Private Bitterness

3:35 pm
I wonder how long it will take to purge this fucking resentment toward Duane?

So many, many disappointing things happened during my stay in California...in many ways, I was practically betrayed, both at home and at work. I guess the main difference between the home and work is that at least the work part was pretty straightforward. It doesn't trouble me now.

However, in the case of Duane, the letdown is the biggest I've ever known. I literally wasted four years of my life on him. I have nothing but disappointment and alienation to show for it. Even after I moved back home to Portland, the shit continued. There is/was something devious about this guy. On the outside he appeared to be noncommittal--at times, apathetic. He passed himself off as a "nice guy"...someone who, in his own words, "took the high road".

Yet he sabotaged everything about us.

The real trouble started two months before I moved to California. I discovered that Duane was utterly devoid of empathy (a discussion in itself). He didn't understand--nor did he care--why I was experiencing anxiety as the moving date approached. In fact, the only thing he expressed was disapproval in response to my feelings (or at least the expression of such).

Thus began a downward spiraling situation. I should never have moved to California. What I thought was the best relationship of my life became the most damaging. For what it's worth, I have experience with traumatic hook-ups. However, none of them screwed ME up like the relationship I had with Duane.

Why didn't I follow my brain? Why did I put on the blinders, rationalizing every warning my friends, family and colleagues expressed? How could I have ever allowed myself to settle for a man who brought to the table more baggage than a large airport?

The never-ending divorce. The vindictive not-quite-ex-wife, her lying, her attempts to undermine a relationship that was already struggling? But you see, Duane was dismissive of that, too. All of the pot-shots, all of the drama and chaos and hatred she made damned sure would infiltrate and pollute Life with Duane...huh...he simply brushed it aside. His so-called reasoning was that Jeanne didn't really mean it, so it shouldn't bother me. In fact, there were many times he went as far as to become so defensive that he would tell me that it was "none of (my) business".

Then there were the expectations this man had as it pertained to Alex. Let me say for the record that my relationship with the boy did not get off to a good start. I don't think I even have to state the obvious...that is, why it did start off so badly.

However, as time went on, Alex and I DID develop a rapport. By the time I moved back to Oregon, it is a huge understatement to say that I liked Alex far better than I liked Duane. I always knew that he and I would get along wonderfully once he reached adolescence...because this would mark the period of real understanding and appreciation of people...not by what they're SUPPOSED to feel, but based, instead, on actions over words.

But that was doomed.

The truth is, the only peaceful and happy times I had during the all of 2004 and 2005 happened when Duane was gone. There was an awful, stifling tension that drove me away. I felt that since I had nowhere to go geographically, the only place I could escape was within myself. I grew very depressed, practically to the point of psychosis. As a matter of fact, I think I actually had some truly psychotic moments during our fights...because he was more of a robot than a human. I was going nuts.

My zest for life evaporated. I enjoyed teaching. It became the only thing that fulfilled me. I barely ate. My sleep was screwed up. I felt sick a lot. Although not consciously aware of it at the time, I didn't even want Duane to touch me.

Duane expected sex.

Don't get me wrong, here. A physical relationship is pretty okay to entertain expectations of, given the relationship is otherwise doing well. Hell, for that matter, there are lots of people who can't stand one another and the only reason they stay together is of hot sex.

The latter was not the case when it came to Duane and me.

His understanding of cause and effect was so deranged that it only made the problem worse. I was completely miserable. Here I was with a man who wasn't really committed. He was lazy. He was the laziest man I ever met. At first I confused laziness for having a "laid-back" personality. It took a while to figure out, but eventually I did come to realize what should have been obvious from the very beginning.

Things finally reached critical mass and it became abundantly clear I needed to move out. What began as a reaction to a nasty quarrel (I told Duane I was leaving him) became something else (I didn't change my mind, even after the dust settled).

Duane does not handle rejection well. This, combined with his absence of empathy--well, it ensured a troubling and destructive aftermath.

And yet, after all of that ugliness, I sincerely wanted to remain friends. I have always had a "never say never" philosophy regarding *MOST* relationships. Duane's rancid hostility made friendship absolutely impossible in the first few months following my move-out.

I dated a man briefly. He was a nice person. Handsome. Silly. Emotional. The latter was probably what I thirsted for most of all. It turned out that handsome, silly and emotional alone aren't the recipe for anything enduring. I learned that Mike was still married! He claimed that he was planning to leave his wife, that she kinda-sorta knew about his extramarital relationships (I was not his first, nor would I be his last). Ultimately I broke things off with him. Things were going to end regardless of who did the ending, and since I was the one with enough perspective to know where things were heading, I was the "off-cutter".

Mike and I began to have a pretty intense romantic involvement during the six or so weeks we spent together. I discovered that I was, in fact, able to respond to sexual advances if a man was able to really express feelings, who was capable of more than two facial expressions, whose voice had many inflections. Call me picky, but those are but two must-haves if there's going to be real chemistry. Chemistry alone, however, won't carry things in the long run. There has to be a commonality regarding values.

So, knowing this, why did I ever become physically involved with Mike then? One, I wasn't quite aware of the truths mentioned above until after I left Duane. Additionally, I think I was "running on the fumes" of the Duane and me from days long past...a time when he was cute and expressive, who hadn't yet fossilized. I imagined that under that inanimate exterior of the older Duane was the guy from many years ago. I used to close my eyes and imagine that, and get close to it. It was that essence of the early Duane that drew me in, that made me want to touch and be touched.

However, there finally came a time when I realized that that person I yearned for simply did not exist anymore. Perhaps he never did; things look different through the eyes of a young girl, and the passage of many years has a way of casting a diffused light over a lot of events, adding highlights where there may have been none.

It's quite sad, because for more than twenty years, I had good memories of my brief time with that younger Duane. Of course that was before he told me that he wasn't even happy back then. Duane managed to destroy even the old memories.

And yet, believe it or not, I STILL wanted to remain friends with Duane, even after I moved back home to Oregon. As it turns out, Duane was amusing himself by looking for reasons to "understand" why our sexual relationship died. Never mind the hours I spent trying to explain it, trying to understand it myself. Duane had to find more sinister reasons. Blame HAD to be assigned.

A month after I moved back to Portland, I received a vitriolic email from Duane. He tried to slaughter me with words. He managed to outdo the authoritarian, judgmental Duane of 2004 and 2005.

I was staggered by such an out-of-the-blue, unprovoked attack.

Duane called me some really choice things, accusing me of using him, being a "fucking liar"...of "fucking Mike"...attempting to belittle me by stating that Mike "dumped" me...the list goes on, and it's a long one.

I was sickened by the hatred and blame that Duane hurled my way. His words and accusations decimated every last warm sentiment I held as it related to him, to us.
He didn't express such things in moments of passion. He turned out to be a calculating, almost evil presence. More than once I found myself thinking, "What he cannot have, he must destroy."

I know it sounds as if I believe that Duane was the only one who behaved badly. I know this isn't so. I know what I've said and done that was nasty and wrong.

However, I can stand myself, because the woman inside of me has compassion.

It's amazing how far that can go.