Goodbye Short Girl
(you taught me so much)
So. It has finally happened.
It took me a long time - months - to be able to understand my own feelings on the matter, much less be able to write about them. This entry alone took multiple writings, on multiple nights, over multiple months. But I think finally enough distance is between me and the event to have perspective.
Julie and I are no longer together.
This was not a rash decision. I spent months debating it, thinking about the past, the present, and most importantly, the future. I debated what I wanted, what she wanted, my current situation, her prospects for the future, my dreams, her hopes, our realities. And in the end, I determined that the best thing I could do for her was to let her go.
What a massive change in my life.
When something has been with you for six years - more than one-fourth my life, roughly half of my conscious memories - an attachment is natural. When that something is a person, well, the attachment is even greater. And Julie...
She was always the quiet one, the one who never spoke first or laughed too loud or suddenly felt an urge to dance in a public place. The mere idea would embarrass her, as if people she didn't know would, years later, recognize her at a teacher's function as the girl who laughed too loud outside a McDonald's. And to many people, that was Julie; quiet, nice, shy. That was it.
I had the extreme privilege and honor of seeing far beyond that barrier; not just seeing, but being welcome in the fields and grasses beyond the unmenacing but ever-present stone wall that separated her from the outside world. And she was wonderful - a clear, surprisingly eager soul, marked with a love of laughter, of forgiveness, and a fierce desire that was akin to loyalty but something slightly different.
In retrospect I'm not sure how she and I did it; 4 years with me at Villanova and her at Shippensburg, 2 more with her in Richmond and me in Pittsburgh. We survived months of waiting, thousands of dollars in gifts and phone calls, days and weeks of travel and lost sleep. To see her my freshman year, I needed to take the 10 PM train into Philly to get to the bus station at 11:30 PM; catch the 4:30 AM bus to get to Harrisburg at 7 AM; catch the connecting 11:30 AM bus to get to Shippensburg by 3 PM. All in all, 17 hours of overnight, bus-laden travel to see each other for about 1 total day.
I guess it was the special things we brought out in each other that did it. I loved making her laugh, and in her I found a beautiful, life-filled laugh that could go toe-to-toe with any in the world. She loved telling me stories, and in me found an able and willing listener who could provide insight on occasion. And we both loved the requisite common interests - movies, board games, reading, dancing.
Our communication skills grew - a necessary occurrence - and our understanding of each other did too. And in the stolen weekends and all-too-short summers, our relationship was special.
She was a wonderful date who loved chivalry and respected and reciprocated effort put towards her. She never hesitated in returning the favor, and while not the most creative or inventive spirit, she continually came up with gifts and small deeds that were very, very sweet.
That was, and is, her best trait - how she continually overcomes her own natural boundaries.
She was not blessed with amazing intelligence, instead (being born over two months early) suffering a disability that caused her to have trouble with tests. This embarrassed her, as my vocabulary sometimes exceeded hers - but as we went along, her revulsion turned to determination, and her vocabulary began jumping forward by leaps and bounds. That is merely one example of her ability to go beyond her own limitations. When she would make a mistake in our relationship - a serious one, one that cut deep - she threw herself into its healing, giving 100% of herself to make it better, and in turn, make herself better. And she was.
There were already great parts to her. She, like I, was at heart a romantic - caring deeply for a dance to a song in low lights, or a cuddle on a warm couch, or a sheltering arm in the oppressive dark. She had, not a natural inclination, but an understanding of my sense of humor, which sometimes annoyed her, but sometimes made her laugh hysterically when I attacked her with the stuffed shark and she would swear to cut it to pieces with scissors. And while not an experienced lover - neither was I - she was astonishingly open and willing to experiment. A girl who was often was described as 'cute' but hid a dangerous sexy side, she did not hesitate to give of herself while still holding firm to her basic morality.
Admittedly, she - as we all do - had faults. Inclined to worry, she would leave me 15 text messages at a time if I forgot my phone on a night she didn't expect, or leave 6 voicemails if she was lonely. She started with very low self-esteem, coming from a divorced household and a single-parent, no-siblings upbringing, and dismissed her own beauty, intelligence, or humor. As an offshoot of that, she could get angry, bitterly angry at the beginning of the relationship, a trait that she worked on and conquered by her junior year. But she always had - and maybe always will have - a jealous streak, a battle she constantly fought with herself that was probably another offshoot of her self-esteem. On rare occasions, this would even lead her to say or do things she regretted.
But that's not why I let her go.
She never had, or truly even grasped the importance of, my imagination. This mostly describes my love of writing (and reading) fantasy, but it included other things. My love of creativity and occasional spontaneity of life was something she never understood. She never read my fantasy story, nor showed more than passing interest in its status. She commented on why I would bother to write a synopsis to my teammates of dodgeball or basketball games. She has never even - to the best of my knowledge - read a word of this blog, or known of its existence. Whereas with Margaret, in who I found a willing soul that shared a love of fantasy, of imaginging or at least visiting a world other than this dreary one, on some level Julie understood that Margaret and I (as well as Martin and I) shared a connection that she not only lacked, but was unable to acquire or learn. Small wonder of her jealousy of both of them.
She remained jealous of my accomplishments. For a time, I was unable to tell Julie how much fun I had going out with friends, as she (having recently moved to Richmond) was unable to do the same. With Barbara, I found a willing supporter, someone who could quietly take my side and hover protectively, any desire to have similar results for herself purely in a way that did not begrudge my own results, and who genuinely wished me the best in everything I did. The difference between envy and jealousy has now been made crystal clear to me through countless examples of this. To her credit (as usual), Julie fought against her own inclinations, trying to emotionally wrench herself into being genuinely happy for me despite her jealousy. I ached watching her try to fight her own inclination at jealousy - a fight she refused to give up on, no matter how bitter the antidote. But it was always a fight.
And she hated not talking to me, purposely keeping me on the phone if she felt we hadn't talked enough. I have been friends with Jess for years despite going months without contact at a time. Julie feared days.
Was that why I let her go?
No. None of those things ever stopped her. She never stopped fighting her jealousy, got more comfortable with me being away, and even amazingly conquered her anger. She never stopped trying to be the best person she could for me and for herself... though I eventually helped her see that she should be the best person she could for herself and then me.
And that was our relationship - one like most others, I suppose, only over 6 years of distance. It was a wonderful time.
But what really made the relationship special were the traits I never expected anyone to have, much less her. And these will be the things I will truly miss - as I doubt any other woman will ever meet this description.
She was so cute when she wore pajamas. I don't know why. But she was. Cloud pajamas, frog pajamas, my volleyball t-shirt. It was endearing.
At Shippen Place, where we would rent a hotel room as a Valentine's Day gift, she and I would spend a wonderful night learning about ourselves and each other, what we liked and what we didn't and why. But the best part was afterwards, where she would cuddle up next to me as I laid on my back amid the tangled sheets, and she would fit perfectly into the nook of my arm. It was like something out of a movie - if the actor in the movie was 6'7" and the actress was 4'9".
She had a special shriek-laugh that would only occur when I would make her laugh particularly hard or attack her with the shark when she was in a good mood. The sound was something I would do anything for, and upon hearing it we would both laugh ourselves sick for two or three minutes, tears forming at our eyes.
Her sweet, thoughtful gifts, always meaningful, always beautiful, always special. When I got her a figurine of a dragon carrying a fairy in the crook of his arm - how I viewed our relationship - she gave me a dragon figurine of crystal, rearing back and breathing fire. She did not, and may never, understand fantasy or be able to create or help create one iota of a non-real world. But somewhere she understood that I could. I wonder if she knew how much that meant to me.
And she had faith. Endless, endless faith. In me. In our relationship. And when we sat down and talked, she and I cried and thought and talked and cried again. And through it all, she understood that it was for the best... and maybe, in the future, we would be stronger people and realize that we really are the best for each other. Maybe not - but the door will always be left open a crack for her.
May I be forgiven for portraying her in these intensely emotional, intensely personal rememberances that somehow still seem cold and limited as words on a page. She deserves so much more. She deserves the best, because Julie is so much more than that - vibrant, lovely, cute, sweet, truthful, beautiful, sexy, loving, great.
And short.
Goodbye, short girl. We'll date other people and learn more about ourselves and maybe learn more about what we had. Maybe we'll find eternal happiness with other people. Maybe we'll just stay friends, or close confidants. But maybe some day we'll discover - at the end of all things - we're destined to walk the rest of life's path together.
Deep down, a part of me hopes so. You were one of the best things to ever happen to me.
So. It has finally happened.
It took me a long time - months - to be able to understand my own feelings on the matter, much less be able to write about them. This entry alone took multiple writings, on multiple nights, over multiple months. But I think finally enough distance is between me and the event to have perspective.
Julie and I are no longer together.
This was not a rash decision. I spent months debating it, thinking about the past, the present, and most importantly, the future. I debated what I wanted, what she wanted, my current situation, her prospects for the future, my dreams, her hopes, our realities. And in the end, I determined that the best thing I could do for her was to let her go.
What a massive change in my life.
When something has been with you for six years - more than one-fourth my life, roughly half of my conscious memories - an attachment is natural. When that something is a person, well, the attachment is even greater. And Julie...
She was always the quiet one, the one who never spoke first or laughed too loud or suddenly felt an urge to dance in a public place. The mere idea would embarrass her, as if people she didn't know would, years later, recognize her at a teacher's function as the girl who laughed too loud outside a McDonald's. And to many people, that was Julie; quiet, nice, shy. That was it.
I had the extreme privilege and honor of seeing far beyond that barrier; not just seeing, but being welcome in the fields and grasses beyond the unmenacing but ever-present stone wall that separated her from the outside world. And she was wonderful - a clear, surprisingly eager soul, marked with a love of laughter, of forgiveness, and a fierce desire that was akin to loyalty but something slightly different.
In retrospect I'm not sure how she and I did it; 4 years with me at Villanova and her at Shippensburg, 2 more with her in Richmond and me in Pittsburgh. We survived months of waiting, thousands of dollars in gifts and phone calls, days and weeks of travel and lost sleep. To see her my freshman year, I needed to take the 10 PM train into Philly to get to the bus station at 11:30 PM; catch the 4:30 AM bus to get to Harrisburg at 7 AM; catch the connecting 11:30 AM bus to get to Shippensburg by 3 PM. All in all, 17 hours of overnight, bus-laden travel to see each other for about 1 total day.
I guess it was the special things we brought out in each other that did it. I loved making her laugh, and in her I found a beautiful, life-filled laugh that could go toe-to-toe with any in the world. She loved telling me stories, and in me found an able and willing listener who could provide insight on occasion. And we both loved the requisite common interests - movies, board games, reading, dancing.
Our communication skills grew - a necessary occurrence - and our understanding of each other did too. And in the stolen weekends and all-too-short summers, our relationship was special.
She was a wonderful date who loved chivalry and respected and reciprocated effort put towards her. She never hesitated in returning the favor, and while not the most creative or inventive spirit, she continually came up with gifts and small deeds that were very, very sweet.
That was, and is, her best trait - how she continually overcomes her own natural boundaries.
She was not blessed with amazing intelligence, instead (being born over two months early) suffering a disability that caused her to have trouble with tests. This embarrassed her, as my vocabulary sometimes exceeded hers - but as we went along, her revulsion turned to determination, and her vocabulary began jumping forward by leaps and bounds. That is merely one example of her ability to go beyond her own limitations. When she would make a mistake in our relationship - a serious one, one that cut deep - she threw herself into its healing, giving 100% of herself to make it better, and in turn, make herself better. And she was.
There were already great parts to her. She, like I, was at heart a romantic - caring deeply for a dance to a song in low lights, or a cuddle on a warm couch, or a sheltering arm in the oppressive dark. She had, not a natural inclination, but an understanding of my sense of humor, which sometimes annoyed her, but sometimes made her laugh hysterically when I attacked her with the stuffed shark and she would swear to cut it to pieces with scissors. And while not an experienced lover - neither was I - she was astonishingly open and willing to experiment. A girl who was often was described as 'cute' but hid a dangerous sexy side, she did not hesitate to give of herself while still holding firm to her basic morality.
Admittedly, she - as we all do - had faults. Inclined to worry, she would leave me 15 text messages at a time if I forgot my phone on a night she didn't expect, or leave 6 voicemails if she was lonely. She started with very low self-esteem, coming from a divorced household and a single-parent, no-siblings upbringing, and dismissed her own beauty, intelligence, or humor. As an offshoot of that, she could get angry, bitterly angry at the beginning of the relationship, a trait that she worked on and conquered by her junior year. But she always had - and maybe always will have - a jealous streak, a battle she constantly fought with herself that was probably another offshoot of her self-esteem. On rare occasions, this would even lead her to say or do things she regretted.
But that's not why I let her go.
She never had, or truly even grasped the importance of, my imagination. This mostly describes my love of writing (and reading) fantasy, but it included other things. My love of creativity and occasional spontaneity of life was something she never understood. She never read my fantasy story, nor showed more than passing interest in its status. She commented on why I would bother to write a synopsis to my teammates of dodgeball or basketball games. She has never even - to the best of my knowledge - read a word of this blog, or known of its existence. Whereas with Margaret, in who I found a willing soul that shared a love of fantasy, of imaginging or at least visiting a world other than this dreary one, on some level Julie understood that Margaret and I (as well as Martin and I) shared a connection that she not only lacked, but was unable to acquire or learn. Small wonder of her jealousy of both of them.
She remained jealous of my accomplishments. For a time, I was unable to tell Julie how much fun I had going out with friends, as she (having recently moved to Richmond) was unable to do the same. With Barbara, I found a willing supporter, someone who could quietly take my side and hover protectively, any desire to have similar results for herself purely in a way that did not begrudge my own results, and who genuinely wished me the best in everything I did. The difference between envy and jealousy has now been made crystal clear to me through countless examples of this. To her credit (as usual), Julie fought against her own inclinations, trying to emotionally wrench herself into being genuinely happy for me despite her jealousy. I ached watching her try to fight her own inclination at jealousy - a fight she refused to give up on, no matter how bitter the antidote. But it was always a fight.
And she hated not talking to me, purposely keeping me on the phone if she felt we hadn't talked enough. I have been friends with Jess for years despite going months without contact at a time. Julie feared days.
Was that why I let her go?
No. None of those things ever stopped her. She never stopped fighting her jealousy, got more comfortable with me being away, and even amazingly conquered her anger. She never stopped trying to be the best person she could for me and for herself... though I eventually helped her see that she should be the best person she could for herself and then me.
And that was our relationship - one like most others, I suppose, only over 6 years of distance. It was a wonderful time.
But what really made the relationship special were the traits I never expected anyone to have, much less her. And these will be the things I will truly miss - as I doubt any other woman will ever meet this description.
She was so cute when she wore pajamas. I don't know why. But she was. Cloud pajamas, frog pajamas, my volleyball t-shirt. It was endearing.
At Shippen Place, where we would rent a hotel room as a Valentine's Day gift, she and I would spend a wonderful night learning about ourselves and each other, what we liked and what we didn't and why. But the best part was afterwards, where she would cuddle up next to me as I laid on my back amid the tangled sheets, and she would fit perfectly into the nook of my arm. It was like something out of a movie - if the actor in the movie was 6'7" and the actress was 4'9".
She had a special shriek-laugh that would only occur when I would make her laugh particularly hard or attack her with the shark when she was in a good mood. The sound was something I would do anything for, and upon hearing it we would both laugh ourselves sick for two or three minutes, tears forming at our eyes.
Her sweet, thoughtful gifts, always meaningful, always beautiful, always special. When I got her a figurine of a dragon carrying a fairy in the crook of his arm - how I viewed our relationship - she gave me a dragon figurine of crystal, rearing back and breathing fire. She did not, and may never, understand fantasy or be able to create or help create one iota of a non-real world. But somewhere she understood that I could. I wonder if she knew how much that meant to me.
And she had faith. Endless, endless faith. In me. In our relationship. And when we sat down and talked, she and I cried and thought and talked and cried again. And through it all, she understood that it was for the best... and maybe, in the future, we would be stronger people and realize that we really are the best for each other. Maybe not - but the door will always be left open a crack for her.
May I be forgiven for portraying her in these intensely emotional, intensely personal rememberances that somehow still seem cold and limited as words on a page. She deserves so much more. She deserves the best, because Julie is so much more than that - vibrant, lovely, cute, sweet, truthful, beautiful, sexy, loving, great.
And short.
Goodbye, short girl. We'll date other people and learn more about ourselves and maybe learn more about what we had. Maybe we'll find eternal happiness with other people. Maybe we'll just stay friends, or close confidants. But maybe some day we'll discover - at the end of all things - we're destined to walk the rest of life's path together.
Deep down, a part of me hopes so. You were one of the best things to ever happen to me.
posted by Mat | 2:05 PM
