Showing posts with label Idaho. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Idaho. Show all posts

Friday, June 8, 2018

My Adult Dating Life: Katie



A Look Back at My Relationship with Katie

I met Katie on Match.com, one of the primary dating options in Mormon-laded Idaho Falls. She was a single mother with a six-year-old son, working her way through college. She was pretty, brash, personable, and incredibly driven. She was also three years older than me, which would later become an issue.

In the beginning, our relationship was great. We'd hang out and have sex, and it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. But reality always set in. She would go home, and I'd be left alone in my apartment—or not really alone, since I had my friend, alcohol, to keep me company.

As time went on, I met her son. She warned me that he had severe emotional issues (she was correct) and occasional (frequent) violent outbursts, and to be honest, he and I never really got along. It's hard to say, but he wasn't an easy kid to like. He was emotional, rude, dramatic, explosive, and often hurtful to his mom. While all of these things drove me crazy, I said nothing at first.

Months passed, and as I felt more comfortable, I began to speak my mind about he treated her. This never went well. Her son would freak out, Katie would freak out, and everyone ended up miserable. If you take that one event and imagine it happening three times a week over three years, you'll get an idea of what our daily life was like.


The Toll of a Toxic Cycle

It was difficult to watch the stress her job and her son took on Katie. When we were stressed, we drank. When we were happy, we drank. We found an excuse to drink for every occasion. My own drinking progressed until I became very sick. I spent months in the hospital with several medical scares that nearly killed me. I missed months of work and worried if my life would ever be the same...but also worried it would be exactly the same. 

During this time, Katie got a new job. It was great news—a huge pay raise—but it meant many more hours. She became a different person. "Stressed" doesn't even begin to describe it. Her fuse became incredibly short, and angry outbursts became the norm as did "wine nights. 

I tried talking with her about it a few times, but the conversations always went poorly, so we stopped talking about anything. We ignored it, and I drank even more, even though I knew I shouldn't have. We'd "break up" a few times, and many of my things would get broken outside my dump of an apartment, but then we'd get back together. Despite everything, no one was happy.

"Not happy? Buy a house! Not happy? Get married!" Makes sense, right? That's what we planned to do, and as the days got closer, I began to wonder, "Is this what I want for the rest of my life?" Sadly, I contemplated these decisions while drunk, which only made things 1,000% worse.


The Aftermath

On April 25, 2018, I pulled the plug on everything: the job, the wedding, the house—everything. After four years, I was done. I was drinking myself to death. I was miserable, unhappy, and 1,600 miles away from all my friends and family. I left almost everything I owned behind, still not sure if I'll ever see any of it again. I got in my car and tried to go home.

In the aftermath, Katie hates me, and rightfully so. I  burned all my professional bridges in a place I called home for a few years.

What now? That's an excellent question. I'm trying to figure that out. Sometimes, knowing what you don't want is just as important as knowing what you do want. At least, that's what I'm telling myself to get through tonight...it's 3:17AM. 

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Smoking! (And other reasons women have broken up with me)

When I started thinking about why women have ended things with me, a few reasons came to mind. Here they are, in no particular order:

  • Their mom told them to break up with me. (Yes, this happened with my ex-wife.)

  • They couldn't see a future with me.

  • They typically date guys who are "more fit." (This really makes me question the "honesty is the best policy" thing.)

  • They wanted to get back together with an ex.

  • They love oral sex way too much.

(I made up one of those. You can guess which one.)


New Reasons 

Recently, I've run into two new and rather unique reasons for getting dumped:

  • "Because your mom is technically my boss."

  • "Because smoking cigarettes is more important to me than this."

Let me break these down for you.


The Boss's Daughter 

Yes, her mom was technically my boss—and I mean that literally. My boss found out we were dating and told her daughter to call things off, and she did. This one felt all too familiar, echoing my first reason.


The Smoking Issue 

This one was truly fascinating. I met Deb on Match.com. She was spunky, cute, fun, and not Mormon, but she smoked like a chimney. Now, smoking is usually a deal-breaker for me, but I'll be honest, I was running out of options. We lived an hour apart and would hang out about once a week. We'd have a few drinks, she'd smoke, and I'd pretend it didn't bother me.

I did eventually tell her that I wasn't a fan and that it did bother me. She would go off to smoke away from me, and I never said another word about it. Other than the smoking, we got along really well. We communicated effectively, laughed a lot, and genuinely enjoyed each other's company.

This all changed last week when she dropped a bombshell: she needed to smoke regularly without feeling like I was judging her. I pointed out that I never said anything to her about it, and she agreed. But she was clear: smoking was a part of who she was, and she didn't feel I was supportive (which, to be fair, I wasn't). So, that was it. I drove my butt back home.

It's been a week since all this B.S., and I'm still trying to make sense of it. I feel like I was in a no-win situation. Maybe the lesson here is that I shouldn't make compromises on things that are important to me—and it seems smoking counts as one of those. Or maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and accept people for who they are.

Maybe I just need to move on.

Sunday, January 4, 2015

Land of (No) Opportunity

The Land of the Majority

I've never really had to struggle with being an outsider. I grew up in a small, rural town, and while we were "dirt poor" at times, I was surrounded by other lower-middle-class white kids just like me. I was always part of the majority.


A Necessary Move to Idaho

A few months ago, I moved to Idaho for a teaching job. It had been almost four years since I graduated college, and despite a few close calls, I hadn't been able to land a position. When Idaho offered me a job, I packed my meager belongings, left everything I had ever known, and moved to a state I knew nothing about.

What I didn't fully realize was that my new hometown was over 80% Mormon. As an atheist, I honestly didn't care. I believe people are people, and I was ready to move on with my life.

I couldn't have been more wrong.


The Loneliness of Being an Outlier

The people here are incredibly polite—friendly to a fault, but at a distance. They'll offer help during the workday, but they won't invite you over for dinner. From what I've gathered, once they decide you're not part of their community, you're an outsider. For the first time in my life, I'm the one who isn't the "norm." I do have a few non-LDS friends, but we're the outliers here.


Putting My Personal Life on Hold

So, how does this relate to dating? My dating pool doesn't exist. When I said that 80% of the population is Mormon, that wasn't a plea for sympathy; it's a U.S. Census statistic. This move was necessary for my career, and I accept that. But it has also forced me to understand a type of loneliness I never truly appreciated before.

I've been alone for most of the decade since my divorce, so I'm comfortable being by myself. I've had a few relationships, but for the most part, I'm used to being single.

 However, living here has made me realize what it's like to be without the opportunity to meet someone. It feels as if I'm advancing my professional life while putting my personal life on hold. After a decade, being alone is starting to feel like a habit, and another year in an environment that only reinforces that feeling absolutely terrifies me.