The Chemical Formula for Drama - Part III (of a way too long series)

Our heroine was at a loss as to how to explain to this man exactly how his failure to show and share his emotions affected her; she only knew that it did, and deeply. "It affects me because its a huge part of you that I don't get to see. It affects me because I have no idea what's going on in your head, what you're thinking and feeling and that hurts!" She knew this was not an explanation, but rather a statement of her position, yet this was one of those times where words seemed wholly inadequate and empty amidst the surge of feelings. "But I'm not responsible for your feelings. I may be sorry you feel that way and I may not like it, but I'm not responsible for causing those feelings." "I never said you were." "Yes you did, you just said that this is how you feel and its because of me. I have no power over your emotions. I can neither cause or change how you feel. I'm sorry that you had some idea in your head as to how you wanted me to be after not seeing you for a week and that I failed to live up to your expectations." Whoah, what was this? An acknowledgement of sorts as to what happened that evening, albeit a defensive one."I understand fully and do agree that we are all responsible for and in control of our own emotions, but certain actions have a cause and effect thing that happens as a result. And I'm just saying if you know I'm feeling like you didn't miss me, you may not be able to take away that feeling, but what you can do is tell me that you did miss me. Tell me that I am important to you." "Sure I could do that, but then there will just be something else that comes along."

At this point she is tired and at a total loss as to how to bridge this communication chasm (for it seems much broader than a mere gap). She sits silently for a moment, as the energy, fight, and heightened emotional surge drains completely from her body. He quietly says "I have never treated you badly. I may have a hard time showing my feelings, but I don't treat you badly." She looks into his eyes and sees an expression she has never seen before. It is fleeting, but undeniably there. Hurt? Fear? She does not know how to read the cryptic clues into the murky waters of his carefully hidden emotional territory; she only knows this is something new. "Please don't go home. Please stay. Please go wash your face and brush your teeth and come to bed. Please stay. I want you to stay." The voice is ever so slightly different as well, muted and strained as if poured through an esophegal collander. It is still quick and urgent, but the tone is different. She retreats to the bathroom once more, as it has become a base camp of sorts where she can check in with herself, catalogue her wounds, take stock of her forces and decide what the next move may be.

He clearly and undeniably showed something there at the end of the conversation. He was at least trying to share in some way, this she knows in the very depth of her womanly intuition. He allowed just a moment of vulnerability to creep in and he allowed himself to reveal that he wanted, he needed her to stay. She could not leave at this point, nor did she want to. The conversation was nowhere near its completion; it had barely begun. But the door was open, even if just a crack. She knows they must both sit in this new space that has been created, and figure out where to go from here. But she also knows thaht leaving, at this point, would be a mistake for both of them.

Many years before, when she knew nothing of love and only of sex, power, violation, and self protection her best friend was navigating her way through her first young love and first young love break-up. She remembers so vividly (the best friend was wearing a ribbed burgundy sweater) the best friend telling her that she wanted to be someone worth fighting for. She feels like in this confusing melee of emotion and misperception and defensiveness on all sides, the moment the boyfriend asked her to please please stay, he was saying that she was worth fighting for and that he did not want to let her go. She feels like her decision to stay signals the same on her part. She takes one more look in the mirror, as if to check in with her reflection one last time to make sure she is doing what she truly wants to do and not what she thinks someone else wants her to do (she has been doing a lot of that sort of checking in as of late). The reflection confirms her decision and she turns off the light for the last time that night.

She disrobes rather hastily, trying to avoid his noticing the sexy undergarments that are now an emphatic punctuation of her expectations for the evening, but all of his attention is now focused on her and of course he notices and makes an appropriate fuss which she feels is too little too late. She climbs into the warm bed, where he is waiting with his arms open, and she folds her body into his, finding the familiar nooks and niches where they have learned to fit their bodies together. He wraps his arms around her and says "I did miss you and I am very happy to see you." She can solidly feel that perhaps they are not going to listen to the radio and fall asleep, but she does not want a forced gesture and says "I don't want pity sex. That's insulting." "Its not pity sex at all." "That's what it feels like." "Well its not. I was trying to think of a sincere and sexy way to tell you you are wanted."

Afterwards the couple lay in eachothers arms, still holding on tightly for a very long time. Even after he fell asleep, the boyfriend was holding on tightly to her as he snored and would pull her back and sleep-whimper when she went to pull away. She wondered why he could clearly demonstrate his need in his sleep, but had such difficulty admitting to it in the waking hours. It was as if his muscles could only express in sleep what his mind held in check when awake.

The next morning he left before she did (she being quite sluggish in the morning hours by nature) to go take care of things at the office. She took her time getting ready and taking stock of where she was and resolving to continue the dialogue that was begun but not resolved. She phoned the boyfriend when she was leaving, to let him know that he needed to come home and lock the apartment; he was with a patient and had to put her on hold for a brief moment. When he came back on the line, he asked her how she was doing that morning. "Umm, i'm okay. How are you?" "Are you still mad at me?" Mad? Did he think this was really about anger? "I'm not mad at you...its not about being mad. Its a lot more complicated than that...way more. And...aren't you with a patient right now?" "Yes, but its okay, they're in the other room." "Listen, go deal with your patient, okay?" "Okay, I'll call you later?"

She did not speak with him that evening, despite the text message imploring her to let him know when she arrived at home. She needed to process and sort things out and drink copious amounts of wine with her girlfriends while they bandied about terms and phrases like "bastards!" and "what's wrong with them?" and "they don't get it!" in overly emphatic and high pitched tones. She needed to hear how she was unconditionally right and he was unconditionally wrong. She resolved and unresolved a million times that day to break up with him. Better now than a year and a half later right?

The next day she went to see her therapist, ready to collectively speak indignantly and to proudly display how bravely she stood up for herself. She described the whole scenario in detail and finished with her tale, eyes sparkling defiantly and head cocked proudly to show how she was not a woman who would put up with anything. Her therapist quietly, methodically, and supportively took her down a few notches, pointing out the mistakes she percieved in the handling of the situation. Our heroine was shocked to the core, expecting something entirely different than the lovingly gilded mirror being held up to her face. She was so afraid of reliving past indignities that she was creating them where they weren't. She was re-enacting past relationships with manipulative lovers, brothers, and fathers and dealing with everything but the present. She also was not approaching the discussions with the boyfriend from a point of love, but rather from a point of self protectiveness, and was so eager to stave off impending doom and attack that might never come that she was not approaching things from the point of the two of them could grow from this.

Our heroine still has much to learn about relationships, but had to concede the point that in love, one should approach from a perspective of growth and collective learning. She had to concede that she had never stated her needs up to that point and had been relatively lax in the communication department up until that point. So she called the boyfriend, and they made plans to have a much needed talk.

TO BE CONTINUED IN WHAT WILL BE THE EPILOGUE...