The Boyfriend Chronicles: Robby

The Boyfriend Chronicles: Robby
April – May 2002

Rob and I met in a highly isolated training environment, where the rules were many and the enforcement strict. When he arrived, I had already been there a few months and had adjusted to the almost juvenile mindset required to survive in such surroundings. It’s hard to reconcile being a responsible adult with the reality of being told when to sleep, how to act and what to wear. Survival required a certain numbness and the ability to blend in with the sixty or so 18 to 22 year olds by whom I was constantly surrounded. This is the only justification I have when trying to explain why Rob ever happened in the first place.

He had a girlfriend back home and I knew it, but I wasn’t attracted to him at first anyway. It wasn’t until after they started drifting apart that our friendship took a turn toward something more intimate. At first we were perfect together. He was smart, good looking, mature, intelligent and thoughtful, which practically made him Jesus compared to the troglodytes I was used to. He was attentive, too, which was nourishing in the face of the kind of loneliness one can only experience when surrounded by five dozen people you have nothing in common with. It was Rob and I against that world and we were thick as thieves. We’d spend nearly every day together, then fall asleep on the phone — me tucked into my cinder-block cubicle in the east wing of the third floor, him in his little cell in the west wing of the floor below. I only ever dared to sneak onto his floor once for a little messing around, but the perpetual party going on in his hallway put an end to that idea. Instead, we made a game out of finding the least used corners and niches in which to steal a quick moment alone. My reversion to the teen years was complete the night we found we were reduced to either locking ourselves in his car or going three more days without any action. I worked hard to keep myself from grasping the sad pathos of my life in those months.

Eventually we were visited by the Drama Fairy, as is any relationship I begin to enjoy too much. We broke up, made up, broke up, made out, then made up again. At one point he was so afraid of losing me for good, he spent a month’s pay on a weekend stay at a swanky hotel downtown. I barely tolerated him all weekend and we didn’t speak at all on the way home. We made up eventually, and when the time came for me to leave him behind, we made all the requisite promises about pursuing a future together. I missed him deeply at first, but then three months of his silence coupled with continuous freedom from that environment made me realize the end of us was for the best. This was fortunate, because according to insider reports, I hadn’t even left before he forgot we were supposed to be ‘together’. I was incensed at his duplicity, but more than willing to write off the whole experience as stress-induced madness and forget about it. Easier said than done.

It was bad enough that he professed his undying love for me while screwing everything that moved, but five months or so later, I got an email from him. It was priceless in its almost convincing innocence. In it, he alluded to how much he missed me, as though I hadn’t written him half a dozen unanswered emails since we parted. He expressed a desire to get back together, which I found utterly outrageous in light of the fact that my last email to him had been an impassioned commentary on his extracurricular activities, followed by a threat about tying his tender parts into knots if I ever saw him again. I was astounded that he had no idea his cheating had gotten back to me. I sent him another, “I know what you did” letter, which resulted in the following email exchange:

From: Rob
To: Jill
Received: Wed, 25 Sep 2002 1:31:59 PM
Subject: HELLO FROM AN OLD FRIEND!!!

HEY YOU!!! ITS ME, ROBBY!!! YOU SHOULD CALL ME ON MY CELL: 123-456-7890.TALK TO YOU SOON!

Me: No answer. Obviously he fired this one off before reading through his mail.

From: Rob
To: Jill
Received: Thu, 26 Sep 2002 10:03:41 AM
Subject: (no subject)

HEY BEAUTIFUL!! I MISS YOU! GIVWE (sic) ME A CALL SOMETIME SO WE CAN TALK.

ROBBY

Me: No answer. Any minute now he’ll dig up his old emails and discover his game is up. At least I hope he does – it’d be a shame if that wonderful ‘dick-in-a-knot’ threat were to go to waste.

From: Rob
To: Jill
Received: Sat, 28 Sep 2002 9:38:31 AM
Subject: (no subject)

HEY! I MISS YOU! CAN WE PLEASE TALK??? CALL ME AT 123-456-7890. I REALLY MISS YOU A LOT!

ROBBY

Me: Still not answering. This is getting ridiculous.

From: Rob
To: Jill
Received: Sat, 28 Sep 2002 3:42:35 PM
Subject: (no subject)

GUESS WHAT!! I [GOT PROMOTED]. I JUST WANTED TO SAY HI! I MISS YOU AND LOK (sic) FORWARD TO HEARING FROM YOU!!

ROBBY

Me: Roll my eyes and finally decide to put a stop to this before he really embarrasses himself.

From: Jill
To: Rob
Sent: Tue, 1 Oct 2002 9:17:41 AM
Subject: RE: (no subject)

Look, I know what you did after I left […], and I’m really not interested in discussing it. Please don’t contact me again.

Jill

From: Rob
To: Jill
Received: Tue, 1 Oct 2002 1:58:32 PM
Subject: RE: (no subject)

I AM SORRY IF YOU HEARD WHATEVER!~ I JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU…

ROBBY

I received three more e-mails from Rob that weekend, each one sounding more urgent than the last. With subject lines like ‘Please Respond’, ‘Please Read and Respond’, ‘Please Read This’, they contained allusions to some horrible times he was having, how much he missed me and how much he needed someone he could trust and lean on.

I admit I felt some satisfaction at first. Here came the wandering boyfriend, crawling back on his hands and knees, begging me for whatever crumbs I might throw his way. It’s what every scorned woman dreams of when she dreams of revenge, isn’t it? Then it became annoying, as every time I found another e-mail from him, I had to convince myself all over again that we were over, there was nothing he could say that would change anything, and that I didn’t want to go down that booby-trapped road again. I’m happy now. Go away.

Then it started to make me mad. I poured out my thoughts into a journal entry:

He’s trying to manipulate me, thinking that if he can make me feel sorry enough for him, I’ll welcome him with open arms, reassuring him that all is forgiven and forgotten in light of how hard his life has been since he lied to and abandoned me. He wrote, ‘You said a long time ago that you would always be there for me. Please don’t walk away from that now…’

How dare he?! Could he possibly be so egocentric as to believe that his self-inflicted misery gives him license to drag me back through a hell I have already left far behind? The hell he put me through? Not in my world it doesn’t!

I considered calling him, but wavered between

wanting to force this situation to a close and knowing that there was nothing he could say that would make any difference. A male friend’s advice kept coming back to me, “What is it with you women? You’re over it and now you want to go and call him? You complain about the drama in your life, then you go looking for more!” Hm. Drama was exactly what I didn’t want in my life, and I had been doing a pretty good job of avoiding it. On the other hand, something kept tugging at me. I wasn’t able to put the last note out of my mind as I’d done the others. Should I or shouldn’t I?

Eventually I got tired of thinking about it and picked up the phone.

I started out being really angry. I told him I have no sympathy for him and that I was finally happy, successful and adjusted to my new home. He begged me to listen to him, denying or excusing every allegation until I finally threw my hands in the air and interrupted him.

“Rob. Stop.”

He paused.

“Whether you did or didn’t is no longer the point. Whether you meant to or not is no longer the point. The point is, you hurt me with your selfishness and lies and then left me to get over it. It was hard and I hurt sometimes, but I did it. I got over the pain, and you know what? It turns out that somewhere in all that, I got over you, too. I’m not angry now and I don’t harbor any hard feeling toward you. So go. Do what you have to do to get where you need to go. I hope one day you’ll be as happy and content as I am right now, but there isn’t anything left for us, and I don’t see any sense in staying in touch.”

He was silent for a few moments. When he spoke it was without pleading, quiet and resigned.

“Alright then. Thank you for letting me share your life for a while. You had a great impact on me,” I rolled my eyes heavenward at that. “And you meant a lot to me. Take care of yourself.”

This conversation was finally over — I was gratefully standing in an open doorway. In my mind’s eye, I looked over my shoulder and saw something I knew I would never miss.

“You too, Rob. Have a good life.”

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