What Would You Do?

My boyfriend and I broke up over the Christmas holiday. I had this little hypothesis see, that if I quit doing everything in the relationship (texting, calling, planning get-togethers, scheduling dates) that nothing would happen, that our relationship would fizzle and die because the boyfriend never bothers to call, text, set up dates or even think about me (among several other grievances that aren't appropriate for getting into on the internet).

I was right.

I tested the hypothesis on a Thursday. On Saturday when I still hadn't heard from him, I finally texted him "good-bye" to remind him I was leaving for Christmas holiday, four states away. He'd forgotten. His response, "Damn."

And when was the next time I heard from him?

Monday morning. 12:30am. I was asleep and his text woke me up. "Did you make it home?" Um... that question's not exactly relevant anymore, but yes, I did manage to drive thirteen hours in the two and a half days since I last talked to you. And now I'm sleeping in my bed. Good-night.

It was another six days before I heard from him again. And again, it was one in the morning, and I was so sound asleep the text didn't even wake me. "Merry Christmas, Ann."

"Merry Christmas, boyfriend."

When I got home from holiday, I dropped his already-wrapped presents off (that I'd of course bought before I'd driven home for Christmas) on his parents' front porch. "Most of these I can't return anyway, so I figured I'd just give them to you," I wrote on the card. "See you around."

If he hadn't intended to end the relationship by not communicating with me, then I'd go ahead and clue him in that his inaction was unacceptable, and we were through.

No response.

The next day I texted him again. "I found some of your crap at my house... a shirt, your phone charger, dog food..." the typical post-relationship returning of goods. "Where should I drop them off?"

"Let's meet for lunch."

Huh? My ears perked up. Was he actually expressing interest in our relationship? Did he want to... don't say it... talk?! In person? Not via a once a week text message in the middle of the night?

It was awkward. And I felt sick. Because for all the casualty with which I'm writing this post, I did actually care for him and like him and have high hopes for our relationship. But I also knew I could do better. Contrary to popular belief, there are plenty of men out there who would enjoy not only communicating on a very basic level, but even wooing me, showering me with attention, romance... love. There are lots of people who wouldn't put their job, church, music, nap schedule and ex-girlfriend's

mother as priorities ranked above a meaningful relationship with me. But I digress.

This is the gist of what I heard him say over lunch (which he bought - one point for chivalry)...

• I can be (and was) really self-absorbed
• I admit that I didn't communicate with you well
• You deserve better
• I'm a mess and you're a mess, but I still thinkwe can try and be a mess together
• I value you and youmean a lot to me

Then he tried to give me a present.

"I don't want it." I told him. I knew he hadn't planned ahead enough to buy it for me before Christmas or even during Christmas, but probably only felt bad and had bought it that morning because I had given him such kick-ass gifts two days prior.

"Please, take it. Will you just accept it, please?"

"Fine. But I'm not opening it here. And not in front of you."

"But I need to explain some things."

I didn't want to have to fein excitement if the present sucked (which I was sure it would). Neither did I want to cry if the present was really romantic.

But then one of my students from the job I quit walked into the restaurant. "Fuck." I said through tear-filled eyes. Looking from the gift to the students I realized I could not fein happiness or muster any more of the Christmas cheer from the passing holiday on this day of breaking up with my boyfriend. "I have to go."

I rushed outside and the boyfriend met me at my car. In resignation, I reached in the red bag (did he think he was Santa Claus? Everything was just stuffed in this red bag!) and pulled out the following:

• A journal from his second grade nephew's money-raising school catalogue. I love to write and journals are one of my favorite gifts. He noticed that. "It was for his school, you know," he explained, "so it's a little janky, but it earned him an hour and a half of recess one day at school." The boyfriend values family. And a gift via a little nephew is super cute and awesome. Damn.
• An owl necklace that I saw in an antique store three months ago and loved. I love owls. I love antiques. I love unique jewelry. He listened and remembered. I set down the necklace and tried not to look affected.
• A box of lip gloss. At first I thought, why in the world did he get me make-up when I sell Mary Kay myself? But then when I realized that as I continued to pull box after box out of the little bag, it was all lip gloss. A shit-ton of lip gloss. "Here's some lip gloss to put on when you feel, you know, how you felt..." he trailed off, andthen began to explain what the Sephora lady had told him about each brand. I started to smile. I wear lip gloss and lipstick to help my moods, give me courage, etc. I wore my brightest most purple lipstick when I prayed before the state senate once. I needed confidence and any little thing, even purple-power-lipstick will help. In the three and a half months we'd dated, he took note. And in giving me twenty different lip glosses, he was saying twenty-times over, I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't important to me.

I handed him his shirt, phone charger and dog food. "I'll see you later."

His bottom lip quivered and he lowered his head.

I got in my car, and he walked away.

I turned on the car. Did I make the right decision? That was a super sweet present but, I don't know...

I mean, what would you do if you were me? Would you take him back? Would you be encouraged enough to think things would change? Would two people "being messy together" be incentive enough to risk getting hurt again when you could safely get out now?

Is the lipstick bright enough to cover it?

Oh, Savannah

It was just another night at the theater. Actually, it was supposed to be a special evening. Opening night of my boyfriend's show, an after party and an opportunity to schmooze with theater folks, and hopefully spending some quality time with a man I hadn't seen since tech week started.

That night wasn't meant to be.

Assuming myself to be on top of my game, I drove up to Savannah that Friday in the afternoon so as to avoid rush hour traffic (which lasts from 4-8pm) and assure arriving at the show on time. Bags packed, jewelry chosen, shoes procured and computer bag ready, I met the boyfriend at work to grab the key to his apartment, so I could get some work done before dressing for the theater later that night. However, I discovered upon arrival that there was much drama brewing with his ex's parents who had also planned on attending the show that night (with his parents!), and now had to decide whether they could stand seeing me, the new girlfriend, at the theater.

Gag me.

So in a huff, I plopped down on the couch in his dingy bachelor pad of an apartment and opened my computer. The boyfriend came home from work and left again to get in costume at the theater. At 6:45, I turned on the shower. Water warming, I went out to my car to grab my toiletries and my dress.

Except it wasn't there.

What?!

OMG. I had borrowed that dress from a friend and was SO excited to wear it to opening night and look all cute for the boyfriend and the boyfriend's theater friends, and the boyfriend's ex's parents, but it was gone. Had I not packed it, or had it been stolen? Of course it was the former. In all my brilliant planning I'd left the dress hanging on the door to my bedroom.

To quote my good friend, Bridget Jones, "F******************ck."

I was in a sweatshirt, jeans, had worked in the yard earlier that morning, and hadn't showered in two days. How, how how, would I get clean and get something to wear before the show started at 7:30?

Fortunately, I was in Savannah.

After the fastest shampooing of hair in all my life, I put back on my clothes, grabbed my keys, threw my makeup in the car and drove to Kohl's. Almost in tears at my own stupidity coupled with the undue pressure of the ex's parents hating me, and allotting myself only $10 in mad money a week (since I'm only a part-time nanny now) and knowing I would be spending all of it (and then some) on a stupid new dress that I didn't want from Kohls, at 7:10, I entered the store a sight to be seen.

"Where's your dresses?" I asked the first cashier I saw.

"Oh, all over! Daisy Fuentes is over there, Elle is over there..."

"Never mind," I said curtly and walked toward the nearest section muttering to myself, "Like anyone goes to Kohl's for the brand names, we just want the bargains." Ann, "full of grace," was not living up to her name's sake tonight.

Ten minutes later, I had a acceptable new top on sale for $3.99 and owl earrings matching the yellow shoes I'd brought to wear with the perfect dress I'd left at home. The jeans would stay on. A good idea since there was no time to shave the legs in the one minute shower.

I paid, declined the plastic bag for my purchases and changed in the car. If Savannah was paying attention, there was a peepshow in the parking lot, but I didn't care. Neither did Savannah.

Kohl's had been 3.5 minutes from boyfriend's apartment. Theater was about 4-5 minutes away from Kohl's. Despite the bitterly cold air, in total, that gave me 6-8 minutes of "air-drying" time for my soggy, but clean hair, and with the heat on full blast I rolled down the windows and flew to the theater.

7:34, I parked, put my hair in a pony tail, applied lip gloss and ran inside the theater. Fortunately, the artist director is windy. And it being opening night, she had a lot of people to thank before the show began. 7:36, I was in my seat which I was delighted to discover was right next to some friend's of the boyfriend who I didn't know were going to be there! Yea! "You'll never believe what I've been through tonight..." I started, already jealous of her cute black dress and matching shoes. 7:40 the show began...

Fast forward three weeks.

I had arranged for a girls night in Savannah with some of my friends. We were going to walk around the square for Savannah's Christmas Festival, eat dinner at a local restaurant and then go see boyfriend's show. Unfortunately, none of the girls could make it until after the Festival was over, but having driven up earlier that day, boyfriend and I walked around looking at the jewelry and crafty ornaments and avoiding the screaming children who'd had twelve too many candy canes.

Dinner was good, the play was funny and drinks afterwards with boyfriend and girlfriends was a success. He passed their inspection. The waiter passed me another martini. It was a great night.

I woke up the next morning (still in Savannah) to a lazy Sunday. I had planned on sticking around until church was over so I could teach boyfriend the dance steps for the audition he would have later that day, a show I had auditioned for the day before. As always, I had packed my computer and planned on doing a little writing, a little FB surfing, the usual. But the computer was in the trunk of my car and my keys were... where?

Hmm.

Where were those keys? I texted boyfriend, "Have you seen my keys?" No reply. Well, he was at work, maybe he left his phone in the office. So I dressed and journaled and even applied make-up since I had the time, but still no response, so I texted boyfriend again. "Hey, I can't find my keys, so hurry over here when church is done, okay?" I was getting hungry. A man after my own heart, there was nothing in his fridge besides beer and month-old and molding leftovers. But I heard nothing. At 1pm I started to panic. He had a performance at 2 or 2:30. What if he forgot about me and when straight to the theater? He forgot about me? He forgot about me!

Doomed to ultimate spinsterhood at having been obviously abandoned by my boyfriend, I fretted about what to do. I knocked on the neighbors apartment to see if I could use their computer to look up his parent's phone number and call them to ask for help. No one answered the door. So I put on my coat and walked down the road to the gas station to ask for the yellow pages, praying I wouldn't get mugged or kidnapped (in Savannah, yeah right).

"Hello, yellow cab? Do you have service in Savannah?" Of course they did... for an additional $25 fee. I hung up and began to tear up. A nice woman was putting gas in her car, "Excuse me, would you by chance be heading toward the square?"

"Yes,"

"Well, I think my boyfriend accidentally took my car keys and I was wondering if you could drop me off..."

She shook her head and apologized, "I've got a child in the car, it's not safe."

"Oh yes, of course," I said, understanding, but feeling completely helpless. Would I have to walk 3 miles in dress shoes and across the highway to get to boyfriend's parents house to ask for help?

And then a police car turned on the street. I mustered my gumption and ran after it.

"Excuse me sir, but my boyfriend took my keys and I was just wondering if there is a local taxi service here in Savannah."

"Your boyfriend took your keys? Are you hurt?"

"Am I hurt? Oh no. NO! I think he must have accidentally picked them up. I'm not white trash or anything." Nice. "I'm not white trash or anything." Very classy, Ann.

"Well, there's no cabs here in Savannah, so get in."

And I did.

The seats in cop cars are very uncomfortable. They're plastic, and that's it. No cushion, no fabric. Just a plastic bucket. And the seat belt (which I couldn't actually get on but didn't worry about since I was already in the police car) has a place to hook the handcuffs to. Cah-razy. And I could see the computer screen telling them all about what disturbance had been called in, and by whom and if they had a record, etc. etc.

The cop continued, "Yeah, we had a cab service but it was all ethnic nationals and you couldn't understand a word they were sayin'."

"I can't understand what you're saying," I wanted to reply, but just say, "Oh yeah, I know."

He blabbered on about somebody's girlfriend being in danger and man, he really didn't trust that guy, and who calls in a 911 call about a dog in the street? it's probably a chihuahua and if you don't want it to bite your dog don't let your kid near it.

Fortunately, there was another guy with him in the front seat who also worked for "the force," and he kept up most of the conversation, since I was still kind of traumatized by the fact that I could see the computer screen and wasn't that sort of a privacy issue?

We pulled up to the theater.

"Yeah, my girlfriend says we should go see something at this theater sometime," policeman number one said.

"I worked the festival yesterday," the other replied, "and when my kid saw the poster for The Grinch, he said he wanted to go."

"It's expensive though. Have to wait til payday."

"Okay, well you can just let me off here," I said, looking out the window at boyfriend's fellow actors wide-eyed at the cop car pulled up to the alley.

"We'll have to let you out," cop one replied and laughed.

"Oh right," I said realizing that pulling on the handle to get out of the car was pointless. Cop two opened my door for me and I stepped out as gracefully as I could. "Thanks again!" I hollered and headed to the theater to find my boyfriend and my keys.

And thank you Savannah. Nothing like a little small town chivalry to get you to the theater on time.