Fini
This is the final post about this. I initially thought of just saving this for myself, but I'm hoping to clear some things up on my end.
So, Lacey is gone for good. She's in Virginia and she's seeing someone. It'd been about two-and-a-half months since I last saw her, and nearly as long since the last time we actually spoke in a friendly manner. I'm not entirely sure how everything happened, or why she turned into a complete stranger to me over the past few weeks, and I know that I wasn't entirely helpful, but that's because I was frankly frustrated and upset. Did I still have feelings for her? Naturally; as I'd said to her before she moved back, I was actually actively planning the next five years or so with the notion that I'd be at least tangentially involved with her (i.e. close friends). Were we “together” recently? Well, that's where it gets a bit hazy: technically, we weren't “together” at all for most of this year, but we were still together in the sense that we always went out with one another, invited each other to events (at least I did, for my part. I mean, her family isn't up here so I wasn't really expecting to be invited to weddings or anything), went out with friends together, slept over, watched movies, and just generally talked to each other on a daily basis, mostly about advice and whatnot. There wasn't too much pressure on either side, we were best friends, and there was still the level of intimacy that we both needed.
She hadn't necessarily planned on moving back to Virginia. In fact, as early as February or March she had asked me to seriously consider moving out and finding a place together when her lease ran out in November. I knew it would be difficult (especially now that I'm unemployed and still trying to figure out how to find film work), but I would have done it and was hoping to do so. Instead, her roommates kicked her out. Her options were to find another place or to move back to Virginia; she wasn't entirely sure what to do, and she called me crying and worried and not sure of what move to make. She talked to her parents, and then talked to me, and we all agreed that perhaps it would be best for her to move back to Virginia for the time being until she was able to get a better grip on how to manage her finances. I helped her move to Virginia at the end of July.
I was awake around 5:30 that morning, drove to her place, helped her pack, and made the 4-hour drive down with her entire bed packed into my mom's SUV. We made it down in time for brunch with her family, we unpacked her stuff and put it into her room, I napped for a few hours, we went to Sweetwater Tavern, and I drove off. Her parents were grateful enough to fill up my gas tank, get me a gift card, pay for my food, and give me $50. In all honesty, I do appreciate her parents and it's a shame I won't be seeing them again.
Now, Lacey had also been given the chance to go to Haiti on a mission trip. She wasn't entirely sure on whether or not she'd wanted to go; it was a free trip, it was going to be a lot of hard work, and she would most likely experience a fundamental change personally as a result of the experience. I told her to go for it; this was a chance in a lifetime, it was a free trip, and she'd be seeing life at its rawest as well as helping those who definitely need it. She went to Haiti on August 6th, and came back on the 13th. I was unable to talk to her during her trip, as there was no way to contact her, but, as we had discussed before the trip, I went down to Virginia to stay the weekend with her the day she got back.
She was violently sick when I went down, so the most that we were able to do was to walk around the mall at Tysons Corner, and then go to the movies to see Scott Pilgrim and The Expendables. She didn't really seem too enthused to see me, but I attributed that more to the fact that she was sick and had just gotten in from a pretty exhausting trip. The most we did was cuddle on the couch where I slept before we went to sleep that Saturday night. The following Sunday she and I went to see a community theatre version of Brgiadoon with her family after getting some brunch. Then she drove me to DC and I grabbed a bus. She hugged me goodbye as I took a bus back to the City.
While at work near the end of August, she had called me in order to tell me that she had been offered a part in an independent zombie film. She was uncertain as to whether or not she'd actually wanted to take the role, as she didn't think she was a good enough actor. I told her that despite what might happen, it's a small, independent movie, and it's a zombie film; if anything, she'll at least gain some experience working on a feature, will make some connections, and will be able to use that experience for her own zombie film. And, if not, it would only take a month to shoot, and it might be fun, and she'll definitely meet new people (something she was worried about. She would often complain that she'd lost the ability to meet new people and strike up conversations with anyone.) Several more conversations about the film (Dead On Delmarva) would follow, mostly concerned with whether the filmmakers knew what they were doing (they had cast Kelsey in the film without even meeting her, based purely on the fact that she and Lacey are twins). I told her not to worry about it, but to go with it; again, it's a small movie, and at the least she'll have a fun experience.
That was the last real time she and I had a conversation. That was early September. I had spoken to her briefly before starting work on Transatlantic Coffee, probably after I had quit working at dvDepot. Nothing, by that time, had seemed out of place or different about our relationship (relationship in the sense that we were friends; on at least one occasion during the summer, she had called up concerned that we would no longer be friends given her change in location. I promised her I'd always be a friend to her, or, as she put it, I'd always be her “bestest buddy”. I knew what word she'd wanted to say though...she hesitated a good few seconds before saying “buddy”.) She said I could always turn to her, always talk to her, no matter what, and she'd always be there.
Now, though, it appears that she'd been just leading me on, and she'd lied to me. She wouldn't always be there. She had no intention of keeping up with me, and had decided to sever ties with me as soon as she had gone back to Virginia and managed to find someone new to hold onto. She had ceased talking to me almost entirely for over two-and-a-half months; whenever I did manage to get her on the phone, she would be interrupted by a phone call from her father and would have to cut the conversation short. She would promise to call me back, but never would do so. Whenever I mentioned that she had said she'd call me back and never did, I was told I was being “passive aggressive”. Whenever I did in fact get passive aggressive with her, she told me that I should “stop putting my needs ahead of hers.” To say I was dumbfounded by her change in attitude would be a gross understatement.
The second-to-last weekend in October was apparently the final weekend of shooting Dead On Delmarva, and she had left a message on Facebook asking people to go down and help her as extras. I half-heartedly volunteered, knowing that without my getting paid yet, it would be an ordeal to get enough money to head down there (by bus or driving, it would be a lot) and find a place to stay (she said a hotel room was rented...I would not be able to afford that). The message I received from her was that the production needed “...either a really big asshole, or a patient sound guy, both of which (I) could do”. I responded saying that I might not be able to afford it, but if they absolutely needed help, I would head down. I got no response, so I opted to stay home and help my dad with the kitchen. Saturday, at night, I left another text message for her, saying that if they still need help, I would head down that night (with the intention of perhaps sleeping in the car. I was going to ask whether I could at least be reimbursed for gas or tolls, but figured money was stretched enough). I got no response.
Shortly before the end of October, 2010, I had had enough and realized that the only way I was going to actually talk to her was to propose something so outrageous and over-the-top that she would have to speak to me directly. I had text-messaged her, saying that I was planning on going to the Rally to Restore Sanity, which was going to be held in Washington DC on the 30th; I told her that I was planning on going and would I be able to crash at her place? Honestly, I had no intention of going (again...I have little money), but I figured that she would at least talk to me. She called me from work that Monday. I summed up my feelings on that conversation at my Livejournal, below:
"I've been summed up as a "creepy, codependent stalker" who's "kind of pathetic" by my best friend of over four years, with whom I hadn't been able to actually have a substantial conversation for over 2 months. It sums up to she's moved on from me and "probably shouldn't be talking to (me)". That's understandable, quite frankly...the moving on part, I mean. Long distance relationships do tend to fail. But long-distance friendships? I mean...I thought we were friends? Yes, I've been trying desperately to get in touch with you, for many, many reasons; one of which is that Rob and Courtney were getting a head count for their wedding. They wanted to know if you'd be there. You won't be. You and I spoke yesterday because I proposed something so outrageous that we had to talk about it. I had no intention of going down at all, but I was out of options.
We haven't really spoken the way we used to: not the way when we were together, but the way we did during the summer. When we were friends, and we actually trusted each other (you knew my PIN number, for Christ's sake!) and hung out. I know I'm a handful. But so's everyone else. So are you. I'm sorry I'm no longer what you need...even as a friend, apparently.
I literally helped you move back to Virginia; you called me first when you found out you had to leave Garfield. I offered to let you stay at my place for a few days until you figured out what to do. You spent a whole week at my place when you didn't want to go back to your apartment. We spoke about you working on the zombie movie (I was the first one you called about it!), when you had doubts about whether you were a good enough actor for it; I said you should go for it, at the least you'll learn about film making, make connections and it'd help with your own zombie film. I gave my opinion about the mission trip to Haiti, when you asked my advice about you going. I told you to go for it, it was a chance in lifetime. The paper you've spent so much time and energy writing...I bought you the books you're using as sources for it. And yet, despite that, I'm self-centered and had been ignoring your needs. I'm "creepy" and "pathetic"."
She's dating someone, and apparently has been for a few months. Whether that time overlapped with the period she was asking me for advice on her immediate future, or help moving to Virginia, or to take her to Toronto, or to remain her best friend, I'm not sure; but I wouldn't be surprised if it did. I wouldn't be surprised if she was seeing him prior to September. And if she had met him on the film set, then I inadvertently helped her meet him: it wasn't until I spoke to her that she decided to do the movie in the first place. If that's the case, then I literally helped her move on from me...and yet I'm codependent and pathetic and wasn't putting her needs ahead of mine. There is no way I benefitted from that (clearly). Rather than tell me straight up, immediately, what was happening, she kept it from me, talked about me behind my back, and then finally let me know that she was seeing someone in the most uncouth, tactless way I could possibly think of. “We broke up. I moved to Virginia. I met someone. What more is there to explain?” You talked to me as if I had no right contacting you.
There are some details missing. “You broke up with me. Then you got back with me. Then you started sleeping over. Then we became close. Then you got kicked out of your apartment. Then I helped you move to Virginia (the only one of your friends to do so) after talking to you about how it was best for you. For YOU. Not me. Not 'us'. Then, after my prompting, you started work on the movie. Then you slowly stopped talking to me. Then you acted as if I never knew you and didn't deserve an explanation....or at least a goodbye.”
That's all I wanted. A goodbye. A thanks. Thanks for the fun. Thanks for helping me. Thanks for being there. Thanks for being a friend. Thanks for letting me stay at your place. Thanks for not leaving me all those times I lied to you, and cheated on you and let you down. Thanks for taking me out on Valentine's Day, despite the fact I had stood you up that morning. Thanks for still being my friend, despite my leading you on for at least the past year. Thanks for honestly believing that I was a decent, yet flawed, person who made mistakes, just like everybody else did. Thanks for not hating me all those times I broke up with you and hurt you and led you on. Thanks for putting up with me introducing myself to your family as “just your friend”. Thanks for taking me out and paying for me. Thanks for spending $200 on tickets for Chicago at a time when you really shouldn't have spent that much money on anything, including yourself. Thanks for being the only boyfriend I've had who still talks to me after I broke up with you. Thanks for never calling me a bitch all those times I pissed you off. Thanks for letting me do my laundry at your place, and make myself breakfast, and do my homework there. Thanks for not cheating on me all those times you had the chance to. Thanks for letting me plan out my future for myself, while I sat on your couch in your clothes eating your food at your house, as you planned the next 4 years of your life with the notion that I'd be around. Thanks for not believing me when I told you I was a bitch. Thanks for not asking me what else I've done to you that you don't know about. Thanks for not leaving me despite my blaming you. Thanks for letting me call you "codependent" and "pathetic" despite the fact I was at your place almost every single day, sleeping over every other weekend for the past two years, and was always the one to come back to you whenever I broke up with you. Thanks for letting me always decided whenever our relationship[ wasn't working, and deferring your judgment to me. Thanks for still picking up the phone every time I called you. Thank you...and goodbye.
A goodbye. That's all I want. After everything we'd both put each other through, that's the least we owe each other. And I shouldn't have to ask for a goodbye. I shouldn't have to remind you of four years, and say that what you did and how you ended this is hurtful, disgraceful, and has soured my entire perception of you. At this point, whatever sense of closure I could have gotten will not be enough. You used me, entirely, for at least a year, and blamed me for thinking we were friends. You talked about me behind my back when you should have been talking to me straight up about what was happening. Would I have been hurt? Would I have been angry and upset? Yes...for a time. But I would have at least respected you and moved on easier and perhaps even spoken again in a year or two. I've done a lot of shitty things to you, yes. I've hurt you, I've let you down, I've made you think I was cheating on you (still glad to say I never did). I've done worse. But I don't deny it. I've apologized for it. I've tried to learn from it and change, not just for you, but for myself as well.
You left New Jersey early in the morning before your roommates woke up, and you didn't even say goodbye to them. I helped you get back to Virginia in order to focus yourself and better prepare your future, and you couldn't say goodbye to me either. I'm surprised by that, not because you did it, but because my friends (and some of yours from up here that still talk to me) knew you would. I wanted them to wrong about you. But they knew you better than I did. You sneaked out leaving everyone without saying a word. You left your friends. You dropped me like I was nothing. I wanted so badly for them to be wrong about you. Instead, I was wrong.
This is my way of saying goodbye. Goodbye, good luck, Godspeed, and thanks for the past four-and-a-half years. I'm sorry it had to end this way. You're the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.
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With that, I'm closing the book on this, at least online. I don't know if I can sustain my anger anymore. It's affecting my work, affecting my sleep, and affecting my health. I'm seeing a therapist starting Monday because I realize that I'm at not codependent, but rather depressed (it might be clinical, but it might also just be seasonal) and suffering from acute adjustment disorder. Whether this could manifest into a mild case of PTSD (as I had let happen 5 years ago) is unknown, but I'm hoping to nip it in the bud. I've hidden my depression behind my work, or schoolwork, or with the help of my friends or girlfriends; with most of those things being gone, I can't find anything to keep me focused on the positive, the optimistic. I've actually started to talk to Ali B. again, hoping her uncanny optimism will rub off on me.
I hope Josh is free tonight, as I could use a drink, and I owe him a birthday present. And for fuck's sake, I wish the other Josh (Hilson) will stop texting me bragging about how great DC is. Fuck DC. I didn't want to go there, I didn't want the job, I'm sorry I let you down, but you're getting paid and you need it, and I'm dealing with my shit. Trust me, you would not be able to deal with me presently. I can't deal with me presently. I'm an awkward mess around my new acquaintances, and it's a miracle at least one of them isn't scared off. I aced the PA jobs, though.
I'd been writing this entry for a while. Maybe now I can work on actual important stuff.
I start therapy again. I'm excited.