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July 16th, 2011 at 5:01 pm
Dear Sugar,
I’m writing in response to your column #77, “The Truth That Lives There”. Oh – and also the one about The Obliterated Place, which was the most moving, humane, amazing thing I think I’ve ever read on the Net. Maybe off; both the letter and your response were that good, and helped me feel less alone in the death of my own father, mother and brother.
Anyway, about #77: I both agree and disagree with the statement ‘Just wanting to leave is enough’. I was married for nine years to a man I still think of as my soul mate in many ways – funny, brilliant, kind, supportive, and (though my commie soul hates to give this fact any credibility) successful. He made me laugh harder and more often than anyone I’ve ever met. All my friends and family thought he was A Great Guy.
However, I was miserable. Like you, I also had that voice whispering “Go,” sometimes more urgently than others, but still always there. I have my journal from that era. When I met him and we became friends, I wrote: “He’s great, but for some reason I can’t figure out, I want to warn my Future Self reading this to NOT DATE HIM.” After we were dating, there’s an entry saying “Okay, we’re dating, but DON’T MARRY HIM.” I didn’t know why I felt that way, I just did. Long story short, we are not together anymore, and (also like you) I loved him too much to do it cleanly – I did it about as dirty as you can, having affairs with both genders and also becoming a drug addict (I’m a flawed human being, just like the rest of us, says my Defensive Voice in anticipation of the bashings to come should this ever be posted). BTW, I’m not a drug addict (actively) anymore.
The point of the preceding is that I was in a marriage for years with the proverbial Perfect Guy. And I left him.
These days, I am in another long-term relationship, with a man that many people think is “beneath me”. He had a horrible childhood, and brings no family or long-time friends to the table. He was kicked out of his home at age 13, and lived on the streets for many years, doing what he had to do to survive. He’s got some neurological issues – he’s very ADD, and kind of manic sometimes. He’s just now learning how to be a cap-G Grownup, instead of a street urchin/older street urchin (he’s 36). Oh, and he’s been chronically ill for the past three years, though it was recently diagnosed and he’s on the mend. He’s been unable to work or help out around the house much, for three. Long. Years.
Point being: Every nerve in my body tells me “You should be feeling like you need to Go. You should WANT to leave this person.” But I don’t. And here’s why:
The things I wrote about him above might make him sound like a poor choice, but this guy has the biggest, kindest, least judgmental, most open heart. He’s wise, both street- and emotion-, and incredibly bright, although in an Encyclopedia-Brown, fact-retainy kind of way. He’s funny, sometimes, though not as funny (to me) as my ex, the Perfect Guy. He knows how to fix EVerything. He can live off the land, and has. Our first date, he took me on a walk through a park in San Francisco, and picked me an amazing salad from the trees and plants there. Second date? He gave me a lock and a set of picks he’d made from street-sweeper blades, and taught me to pick locks (oh, just to round out the Bad Choice roster, he spent 3 years in prison on a marijuana possession charge when he was 18, and they – get this – let him take a Locksmithing course in prison).
Yes, he’s damaged. Yes, he’s hard to live with, frequently. Yes, he is not a Provider, and doesn’t bring family to the sadly family-deprived table of my life.
But I love him deeply. The sex is amazing. He’s a great friend. And – I guess this is the point – he’s incredibly, staggeringly loyal and true. Because he fucks up, I can fuck up without feeling like a horrible person, and also, because he fucks up, I am not driven by my sometimes crazy, self-destructive nature to fuck up just to rock the god damned Perfection Boat, for fuck’s sake, as I sometimes was with Perfect Guy.
There are times when I think “I’d be better off on my own,” but don’t we all think that, even if it’s just in the heat of a fight and we immediately go back to NOT feeling like that? The fact is, I want to be in a long-term committed relationship, and I want it with this guy, and not just because I’m on a Mother Teresa kick of rescuing the gutter-punk. It’s more that he loves me strongly and well, and understands me, and also, I think leaving is something people do way too quickly and easily these days (not you, Sug; I get that you needed to go). Put all the flaws and weirdness, plus the huge heart and loyal nature and lack of judgments and amazing sex of the man I’m with that on a little doily; and then on the silver Lalique platter next to it, stack all the material wealth and un-damagedness and lack of fuckups of Perfect Guy, and I’ll take the doily.
I don’t think “wanting to leave” is enough – I think “wanting to leave more often and with greater emotional fervor than NOT wanting to leave, and having that be true for long enough that you’re pretty sure it’s not going to change” is.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with sticking it out through a particularly strong patch of Wanting To Leave. Things change, and there’s something beautiful, and still, and sacred about Staying, too. Through the boredom and the annoyances and the fiscal worries, I still sometimes watch him sleeping, and feel so bonded and comforted and horny and lucky, together with all the bad/boring stuff. The whole package is worth sticking with, for me, in this relationship; I’m not telling anyone else what they should or shouldn’t do.
Anyway, I’ll close by saying I’m glad I found you – you’re a terrific writer, and you have the ability (clear from reading the comments to your pieces) to make people feel less alone in this baffling, weird, neato, but scary world. Including me. So thanks, Sugar.
XO, SLB
February 20th, 2013 at 8:18 pm
Dear Sugar,
I started a new career in July of 2012. I remember being so intimidated the moment I walked through the front door. The man who was about to interview me was stunningly beautiful. I have never been one to believe in love at first sight..until I met him.
I thought I completely blew my interview since my gaga looks were effecting my ability to speak. I was shocked and pleased when I got the final phone call stating that I landed the job.
It wasn’t until much later that I found out my boss had told the owner he didn’t want to hire me because he wanted to take me out on a date. Fortunately the owner of the company overruled him.
Over the small course of two weeks my boss and I tried our best to ignore the attraction we shared for one another and remain professional…that idea failed miserably.
Against better judgement and many conversations later we broke the companies dating policy and eventually let it be known.
I was surprised by the speedy amount of time it took me to become completely enamored by him. After a month of knowing this man I moved in with him. We spent every waking hour together.
His passion for the community and appreciation for life inspired me in so many ways. This amazing man always had something soothing to say.
For the first time in my still semi-young life I knew what true love felt like. We didn’t feel the need to express verbally how much we loved each other. I could tell by his eyes and the adoring look he always gave me that I meant the world to him. He became my world. Everything I waked and breathed for. I was safe with him and felt so secure at all times.
After becoming overwhelmed with our surroundings and fed up with our small town, we collectively and spontaneously decided to move out West together (something we both aspired to do).
Soon after he resigned from his position within the organization. I however decided to stay to help fulfill my role. Each morning as I would leave for work my love had breakfast ready for me, a lunch packed, coffee in a mug, and my car started up and ridded of any snow. How spoiled was I?
He spent his days selling his belongings on Craigslist and applying for many jobs in our desired new location. We decided that the less items we possessed the easier the transition would be. Since he had a law degree and the communication skills anybody would desire to have he didn’t have a problem getting phone calls back.
My last day of work came quickly. It was a Wednesday. We planned on moving the upcoming Monday. I was ecstatic to start a new exciting life with the man I adored wholeheartedly.
After work that day I came home a little later than expected. I was unable to get a hold of him for hours prior to arriving. An unsettling feeling of nervousness rushed through my body.
Once I got home I searched for him. His therapy dog and companion was downstairs waiting to greet me. I walked straight upstairs and opened the door to our bedroom. I didn’t see him. I tried to remain calm and went downstairs to work on my computer. As I munched on hummus and watched a movie my nervousness grew bigger. Realizing his dog was no longer by my side I headed back upstairs to find her. His dog was in our closet laying by my boyfriends feet. He had hung himself while I was at work. He was the most positive person I’ve ever met. He never failed to make me smile. I may go my entire life without knowing why he felt the need to do what is now done.
The images of that night haunt me everyday. I walk by a closet and I cringe. I see hummus and it feels like someone punched me in the stomach. I try to stay busy, Sugar. Sometimes it’s so hard to get through the days. My world feels like it has broken into pieces around me. I ponder how I will make it through this.
I’ve accepted a position at a nearby company and decided to stay in my hometown. I’ve found that my support system and many positive thoughts are the only thing that has kept me going. Staying busy is my best distraction from reality. When it becomes dark outside it never fails that I’ll begin to cry myself to sleep.
How do I get past this, Sugar. I miss my rock, I miss my world.
Sincerely,
Broken World
April 24th, 2013 at 6:18 pm
Dear Broken World,
Your letter made my eyes well up. How devastating. I am almost 60 years old, and life has taught me this: There are some things that will forever be a mystery, and the sooner you accept this, the less you will suffer. I don’t mean to minimize your pain at all; it’s just that life is short, and we must understand that there are some things we have no control over. I had 2 suicides in my family-one was my mother when I was three. There is no way I could have been responsible for what she did, any more than you are responsible for what he did. You sound like an honest, loving, caring individual and you will eventually find happiness again. In the meantime, know 2 things: 1) It was not your fault and 2) there is more joy out there.
Find something you love to do and let your world develop from there