go out there, figuring that I still have a couple of hours to pretend like my boyfriend isn't my boyfriend and continue ripping my heart to shreds.

Anthony tries to give me advice on how to play. I deliberately ignore him and miss the shot. (Well, I can't say I deliberately missed the shot, seeing as how I'd been doing that all night...) He comes over the next time and stands behind me, tries to reposition my arms. I shake him off and face him directly, where the goddess can't see me. I glare my hurt and my anger and "Fuck you" at him. He backs away. I turn around and calmly miss my shot. I move around to the opposite side of the table. He comes and stands next to me. I edge away, and he finally grabs my arm and hisses in my ear.

"I told her, okay? Now knock it off." Or something to that effect.

I glance at Anna. She does seem a little...sad? Upset? I'm not certain. I look back to Anthony. "This doesn't FIX everything," I warn him.

I continue to play horribly. Anthony quits giving advice or trying to come near me. The evening ends, and we discuss exchanging gifts. (Remember, it's Christmas-time?) Well, Anna's gifts are back at Liz's apartment, so we decide to go back there to get them and exchange gifts up there. (Giving the goddess the opportunity to leave her purse behind for Anthony to return on the morrow. Does this seem calculated to anyone else??? We, of course, don't realize she's left her purse until she's midway to Ft. Collins.) I struggle through the gifts and Anthony being cold to me. He walks her out. I cry all over Liz.

He finally comes back up and says, "I hope you're satisfied. Because you couldn't hold back your emotions for ONE night, she's hurt! I've only seen her cry once before and she's driving home right now crying."

I hate him. I hate myself. "I'm sorry," I say. (What? What the hell is this shit? Why are you apologizing to HIM??? He fucked up, not you. He had 4 months and ample opportunity to tell her and never did. What about the night of hell I just endured? Don't I count for anything? Evidently not when the goddess has been upset.)

It goes down hill from there. Liz retreats. Anthony and I argue--or, more precisely, Anthony berates me for my lack of control, tact, etc. At one point, I do say that he could have told her. He reiterates that he wanted to tell her in person. I'm such a mess by this point that I can't even remember that he's had the trip out to see her at Thanksgiving, a chance in the car as we were going over to the pool hall, and a chance in the cafe to tell her in person. He didn't until I, essentially, forced his hand when he had to explain why I'd run outside crying.

To this day, I don't think he'd have told her if things had turned out differently, if I'd "controlled" myself through that night. "But you don't understand. If I tell her we're dating, I'll lose her forever." Why the hell didn't I just break up with him then???

I don't know. Oh, last bit for this entry. (Like it isn't long enough already!) The next day is our last day in Colorado. We go back to my parents' house for final good-byes. The purse has been discovered at some point as we left Liz's house. Someone called someone, I don't even remember who anymore. I doubt I could have told you 10 minutes after the phone call. He goes up to Ft. Collins to return the purse. Alone. "We need to talk some things out. It won't work if you're there."

"Ok," I meekly reply. "But," I continue, starting to gather courage, "we're having dinner at 6. PLEASE make sure you're back by 5:30 so that it doesn't seem like you're only here to eat."

"He tells me that, of course, he'll be back long before then. It's a 45 minute drive to Ft. Collins and a 45 minute drive back. An hour and a half travel time, it's only 11 in the morning, no problem.

He didn't make it back until 6:30. Did I mention that I would have been better off not taking this trip?

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