September 8th, 2008 by Kateastrophe

So let it be stated, for the record, that I suck at Soap Opera Sunday lately.

Let’s try to move on with this ridiculously long Richard saga, shall we? Here’s where we left off last . . . I was being all dramatic and sobby, yet again.

I was determined to never speak to Richard again. I was hurt and alone and frustrated and I just needed to let myself heal. I immediately started watching myself to see if I needed ani-depressants again, but I seemed to be doing better than the last couple of times. I was having a rough time sleeping so my “nurse,” who is also called “Mom” provided me with three sleeping pills to help me for the first few days. (Let it be known that Ambien sleep is the best frickin’ sleep I’ve ever had. Take one at 10:00, drift peacefully to sleep and blissfully open your eyes exactly eight hours later feeling like a queen. ) I was struggling, but I was keeping my crap together.

Richard was making it easy. We hadn’t missed a nightly phone call in almost two years, but he wasn’t calling. I thought he finally got the message and was going to leave me alone.

Hahahahahahahaha.

Five days after the horrible night, he called and left a message on my phone. “BUD! Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you all week and I’m worried that you’re dead or something. I miss you and I have tickets to the game this weekend for us! Callmecallmecallme.”

Uh, WHAT?!

It was like a piece of his brain was missing. Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t watched me sob on the floor of his living room for two hours less than a week before.

I ignored that phone call as well as the next ten. He called four times a day at least and I ignored him for a few more days until he got tricky and called me from a number I didn’t know.

I answered the phone and he just started talking non-stop about missing me and wondering where I’d been and asking how I was and all that stuff that he never ever did. He wanted to see me that night and he wasn’t accepting no for an answer. He was in his car right that minute and on his way to my house.

My brain was screaming at me to hang up on him and leave my house that very second, but my heart and every bone and muscle in my body was aching for his presence. He was like a drug and I was completely addicted to him and unable to ever say no.

I was sitting on the couch when he arrived. He didn’t knock on the door, he just walked in and came over to me and scooped me up in a huge hug. I melted into him, my senses on fire in his presence. I had missed his touch, his smell, his voice . . . everything.

We sat on the couch for a long time, talking and laughing, just like when we were first dating. All my resolve to forget about him disappeared and I jumped in, starting the whole vicious cycle over again, except this time he was a little better. He made a little more effort, tried a little harder. Granted, it still wasn’t enough, but I was clinging to the hope that he was taking baby steps and eventually he would be running right for me. We fought sometimes, I hated him sometimes, he thought I was clingy sometimes, but we clung to each other for some crazy reason.

Things were OK. Not great, but OK. We still spent a lot of time apart, doing our own thing, but we clung to each other for some reason . . . most likely habit, I’m sure.

September rolled around and it was college football season again. Almost two years since we met. The students were back in town and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t one of them. I was working full-time and starting to feel like a real grown up.

One of my best friends, Rhonda, had recently moved to Phoenix and met some guy who’s uncle flew private planes, so they hitched a ride from Phoenix to Provo to catch the BYU vs. Standford game. Rhonda and I sat in her family’s seats and decided to meet a bunch of people at our favorite Mexican Restaurant, Los Hermanos, after the game.

I was in rare form that night. I get pretty excited at football games, and I was decked out in blue and white, with an exceptionally attractive hairstyle which included my hair in a ponytail on TOP of my head, sticking out of a BYU visor which I was wearing backwards and upside down. My new shoes had caused a bleeding blister on the back of my heel, so, in a public restaurant, I had removed my shoes. I was a vision of class.

As we walked into the restaurant and Rhonda told me “the guy I flew up with is really cool. I think you’ll like him.”

“Yeah right,” I thought, “I’m not involving any more boys in my world of crazy.”

We walked to our table and there were two cute guys there, obviously brothers. The older, cuter one stood up, shook my hand and said “Hi, I’m Matt. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Maybe I’ll involve someone else in my crazy,” I thought. “This one’s kinda cute!”