I’m of the belief that what a man gives you for a special occasion is representative of how he feels about you; of where you stand in the relationship. Like when I was married, I knew it was over when he got me a cappuccino maker for our first married Christmas together. Like when I was broken up with on Valentine’s Day. He had gotten me chocolates and a monkey card. Other years together the gifts were altogether different. One year it was a necklace and flowers, the other a pair of earrings and a mushy card (not a monkey joke card) with ‘I love you’ spewed all over it. Now that’s what you get a woman for a special holiday.
My last boyfriend was about two years ago. I suppose we’ll call him ‘Hymie’. Hymie was a guy I had met through mutual friends. He was the singer in a popular wedding band, which played around the tri-state area. He was actually going to be playing at a family wedding later that year. As soon as we met, we were smitten. Immediately saw each other a couple of times a week and he called me every day. This went on for a few weeks, when he told me that he was not interested in a relationship.
Huh? I was taken aback. What were we doing?
What was I doing?
I explained to him that I WAS looking for a relationship. It was at that point in time, when I should have bailed. I didn’t have anything invested in it yet. They say, when I guy tells you something like that about himself, you should listen. I didn’t. I guess because it was something I didn’t want to hear.
Instead, I ignored it and kept going the way we were going. Thought that I would just go along and see what happens. If he falls in love with me, he would change his mind. Because I was different.
Oh, yea, sure I was. When was I going to learn? Pretty soon, actually.
So we continued on. I grew more and more into him and him for me. I thought. Months passed. Spring passed and summer was here. Heck, he’d introduced me to his family. He must really be into me.
He had plans to spend his summer in Europe. Three months. He’d be back in October. Gave me his European cell phone number and promised to call when he got there. I however, told him I would not call him. I didn’t want to bother. It was quite romantic before he left. He told me how much he would miss me and how he couldn’t wait for October. I thought, well, he didn’t want a relationship, but he’s sure got one.
Sure enough he did call when he got there….
But that was it. Nothing. For weeks. And weeks.
Friends asked, “Have you heard from Hymie?”
“No.” I’d make up some excuse as to why it wasn’t going to be like that. We were not going to be calling each other a lot.
They still asked again. Every time, like a knife.
When finally, I called him. He sounded surprised and happy to hear from me. But a little distant. I couldn’t tell if it was the distance that made it feel that way, but it did. After that, I was obsessed. I called him a few times. He called as well. But that strange feeling I had was always there. The months passed so slowly. My summer sucked, even though I’d gone on some fantastic trips. My heart and mind were always thinking about Hymie.
While he was away, his birthday came. I thought I’d surprise him with a gift for when he returned. I became obsessed with the right gift and card to get him. I finally settled on something; cologne, a shirt, a card which wasn’t too mushy but also not a monkey card.
Late September, my phone rang. “I’m back!” It was Hymie.
Huuu? My heart stopped.
“Do you want to see me?” It was 9PM.
“Yes!” I drove to New Jersey to see him, gifts in tow.
We had a wonderful time seeing each other and catching up. I gave him the birthday gifts. He didn’t really make a big deal about it. Ok. Fine…
I was about to leave to go back to the city and he says, “Wait, I brought back something for you.” He leaves the room to retrieve it.
I’m excited. Ooh, he brought me something. He thought of me while he was there. He picked something out!
He comes back into the room holding a fucking key chain. A cheap, run of the mill, fucking masculine key chain, which he probably bought for some guy friend of his and figured he’d throw me a bone and give to me.
I made a major deal about how wonderful and beautiful the key chain was.
We said good-bye. He’d call me tomorrow.
…..
………
…………..
Silence.
No call.
Three days.
Nothing.
I called him. Left a voicemail.
…..
………
…………..
PANIC.
I really started to lose my shit after days and days of silence.
Then he called. But he got off the phone so fast, I don’t even know what we said. Then,
…………
………………..
…………………………….
I was dumped.
Devastated.
And it was no one’s fault but my own. I should have known. I should have listened to him and my gut.
Instead, I was given the key chain of death. And it meant it was all over.
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