Dear Sars,

This is a long story that I’ll sincerely do my best to keep short but well, we’ll see how it goes.

So it’s a boy problem, natch. Nutshell: I loved him, he liked me. Friendship + great chemistry + mixed signals + overdeveloped sense of romantic loyalty (read: stupidity) on my part + jerky I-don’t-want-to-hurt-you-but-I-like-having-you-in-my-back-pocket-just-in-case attitude on his part = years of emotional sturm und drang (mostly on my part). Now, it’s easy to see that the good part of that equation is Friendship — we were great friends. It was that rare form of interpersonal clicking — where personalities both matched and complemented each other in all the right ways. And that’s what I can’t seem to let go and what others who know the whole story else don’t seem to factor in at all.

But I’m jumping ahead a bit — he’s done some shitty things to me and I’ve been an emotional albatross at times but we are both pretty skilled when it comes to ignoring stuff we ought to talk about and just get out in the open and out of the way. I know that for me that avoidance stemmed from not wanting to rock the boat and lose my best friend (not to mention that tiny spark of hope I nursed for so long). I honestly don’t know what his deal was because in every other way he’s a take charge and confront it kind of guy.

Anyway — after an embarrassingly long time I got over it. I got over this idea that we were meant to be, that it was fate and that I would get my way. This was tough because I’m not a quitter and somewhere along the way it became something I had to WIN. Or rather, something I had to not fail at.

It helped that we were geographically far apart. Our closeness and contact waxed and waned as life demanded but even during those times we didn’t talk often, the connection remained. In 2000, he moved back to the states after several years in France. He landed in NYC and our bi-monthly chats quickly accelerated into almost daily emails and phone calls. (I’m on the West Coast.) Things were good. I felt like we were finally in a good, honest, healthy place for both of us. Can you see the trouble looming or what?

In August-ish 2001 he moved from NYC to Chicago. The company he worked for had been located in the World Trade Center but was shifting its base of operations. On September 11th only a skeleton crew remained and due to the boss being on vacation, they all chose that day to come in late. So luckily none of his colleagues were killed that day. But he changed after that — I think he felt he should have been there, should have even died that day. (He always, always, went in early and they were located on the upper floors of the south tower.) Of course he wouldn’t talk about it but like I said he changed. A lot. Got cold. Got mean.

I figured it was a more intense reaction to what most of us felt after that day. I mean, I was no ball of sunshine and laughter either. Nobody was. I figured, some space, some time and things would regain an even keel. Cut to Christmas of that year — I was flying home and had a long layover in Chicago. I jokingly suggested we get together at the airport for coffee or something. To my surprise he agreed. We figured out a plan involving his cell phone and my pink hat. Great. Well, the weather wasn’t very cooperative and before I left I told him maybe it wasn’t such a great idea for him to drive though a blizzard just to hang out with me at the airport for a few hours. He insisted it wasn’t a problem and that he was a daredevil anyway.

When I got to Chicago, I called his phone — per the plan — and got his voicemail. No big, I left a message and found a place outside the security area where we could meet. I called again. Again voicemail. I explained where I was and that I’d call back. I hunkered down with my book and waited. And waited. After a few more calls and voicemail messages I started to worry he had had a car accident or something equally awful. I left one more message, explaining my concerns and urging him to call me at my folks’ place to assure me that I had not bought about his untimely demise or paralyzation.

Well, I figured there would be a message waiting for me when I landed. Wrong. To try (harder, some more) to make this concise, he never called or emailed me with an explanation. I got mad and decided to see how long it would take for me to call me back and tell me what happened. Roughly three weeks later and I cracked and called him. He answered like there was nothing wrong and why was I freaking out anyway? The weather was bad, he’d been drunk the night before, he didn’t feel like driving out to the airport. Fine, but why not LET ME KNOW?

We got into it — me coming from the position that he wouldn’t treat a co-worker or acquaintance like this why in the world was it okay for him to do it to one of his best, and oldest friends? His position seemed to be: what’s the big deal? I stood by my guns (and still do) that friends don’t treat friends like that. You just don’t. He responded that we either were friends or we weren’t and that I should quit being such a martyr. I agreed that I was sick of that role as well and that I wanted an apology and that the ball was in his court.

Two and a half years later and I still hadn’t heard from him. I’m still angry but I miss him. I can’t help but think that this is stupid reason to lose such a good friend after we’d gone through so much. So on Thanksgiving 2004, I send a very short email that said: “You turkey. How are you?”

A few days (maybe a week) later I get back an equally short email saying his grandma had been in the hospital on Thanksgiving and how was I? I wrote back, kept it short but friendly if a little frosty. Didn’t hear from him again.

Until this weekend that is. This weekend he calls and leaves me a totally casual voicemail saying I should call him. I’m flabbergasted. I want to call, but. And of course my friends think he’s a jackass and that I should not, under any circumstances, call him back ever, even if I am on fire and am bleeding from the eyeballs and only he can save me. They may be right. But I still have this impulse. I want my friend back. I think old friends are important. I’m not a grudge holder. But I don’t want to be a chump either. God, I really don’t want to be a chump. Your thoughts are appreciated.

I’d still like a side of apology with my old best friend please

Ladies and gents, I’d like to sing a little song for you tonight…[piano run]…thank you, thank you. I’d like to sing a song for you, and if you know the words, you can sing along out there…it’s called “Friendships Have A Lifespan.”

Not to make overly light of this; I’m on four hours’ sleep. My point stands, though: friendships have a lifespan. This friendship may have reached the end of its lifespan, and I think you have to ask yourself whether it’s really his friendship you want — since 1) he doesn’t seem particularly interested in offering it, and 2) what he’s offered, historically, isn’t satisfying for you — or whether you want him to validate you with that friendship. Because from the sounds of things, it’s the latter. You said it yourself; you want to win, I think. You want to succeed. It’s less about him than it is about you.

So, I think you have to try to untangle, in an honest-with-yourself way, what it is you want from the guy, and once you’ve done that, I think you need to understand that, even if you really do sincerely miss his company and it’s not entirely about him signing off on your worth by acting like a good friend, it still may not happen. Just because someone has acted like a good friend in the past, and should act like a good friend now, doesn’t mean they will, or can, and there does come a point with certain people in your life where you’ve shared a lot of good and bad times, you’ve gone through a lot together, and you’ll always treasure the memories, but…that’s about it. You can’t rely on them anymore; you don’t like certain things about them; whatever. I have friends like that. I think we all do. I see them for beers now and then, we get caught up, we laugh about the dumb shit we did back in the day, but if a dime needs dropping in an emergency, it’s getting dropped on someone else.

It’s sad, but it’s a part of life. Whether it’s the case here, I can’t say, but I do think you need to prepare yourself better for the possibility that it is, because he didn’t do anything that bad; he’s not unforgivable. But he’s not the friend you want him to be, either, and maybe it’s time to acknowledge that and move on.

Sars,

I never thought I’d actually write to you with a Vine question, but I’ve kind of exhausted all other resources (okay, well, except for couples therapy — but let’s leave that as a last resort, shall we?). And, while I know you aren’t Dr. Ruth, I thought that since you have such great advice in general on such an array of topics, I’d see if you’d take a crack at mine…

The deal is this: My boyfriend and I have been together for almost two years, and have been friends for almost four. We have so much fun together and things are wonderful between us; we’re actually planning on getting engaged soon. I love him more every day and he makes me very happy! But.

He has almost no sex drive whatsoever. I, on the other hand, have quite an active one. Right now, we have sex about once every one or two weeks (as we always have). Even as I write this, seeing the words on the screen make me so upset. Ideally, I would like to have sex every few days — not scheduled, mind you — but on a much more consistent basis.

I hate that every time I initiate intimacy, he rejects me outright and gets irritated that I’m trying to initate something that he’s not in the mood for. We only have sex after I’ve practically begged for days and he gives in. We’ve talked about this and he knows how frustrated, upset, and hurt that it makes me when he rejects my advances and will only initiate things himself every few weeks. I’ve tried everything I can think of — dressing in lingerie, incorporating toys/foods/other lame Cosmo-type objects, talking dirty (which I really enjoy anyway), being submissive, being dominant, being normal, et cetera. Creative — you get it.

He says that he simply has a very low sex drive, always have, and always will. He once went for three years during university without having sex. It is simply NOT important to him. It is to me, though, and it seriously pains me that he won’t try to work on it with me. Something that bothers me, as an aside, is that I know he looks at pornography almost daily. I don’t care if he looks at porn — so do I sometimes — but the idea that he “enjoys” himself with porn but not with me is annoying.

I consider myself to be intelligent, fun, attractive, and very in touch with myself sexually. I’ve been told that I’m quite good in bed, and my boyfriend always seems to greatly enjoy the sex during the act itself. However, there is almost no foreplay, and once the sex is over, he wants to go to the bathroom immediately to clean up and then go on about his business. I suppose I should also point out that he HATES to kiss (even though I think that he and I are both quite gifted kissers) or hug, and doesn’t like traditional physical affection, outside of holding hands and cuddling on the couch. Yeah, I know. It’s almost like seventh grade all over again.

What is going on here? I am starting to get actual, physical, almost depressing cravings for sex. How can every other aspect of our relationship be so great, while this one is on life support? Am I doing something wrong by being too demanding? What can I do to have a happy, healthy sexual relationship with my boyfriend? I can’t bear the idea of a marriage with no sex…

Sign me,
No Signature Will Ever Beat “Ass Dreads”

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Dear True Dat,

Ay yi yi. Okay, first: do not get engaged until the two of you get this figured out. And if “figured out” means you break up, trust me, that’s preferable, because this is a serious issue, and you cannot go into a marriage with this kind of disparity in physical intimacy.

See above re: sleep deprivation, so I’m probably not going to couch this as gently as I could, but…something about your boyfriend’s approach here is…wrong. It’s just off. He’s not into kissing or hugging; he’s not into foreplay; he’s not into sex with you, only fantasy sex with porn “ideals” — he has a pathology, I think, and it’s not that he’s a bad person. He just can’t relate sexually to an actual woman on some level, I don’t think, and maybe he has reasons for that and maybe it just is, but it’s not healthy — for you. I guess it’s fine for him, and if you didn’t so much care about having sex more often, hey, whatever works for you guys.

But you do care about that, and he doesn’t, so much, and I think you have to tell him, again, that you can’t live like this — that it hurts your feelings that he gets off with porn but won’t smooch with you, that you’re sick of having this discussion again and again, and that you want to go to couples counseling, and if he doesn’t go, you’re out. Because you both need therapy, I think, and he really needs it on his own to figure out why he’s got sex and emotional intimacy compartmentalized so rigidly, because…it’s fucked up, kind of, and again, I don’t think he’s a serial killer or anything, but that doesn’t mean it’s the kind of Chinese water torture of the ego you want to set yourself up for more of.

Maybe this is just him, and you can’t change him, and if that’s the case, I really think you should leave, because it’s not going to get any better. If he agrees to go to counseling, try it for a set period and see how it goes; see if he doesn’t come around a little bit. But if he doesn’t…he doesn’t, and won’t, and you should accept that he won’t, and break up with him. Yeah, he’s great in lots of other ways, but we’re not talking about a difference of opinion on how to hang the toilet paper. You have to harangue him into having sex with you. No good. Require that he deal with it, or walk.

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Oh wise Sars,

My boyfriend and I dated for a little over two years. We had been living together for a year until about eight weeks ago when I asked him to move out. That didn’t make me miss him or him get his act together so a little over three weeks ago I decided that wasn’t enough and broke up with him.

I realized while we were living together that we had major differences in the big three: ambition, finances and sex. I tried to accept him for who he was and just…couldn’t. I guess I’m kind of slow to realize these things sometimes. At least we had the same views on religion.

The thing is, he’s not taking it very well. I recognize I have some bad dating karma from doing things like, oh, breaking up with someone over email…so I tried to be really really good and tell him kindly but firmly that it wasn’t working and the reasons in a non specific but clear manner. For example, “I do not think we have the same career drive and you are just the way you are and I won’t change that.” Not “You are a lazy unemployed slob who only took two classes to try to finish your degree after I practically forced you to do it and when I didn’t bug you about it you didn’t even sign up for classes the next semester and I am so over carrying your ass.”

He has been emotionally manipulative and flat-out mean. I have refrained from responding…except to repeat my bottom line — I don’t want to date you anymore.

My question is — how much of this crap am I obligated to take as the break-er? Today he showed up at 6 AM and I took an hour and a half of discussing and begging before leaving for work. This is after an hour and a half last night. I am hopeful this will be the last day as he’s supposed to be getting his stuff out. After today I just don’t think I can take it anymore.

Oh, and just to muddy the waters — an old friend/beau asked me to go to Alaska with him right after the break up (known him my whole life — our parents grew up together, had two dates three years ago have always had huge crush and bad timing blah blah) and I felt impulsive, and had had vacation plans with ex so I had the time off and no plans…and after a week of thinking said hey, why not? We’re going next week, which caused enormous pain to Ex when he asked me about my vacation and I couldn’t lie. Yeah, he hyperventilated and said if I had ever loved him I would not go. All of my friends are universally excited I broke up with Ex and am going to Alaska with new guy, but I can get no concensus on what I am obligated to deal with as the instigator.

Well, he just called and said he was having a nervous breakdown and couldn’t finish moving his stuff. Great.

Okay, since I now feel like a sociopath because I am really psyched about Alaska and really tired of Ex’s whiny crap…I need outside direction to act like a human being and do what is right. Thanks!

Signed,
You’d think I’d have this break-up thing down after 32 years

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Dear Hell, I Don’t,

There’s a lot of guilt that comes with doing the breaking — especially, I think, for women who do the breaking. We feel so bad; we feel so guilty; we feel like we deserve whatever crap the breakee throws at us, because we don’t have the right to hurt anyone’s feelings. Not that men don’t feel this way, too, because I think most of them do, and I think that, generally speaking, breakers will let things drag on with the breakee and agree to a lot of angsty coffee dates they shouldn’t because they feel like they “owe” the breakee “that much,” blah blah.

Which, fine. Understandable instinct, and of course you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings if you can avoid it, but…it’s a break-up. You kind of can’t avoid it. That’s why they call it “a break-up” and not “a trampoline.” It’s not fun, or bouncy (at least, not in a good way). It sucks, for everyone, but the thing is, at a certain point I think the breaker has to say, “Enough — we need to not talk or hang out for a while,” and just put paid to it, completely, because the loooooong talks and the “oh, I can’t get my stuff right now” and on and on, it doesn’t help the breakee. It just postpones the inevitable. Ex is not dealing with the break-up, because he keeps seeing you and he keeps making excuses to have contact with you, and he’s mad and confused, and it’s understandable that he feels that way, and it’s understandable that you’re kind of done with it, but the only way for anyone to move on is for someone to say, “You know what, no more,” and he’s not going to do it. You’ll have to.

And he will haaaaaaate you. He will hate you, he will rage and cry, he will call you a bunch of times, he will talk it up that you’re a stone-cold bitch, and you’ll have to just let that happen and not respond, because…you’re not a bitch. You hurt him, but you didn’t want to, and it’s less hurtful in the long run for you just to tell him to stay away. He won’t see that, but trust me, it’s best. Let him get super-pissed; it’s part of his process, and he needs to get started on it.

Box up his shit, bring it over to his place, tell him you’re done, and leave. Leave the car running; bring a friend if you have to. But cut him off. I know you think it’s mean, but not doing it is meaner.

[8/12/05]

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Tags:   boys (and girls)   etiquette   friendships   sex