April 20th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

So after the vote, Soap Opera Sunday lives on! (For the record. no matter what the vote had ended up as, I would have at least finished this story for you guys! Cross my heart.) Brilly-pants is hosting this week (thank goodness because I can’t seem to figure out why my Mr. Linky isn’t working!) and the rules are here. Remember that we also have an Anonymous Soapy Site for those of you who have stories to tell but would prefer to remain . . . (dun dun dun) ANONYMOUS!

Now, my neverending saga continues . . . you can hit up the Soap Opera Sunday Category in my sidebar for other soapy tales and the first bazillion installments of this story!!

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I remember so many of the exact details of the beginning of my time with Richard, but it’s near the middle (about where we are now) that things get a little fuzzy.

I moved into a new house with two great roommates and they, of course, immediately heard about Richard. He came to visit rarely and I was up in Salt Lake every chance I got visiting him. We spent most of our time together sitting on his couch watching TV. At first it was ESPN but as the War in Iraq got going, and my brother was part of it, we spent a lot of time watching the never ending war coverage. I think we were both hoping for a glance of Sean, just to make sure he was OK. We were both extremely worried about him. I thought it was sweet.

I took a second job working for a sports memoribila store. I needed more to do after my other job to keep myself busy while I waited for Richard to finish working out . . . or finish his basketball game . . . or finish his soccer game . . . or finish his date . . . or finish shaving his legs (no lie this happened) . . . and Richard needed discounts on authentic throw-back sports jerseys. It was the perfect job for that.

Richard started to rely on me for things he really should have done himself. I was more than happy to be relied upon. I thought that the more he relied on me, the more he’d realize he couldn’t live without me. Thanks to his never ending quest to play sports 24 hours a day, he started having major hip and groin problems that required the attention of an orthopedic surgeon. I found the doctor, made the appointment, took him to the appointment, filled out his paperwork . . . you get the picture. I spent house giving him back rubs and leg rubs in an attempt to ease the muscle cramps and pain. He’d fall asleep on the couch while I rubbed away and I’d just sit there for hours while he slept, wondering why I was doing what I was doing. Wondering why he didn’t tell me he loved me and let us move on in our relationship already. Wondering why I didn’t just run away as fast as I could. He’d be snoring away and I’d be crying. Eventually he’d wake up and tell me I should go home because he needed to be rested for his hard job working at his family’s fast food restaurant the next day. He was the drive-thru operator. Hard job, right?

Richard had no tact and what appeared to be no awareness of hurting me. I’d hear about other girls, other dates, other plans. He’d talk about needing a date to a certain activity and then not ask me to go. I’d get so mad and I’d yell at him for it and then he’d respond with his usual “Kate, we’re not together. You can’t get your feelings hurt over stuff like this. I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never led you to believe we’re something we’re not. You’re my bud and I love you but I’m not a girlfriend kind of guy right now.” Right now. My brain would hear that and think “maybe someday though, right? Well I want to be here when someday happens.” And I’d have to back down because technically he was right. He was being honest with me in that respect.

My friends were so mad at me during this period of time, and they had every right to be. They saw how awful Richard was to me and they hated him for it. They tried everything they could think of to convince me to get away from him. Even at the time, I knew. I knew he was bad for me, I knew I needed to get away, but I wasn’t ready. So I told them that. I always listened to what they had to say and I tried hard never to get angry or offended with them for sharing their opinions. I knew they were protective of me and just wanted me to be happy. My heart just wasn’t ready to let go. I eventually had to attempt not to talk about him anymore because it would cause such a ruckus among my girls. So, by my own doing, I was alone in my hurt, unable to express to almost anyone what I was feeling.

I continued to get a phone call from Richard every night before he went to bed. It was our tradition. Even if we hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, we talked every single day. I think those phone calls were what kept me in love with him. Late at night, with no one else around, he was the sweet guy I had met almost a year before. The guy I wanted to be with. But it only lasted during those conversations. In the daylight, he was a person I knew well, but didn’t understand and certainly didn’t want to spend my life with. I wanted to find a way for him to be that late night guy all the time. So far I was failing miserably.

I’d get the guts to tell myself I didn’t want to see him ever again. I’d ignore his phone calls for a few days. I’d sit in my office listening to songs with titles like “Letting Go” or “Moving On” and cry and cry, knowing it was never going to work. I’d renew my efforts to find a new boyfriend. It was like he could sense it because that’s when he’d “attack.” He’d show up at my door (something that NEVER happened) or plan the rare, actual DATE, and hug me tight and tell me how much he missed me and I’d melt into his arms and all my resolve to never see him again would disappear.

I was a glutton for punishment. I knew it . . . and I didn’t care.