The Boyfriend Chronicles: Eric One
The Boyfriend Chronicles: Eric One
August December 1997
(Originally posted 9/30/2003)
I hesitate to write about Eric, because I’m torn between telling the truth (not pretty) and the loyalty I feel to him as a result of his being the only boyfriend who was really sweet to me. Not that my other boyfriends were monsters (only some of them), but Eric was really, really nice. I think maybe that’s why I got bored eventually. Too much “whatever you want, dear” and not enough “hey, let’s go do something crazy”. He never had an opinion, never tried anything new, never made the first move and never approved of change.
Eric was a Virgo down to the last detail. He had the same haircut since high school. He washed and detailed his new Hyundai (he always bought a Hyundai) every Saturday at the same time (he even put me on smoking probation when he found traces of ash on the rear windshield ledge). He always ate the same meals at the same restaurants. He never rearranged his furniture. As my mother said in a rare moment of honest insight, “If you married him, it’d be roast beef on Monday, fish on Tuesday, ham on Wednesday for the rest of your life.” For an adventurous soul like me, it was a match made in dating purgatory.
Eric was Mike’s best friend, but I actually had met him first. I thought he was cute, but never talked to him much. After Mike and I split up, Eric helped me pick up the pieces and proved to be a good friend. A few months later, a backrub turned into an *ahem* front rub, then went to kissing, and before you could say ‘Rebound’, a new relationship was born.
He was so kind to me. He took the day off for my birthday and we drove to Baltimore’s Inner Harbor where he paid for everything. He let me dress him up in a tux, spats and a top hat for Halloween, then spent the entire evening at my side, getting me drinks and making small talk with my friends. He got along with my whole family, even joining us at church for Christmas Eve. When he got the flu the day we were supposed to go to a hockey game together, he gave me both of the so-close-to-the-bench-you-can-smell-the-sweat tickets and told me to take whoever I wanted (I took Dad). And when I made the painful — an ultimately short-lived — decision to move far away, he got together with my company’s audio visual guru to make me a farewell video.
I guess I should have known what kind of guy he was the day I picked up my voicemail and heard my favorite song. There was no intro, no explanation, just three minutes of Live’s ‘Turn My Head’ pumped into my phone from his desktop radio. It became our song, and if we arrived someplace before it finished playing, he’d wait to turn the car off until it finished. Now that, my friends, is a romantic. But that was sort of the problem. It was all roses and poetry and no reality. I know, I know — we women are never happy, but that’s not true. I was happy for a while, but then I got tired of doing all the talking, making all the decisions and taking charge in the bedroom. I wanted him to say, “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t I make us reservations at that new Thai restaurant downtown?” or “What do you think about that new [fill in the blank] on the news the other night? Crazy, huh?” Anything.
I knew he loved me and I knew he wanted to be with me, but I never felt his participation in the ways I crave. I could not engage his mind and I got tired of exercising mine alone after a while. And things in the bedroom were not going all that well. I will not insult him by going into detail, but the sweetness of waking up to find him watching me sleep was somewhat dulled by the fact that I’d rather have been doing something other than sleeping.
I know I’ve written about this next incident before, but the thing that best sums up what was wrong was a conversation we had over dinner at my favorite restaurant. I was having the special; a Creamy Garlic Shiitake Risotto with a glass of Chardonnay, while he ordered his usual — New York Strip steak done medium-well ,with a baked potato, a side salad topped with house Italian and a Yeungling Lager or a Honey Brown. As I waxed rapturous on the supreme tastiness of my selection, I was moved to share.
“Oh, E. You’ve got to try this risotto. It’s amazing!”
“Nah. I don’t like risotto.”
“How do you know?” I asked, a little puzzled.
“Because.”
I waited a beat, wondering if he would explain. “Have you ever tried it?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know you don’t like it?”
“I just do.”
I was tempted for a moment to throw my dish at him in exasperation, but gave up instead. I don’t mean I just gave up on getting him to see the nonsense of his reasoning, I mean I gave up altogether. The moment so perfectly encapsulated all I felt was wrong with us that I couldn’t ignore it any more. I wanted more, and as torn as I was between being grateful for how much he loved me and letting him down easy before we got in any deeper, I had to choose the latter when the subject finally came up.
Unfortunately, the subject happened to come up on New Year’s Eve.
Our plans with another couple had been cancelled, so we sat in my parents’ basement rec room and watched movies for a while, until the talk moved onto the subject of relationships. I felt like I was on a speeding train coming to a fork and I had to throw the switch or risk having an irreversible decision made for me. I tried for a while to move the conversation in another direction, but it was obvious he was looking for some kind of declaration from me, which was typical. I was always the one to say where we were in our relationship and what steps were next — he merely followed my direction without question. I knew the answer I was going to give him wasn’t the one he wanted, but I couldn’t lie to him either.
Fortunately, Eric is a forgiving soul and we are still friends to this day. The last night before I left for Texas, he held me tight and got all choked up when he said how much he would miss me. It touched me deeply, and made me realize that we make better friends than lovers. As much as I love him and always will, I know he’s just not the one for me.
But it’s good to know he still loves me too.
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