Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Facebook And My Ex

Not long after graduating college--after quitting my $5-an-hour job as an insurance agent's assistant and having to tell some poor woman with breast cancer that her medical insurer had dropped her--I waited tables at Ozzie's, an uptown eatery. I was waiting around to go to graduate school and had to do something. What I ended up doing was learning how to drink, and meeting my future husband. (An inauspicious combination?)

Brian was my cute lunch-time bartender. He had all-American good looks, was sweet, and a little on the shy side. We began dating and shortly thereafter moved into a house with two other co-workers. We spent the summer working, cooking out and partying. All and all, it was a good summer.

I was scheduled to leave for Santa Fe at the end of the summer. Since he wasn't doing all that great anyway, Brian decided not to go back to school and go with me. I knew it was too soon in the relationship to be making such a leap, but I was young, and scared, and was happy to have someone to move across the country with.

We got to Santa Fe in late August, but I wasn't scheduled to start class until the Spring semester. Brian and I both worked two part-time jobs at restaurants and hotels. We were homesick, overworked, and poor. It was a tough time for two kids in a new relationship and 1300 miles from anyone they knew.

It didn't take long for me to decide that I did not really like Santa Fe, did not really want to live there and, hence, did not want to go to graduate school there. Moving to the capital of the state, I expected a city. It wasn't what I expected and it wasn’t what I wanted. (Great place to visit, wouldn't want to live there.) We left the following year.

It was October of 1990 when we arrived in San Francisco, almost one year to the day of the 1989 earthquake. The economy was in the toilet, our rent was $800 for a one-bedroom apartment, and we only knew two people. But, San Francisco was spectacular and I loved it.

We spent the next few years living, working, and learning. We got married. We landed good jobs, finally making decent money. We discussed our future. We talked about the family we would have. We talked of moving back home so the kids could be near their grandparents; so our parents could be near our children. We were young, we were happy, and life was good. Or so I thought.

After dinner one evening, this conversation took place:

Me: I'm going to the doctor soon. I'm going to talk to her about going off the pill.

Brian: I don't want to have kids.

Me: (sure he's just kidding around) Then I'll go to the sperm bank.

Brian: I don't want to be a father.

Me: (disbelieving) What do you mean you don't want to be a father?

Brian: I just don't want to do it. I don't want to have kids.

Me: WTF have we been talking about for the last few years?

I'm sure there was more to the conversation than this, but considering my state of shock and the intervening years, this is pretty much how I remember it.

The next day, feeling like I was in one of those dreams where you're trying to get somewhere but, for the love of God, just can't, I made an appointment with a marriage counselor.

We met with the counselor within the next week or so. He asked why we were there. I said because my husband had changed his mind about having children and I didn't want to get a divorce. What did Brian say? Good question. I have no idea. I was there and I'm sure I heard him, but today I couldn't tell you what his answer was.

The counselor wanted to meet with us separately. I went back the following week and Brian went a few days later. As I write this I realize I don't remember a lot of what happened or what was said during those stressful and confusing days, but I do remember what Brian said when he returned from his solo meeting with the counselor. He said, "I'm not going back." I understood this to mean "I don't care enough about this marriage to work on it, so, eh, whatever." He did not disabuse me of this understanding.

The next few months were some of the worst I've ever lived through. Brian got laid off, I began taking note of the cute attorney at work that had started flirting with me, I never wanted to go home, and I wanted to shoot myself. On the upside, I lost a lot of weight on the vodka/chocolate diet and was really skinny.

Brian left our apartment the morning of March 3, 1995. From the kitchen window, I watched him hurry across the street to catch a cab to the airport in the pouring rain. I haven't seen him since.

My friends and I have had many conversations wondering exactly how the demise of my marriage came about. We never came up with any answers, but we did come up with a few speculations. I speculated that Brian simply fell out of love with me. He didn't want to be married to me any more. He wanted out. He knew telling me he didn't want to have children would end our marriage. More than a few friends speculated he was gay. Well, that would explain it, wouldn't it.

For many years I didn't want to know what became of him. I was terrified to find out that he was married with children. But time went on and the prevalence of the internet made it so easy to peek into others' lives. It took me a long time, but eventually I Googled him. I didn't find anything except that he probably lived in Cleveland at one point.

Now I have a Facebook account and I've clicked the "Find Friends" button on more than one occasion. Did I ever type in my ex's name? You bet I did. I didn't find him. I did, however, find his sister. I contemplated the wisdom of sending her a message and, in the end, couldn't help myself.

It was a short message briefly filling her in on the last decade of my life. I told her I often wondered how her family was, wished them all the best, and asked for an update, if she was so inclined. That was over two weeks ago. Apparently, she is not so inclined.

So, here I sit--still wondering what happened to my marriage, if my ex has children, if he's gay. Allen says it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. But now, after so many years and finally feeling like I could hear the news no matter what it is; I really want to know.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Neener Neener Neener