When You Jump the Gun

If you would’ve asked me in September if I thought Paul would still be in Pennsylvania and we’d still be together, I probably would’ve said no.

He interviewed for a job with U.S. Steel that would’ve had him training here for a month then in Illionois for three, rotating like that for a year. It was a good job and a job he needed, but we had just come off being long distance–and a big part of what I think carried us both through long distance was they knowledge that it had a definitive end, a kind of payoff where we’d actually be within reasonable driving distance.

He was excited about it. I wasn’t–at all. Not only was I not excited, but I was bothered that he was so excited and willing to just truck it away for months at a time, far enough away that me visiting wasn’t an option because no way can I afford it. We later came up with a visiting plan, but in retrospect, there’s no way I could’ve actually afforded to fly there. So in retrospect, we probably wouldn’t have lasted if he got and took the job. At the very least, I would’ve wanted a break until he was home for good. I didn’t have it in me to do long distance again, not for a year.

Had I been in his position, I wouldn’t have even interviewed for it. When I was looking for jobs, I never once looked away from the Pittsburgh area because I didn’t want to leave him.

I took his willingness to leave as a willingness to leave me, and he took my resistance as holding him back–all before he had even gone on the interview.

When I told him I was upset, he ignored me. He never does that. So I matched his stubbornness with my own, and we spent almost a full 24 without speaking. We never do that. And I knew I was being ignored, which made me furious instead of just a little sad. I caved and said something like, “Well, either you’re busy or you don’t care.”

Funnily enough, I don’t remember most of the details anymore. We both cried. I felt like I wasn’t worth staying for, he felt like he wasn’t worth waiting for, and in the end he had ignored me because his dad suggested it, because that’s how his dad handles his mom’s temper. I’m not his mom. Giving me a day to cool off really just makes me truly stew in my fury, and you get it a lot worse than you would have had you just dealt with me from the start.

He came over that Friday night, prepared for anything, and I cried some more. We worked it out somehow. We had rough make-up sex, except apparently everything hadn’t been resolved because we had more talks afterwards. That pissed me off pretty seriously, too, but we still worked that all out somehow, too.

Eventually, I was mostly okay with him going but he’d also said he wouldn’t take it. And like I said, in retrospect, it probably would’ve ended us, and he even asked me that straight out.

He didn’t get the job anyway. We put ourselves through all of that bullshit for nothing, all because his excitement got the best of him and left me feeling unimportant. Lesson learned, kids.

And somehow, here we are some months later, talking about moving to Erie together–and again before he’s even got the job in question. Some things never change.

But I think we both need to get out of this damn county.


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