I think I figured out why I was getting the post-wedding blues. As much as I don't like to admit it, I certainly did think about/dream about/ plan out my wedding for the first 25 years or so...now that it's over, there's a lack of things to dream about. Dreaming really does keep one going.
I suppose it's only natural that I refocus my sights on having a home and a baby.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Background
I'm 27, nearly 28. We met when I was 19. I was married to Michael in October 2008. We have been together for four years this last August. This is our story.
The way we met:
Christmas of '99 I was up late, home from college, and bored out of my mind. I was chatting in an AOL bookworm room and Michael happened to be there as well. We got into an argument about some novel or writer and moved to a one on one chat for the rest of the evening. I realized that he was not so far away from me at Providence College. When I returned to school our chatting was...less than regular. It wasn't until I arrived home for summer vacation that we picked up where we left off. Concerned about the legitimacy of his claim to be a normal college student, I decided the PC library would be an appropriate meeting spot. Our first date consisted of McDonalds breakfast burritos and a trip back to his dorm room where all of his roommates were hanging out. I would say that the kiss in the stairwell was probably what made it so romantic.
The first time around:
We dated for a couple of months Summer 2000. Ball games and movies and trips to the beach. Neither of us had a lot of money, nor could we go drinking but for some reason the memories from this time of my life were the most precious and innocent. I was working at the Trinity Repertory Theater, pushing subscriptions for the upcoming season. He was at the bottling plant loading water. Our lives were less than spectacular. When we did find the time to get together, I was the driver, literally and metaphorically. He had not been allowed to get his license and didn't have a car. Thus, he was not as familiar with the area as I was, having grown up in RI. There was the trip to the beach where he skipped work and I nearly crashed into someone on the Thurber's Avenue curve. There were countless dates on Thayer Street, our local college hotspot. Having received discounted tickets, we went to see My Fair Lady at the theater which employed me. Only a few of my very vivid memories are listed here, but it was a sweet summer romance. However, the upcoming school year was taking me back to Washington DC. His previous performance at PC was lacking due to a break in his concentration and I broke up with him. I had a few reasons. I thought I would interfere with his doing well at school, judging by the previous semester's missed final exams. He was getting in trouble at home and at work for the time he was spending with me and he wasn't concentrating on his own well being. Since I was going away again, I thought it best to break clean and allow him the space to get his priorities in order. Little did I know that he would drive multiple times to DC to "win me back," further jeopardizing his standing at school and work. These attempts still didn't work. I was stubborn and harsh and sent him packing. His last trip home, penniless, exhausted, and heartbroken, he landed his car in someone's yard, flipped over and totalled. Needless to say, we didn't speak for years.
The Friendship Stage:
After my second year at Catholic University, I quit. This was out of character for me and sent up red flags for all of my family. I thought, at the time, that it was perfectly reasonable. I was out of my mind. I had met, on my first spring break ('00) visit to NC to visit my cousin Geoff, Joe Raposa. We hit it off, got together, and for the whole second semester of school ('02), I visited him on the weekends and vacations. He was older, charismatic, and the most confident person I have ever known. We were "in love" and I quit school and moved there, thus causing my entire family to go into shock. Nothing anyone said could convince me that this was a poor choice. They didn't know what to say, so they didn't say anything after a while. I was pretty lonely. I knew deep down that this wasn't where I was supposed to be, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. I made it work. I did everything I could to make it work. There were glimpses of happiness during a west wing episode or a comicon. I worked hard every day and I helped him through school while I put my own education off. The only comfort I had was my reconnection with Michael. We had kept tabs on each other via the internet and it was a year or so into my NC experience that we started to talk on the phone. He would listen, unlike Joe, and entice my senses with promises of a homecooked gourmet meal and a repeat performance at Trinity. Years passed and we kept in touch. He gave me the courage to finally leave Joe, three and a half years later in December 2004.
The get-together:
I had started school in Fall '03 and had moved into my own place, my first single gal apartment in January of '05. I met a few new people. I lived the college life I had dreamed of. I worked nearly full time at the East Carolina Inn. It was a small hotel across the street from the hospital. The clientele mostly consisted of people who were visited said hospital and therefore it was not lighthearted and silly; generally, it was a morbid place to work. I kept on with school working towards my English Education degree. I would take 20 credit hours a semester and summer courses for three years and graduate in the summer of 2006. In the meantime, Michael decided to visit me in August of 2005. He was deploying to Iraq and had one week of leave before shipping off. He used it to come and see me. We had a blast together in my little town. There was a rocky night to start us off. I recall glasses falling off and vomiting due to being drunk under the table. There was a small issue of taking his ATM card, marching up to the ATM and taking out the money he owed me. I was bitchy and he was unreasonable. After that, it got smoother. He got smoother. He and I got together, and then he left me for the war.
The way we met:
Christmas of '99 I was up late, home from college, and bored out of my mind. I was chatting in an AOL bookworm room and Michael happened to be there as well. We got into an argument about some novel or writer and moved to a one on one chat for the rest of the evening. I realized that he was not so far away from me at Providence College. When I returned to school our chatting was...less than regular. It wasn't until I arrived home for summer vacation that we picked up where we left off. Concerned about the legitimacy of his claim to be a normal college student, I decided the PC library would be an appropriate meeting spot. Our first date consisted of McDonalds breakfast burritos and a trip back to his dorm room where all of his roommates were hanging out. I would say that the kiss in the stairwell was probably what made it so romantic.
The first time around:
We dated for a couple of months Summer 2000. Ball games and movies and trips to the beach. Neither of us had a lot of money, nor could we go drinking but for some reason the memories from this time of my life were the most precious and innocent. I was working at the Trinity Repertory Theater, pushing subscriptions for the upcoming season. He was at the bottling plant loading water. Our lives were less than spectacular. When we did find the time to get together, I was the driver, literally and metaphorically. He had not been allowed to get his license and didn't have a car. Thus, he was not as familiar with the area as I was, having grown up in RI. There was the trip to the beach where he skipped work and I nearly crashed into someone on the Thurber's Avenue curve. There were countless dates on Thayer Street, our local college hotspot. Having received discounted tickets, we went to see My Fair Lady at the theater which employed me. Only a few of my very vivid memories are listed here, but it was a sweet summer romance. However, the upcoming school year was taking me back to Washington DC. His previous performance at PC was lacking due to a break in his concentration and I broke up with him. I had a few reasons. I thought I would interfere with his doing well at school, judging by the previous semester's missed final exams. He was getting in trouble at home and at work for the time he was spending with me and he wasn't concentrating on his own well being. Since I was going away again, I thought it best to break clean and allow him the space to get his priorities in order. Little did I know that he would drive multiple times to DC to "win me back," further jeopardizing his standing at school and work. These attempts still didn't work. I was stubborn and harsh and sent him packing. His last trip home, penniless, exhausted, and heartbroken, he landed his car in someone's yard, flipped over and totalled. Needless to say, we didn't speak for years.
The Friendship Stage:
After my second year at Catholic University, I quit. This was out of character for me and sent up red flags for all of my family. I thought, at the time, that it was perfectly reasonable. I was out of my mind. I had met, on my first spring break ('00) visit to NC to visit my cousin Geoff, Joe Raposa. We hit it off, got together, and for the whole second semester of school ('02), I visited him on the weekends and vacations. He was older, charismatic, and the most confident person I have ever known. We were "in love" and I quit school and moved there, thus causing my entire family to go into shock. Nothing anyone said could convince me that this was a poor choice. They didn't know what to say, so they didn't say anything after a while. I was pretty lonely. I knew deep down that this wasn't where I was supposed to be, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. I made it work. I did everything I could to make it work. There were glimpses of happiness during a west wing episode or a comicon. I worked hard every day and I helped him through school while I put my own education off. The only comfort I had was my reconnection with Michael. We had kept tabs on each other via the internet and it was a year or so into my NC experience that we started to talk on the phone. He would listen, unlike Joe, and entice my senses with promises of a homecooked gourmet meal and a repeat performance at Trinity. Years passed and we kept in touch. He gave me the courage to finally leave Joe, three and a half years later in December 2004.
The get-together:
I had started school in Fall '03 and had moved into my own place, my first single gal apartment in January of '05. I met a few new people. I lived the college life I had dreamed of. I worked nearly full time at the East Carolina Inn. It was a small hotel across the street from the hospital. The clientele mostly consisted of people who were visited said hospital and therefore it was not lighthearted and silly; generally, it was a morbid place to work. I kept on with school working towards my English Education degree. I would take 20 credit hours a semester and summer courses for three years and graduate in the summer of 2006. In the meantime, Michael decided to visit me in August of 2005. He was deploying to Iraq and had one week of leave before shipping off. He used it to come and see me. We had a blast together in my little town. There was a rocky night to start us off. I recall glasses falling off and vomiting due to being drunk under the table. There was a small issue of taking his ATM card, marching up to the ATM and taking out the money he owed me. I was bitchy and he was unreasonable. After that, it got smoother. He got smoother. He and I got together, and then he left me for the war.
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