August 13, 2010

  • Dear Misanthrope: My Life With Pat, Part 6

    (My Life With Pat: December 1991-May 1995)
    Begun 9/13/05 Finished 8/11/10
    I am marking a milestone here on WhenWordsCollide with this blog entry. This is the first one of my "serialized novels and reminiscences" that I've actually finished. (And it only took me five years to do it!) This chapter concludes the story of "My Life With Pat".
    Individual chapters can be accessed from the chapter titles below.
    What has gone before: Pat and I get together at our company Christmas party in 1991 and immediately start seeing each other. Ignoring the consternation of my friends, who believe I'm making a dreaded mistake, I move in with Pat and her two kids, 12 and 14. We first live in her two bedroom apartment, and then move to first one, then a second rented home when Pat believes her son Charlie is falling in with a gang element at school. Pat and I are on very different wavelengths, but I'm in love with her, and I want to "save her" by giving her a great life unlike what she has previously experienced. She doesn't really like "domestic life" however, and seems to think I'm "trapping" her at the same time I feel like I'm going through hell. Soon after we move for the last time, she gets a night time job and begins having an affair with her supervisor.

    1. Merry Christmas and Hello
    2. 2 adults, 2 Kids, 2 bedroom apartment: 2 Close for Comfort
    3. Away From the Gangs, Part 1: The First House
    4. Away From the Gangs, Part 2: Bellflower and the Second House
    5. The Garage

    6. The Escape.

    Living with my misanthrope was like living moving through the various circles of Hell. The level of "good times" could probably be compared most with being stuck in purgatory. Throughout our relationship Pat would constantly ask me if I were "happy", and I always lied in the affirmative, yet possibly neither of us was ever happy during the three years we spent living together. Prisoners' dreams are always filled with escapes, as are the fever dreams of those condemned to a fiery afterlife. So to my memories of my life with Pat are filled with escapes. Laura escaped the prospect of living with an "uncle Daddy" when Pat announced I would be living with the family by leaving home. Pat needed to escape two of our three rented places because she was afraid of Charlie's friendships with the little brothers of gang members. When I got home from work each evening, I'd try to escape the presence of the quarreling kids fighting over the TV's remote control by burying myself in a book. Before I sold it on her insistence, my '66 Caddy was my escape from our drunken brawls when I would sleep on it's back seat, and it remained a symbol of my eventual escape back to Bob's "frat house" should I ever decide to leave the relationship. I'm positive that's why she wanted me to sell the car. When we were only in the first house in Long Beach, Pat escaped my bedroom by moving into her own. Our yearly trips to Florida were escapes, and of all the time we spent together, those trips really held the only "good times" my abused and damaged mind can remember.

    Pat dreamed of escaping the seemingly mundane existence of "normal life", which, from her perspective, was a living hell. She realized her dream when she met the guy who worked as her supervisor at the Policeman's Association. She would escape her relationship with me by spending first a few hours after work, then whole evenings, and subsequently nights away from our home. Finally, when I opened my love blinded eyes and realized what was going on, I took the wondrous opportunity afforded me utilizing her escape from my bed to set the stage for my own escape from the relationship altogether.

    The weekly "dates" we spent at the horse track disappeared quite soon after we moved into the house in Bellflower, and after Pat got the job at the Policeman's Association ringing doorbells for charitable contributions, we seemed to drift farther apart than ever before. After we'd lived in Bellflower for about half a year, I hardly saw her at all except for work. We took a trip to the L.A. County Fair one Sunday accompanied by her mother, who clearly noticed the distance between us, even though we were standing right next to each other. Soon after this outing, the outing of Pat's cuckoldry occured.

    When one lives a life of constant confrontation, and has spent the better part of almost half a decade attempting to stave off the instant anger and dramatic flareups that can ignite from any source, he becomes complacent and docile, like that overkicked dog, and really doesn't want to incite any unwanted bickering. The last confrontation between Pat and Mike, doomed lovers and mix matched housemates, wasn't as volatile as one would expect given our history together. In fact, the breakup was remarkably peaceful and agreeable. It was a somewhat inglorious, anticlimactic and somewhat silent end to a hideous and stormy time.

    I found a "love poem" Pat wrote to her supervisor, with whom she was having the affair. I wasn't looking for "proof" of anything. I was merely trying to find something in our own shared bedroom and saw the note in Pat's handwriting. When I read it, I was more surprised that she was expressing emotion toward somebody at all than whether or not it was directed at me. She always called me "my Michael" and I loved and embraced that term of endearment toward me. But except for the frequent sex in the early part of our relationship before she convinced me to move in with her, she rarely showed any closeness toward me. When she did, it was so infrequent that it was indeed special.

    Charlie had already hinted to me that he knew his mother was having an affair. I think in the final stages I was waiting for her to just lay it all on the line. We didn't lie to each other. That was one of the good things in our relationship, and I think my brutal honesty may in fact be one of the many reasons why Pat felt uncomfortable with me in the end. I really can't remember how I confronted her, but we agreed to have a much needed conversation about our future together which took place in the parking lot of one of her favorite parks with me sitting shotgun in her Blazer. Many lunchtimes, we had "escaped" from work together by going to the park, where we would always stay in the car. Pat would nap, and I'd sit in the seat beside her and relax as well. Sometimes I would walk around the park. We ended our relationship not at home, but in this park, sitting together, as if it were just a normal occurance.

    I asked her if she were having an affair, and she admitted it right away. I hadn't suspected it had been going on as long as it had. I was upset, but my mind's eye was already seeing my life "post Pat" so I didn't show any undue emotion. Pat was making a rather difficult decision and she knew it. I believe our conversation did include a theme of possible reconciliation, but the little angel on my shoulder and perhaps the little devil were both goading me to just end this NOW.

    "You know that I need to end this, Pat." I declared. "You're cheating on me. What possibly made you want to do this. You're always asking me if I'm happy? Does this mean you're not?"

    "I've been happy, my Michael" She was showing an emotion other than anger for the first time I could remember. It was as if she knew that she made a mistake, and was about to lose the only solid foundation on which she had ever stood, even though half of her mind felt as if the solid foundation was the floor of a prison. I kept thinking that we were enacting the plots of a lot of those country and western songs we loved to listen to. "But I need a change."

    "This is a change alright. You realize that I can't be with you now. And once I leave, that's it. We won't get back together, no matter what happens."

    "I know."

    "Well, then we're breaking up." I immediately turned to more mundane things, like the lease on the house, which wasn't up till May, six months hence. "We have a lease till May. I'll be rooming in the garage. I won't sleep in the same bed, especially knowing you've shared it with someone else. I'll look for a place, and I'll be out by my birthday. You can do what you want."

    I outlined what my routine was going to be for her for the next six months, since we'd still be sharing the house somewhat. One thing she had been doing, even during the affair, was driving me into and away from work, since we worked at the same place. I'd be going into work on the bus, and I'd be eating alone. She'd have to fend for herself and the kids. On Fridays, I'd pack a kit bag for three days, in an eerie turnabout to the time when I used to do that to bunk with her before I moved in with her, and go to Bob's. I was lucky that the CEO of our workplace lived near Bob, and he would drive me from work to Bob's on Friday evenings, and pick me up on Mondays.

    In silence Pat drove me away from the park for the last time. As I got out of the Blazer in the parking lot at work, I told her I'd be taking the bus home, and she could go straight to the Policeman's Association without worrying about me. She was still looking a bit sad, and I really felt bad for her, but as I turned away to approach the entrance to our workplace, I began to smile, and my walk suddenly began to turn into a little trot. I felt ecstatic by the time I boarded the bus to go home to my garage, where I'd had all my stuff since Pat and I had moved into the house in Bellflower.

    For the next six months I acted as if I were renting a room in somebody else's house. I rarely went into the main house at all. I did hang out with Charlie a lot. We still enjoyed each other's company. I treated him to some meals in Bellflower restaurants. I walked around Bellflower's main drag. I was going to leave town in a while, but I got to know it well. I took out a membership in the local video store and rented movies to watch while curled up on the daybed with a 13" television in front of me on a table. I let the kids keep watching the 32" TV in the living room. They'd be losing it in a few months anyway.

    I still worked at the same place as Pat. We only talked when he had to discuss bills or how our search for new housing was going. One Friday night in December while I was at Bob's, my friend Joel came home from a night out and wanted to go to the bathroom but the light was on as if Bob were in there. He banged on the door, and told Bob to hurry up. After a while, Joel sensed that something was wrong, and he opened the door to find Bob's lifeless body on the bathroom floor, where he'd died of a heart attack. He was only 47. I called Pat the next morning. After all, she knew Bob too, and I had lived with her for the past three years. We commiserated together.

    Joel couldn't live in the house he shared with Bob after Bob's relatives began coming out of the woodwork and he was told he had to move so they could fix up the house and sell it. The opportunity just couldn't be passed up. Joel and I looked for and found a nice three bedroom house to rent. I was all packed and out of the house in Bellflower by May 1st, right on schedule.

    Pat didn't leave the house in Bellflower for another month. She even called me a few times for advice. She didn't leave the place in good condition, and to save at least some of the deposit money, I went back a month after I moved out and cleaned the place up. I split the deposit with Pat. She owed me a couple thousand dollars on our shared credit card, but I assumed the debt myself, and made a clean break. I held no ill will toward my former lover.

    Within three months, she broke up with her new boyfriend. One time, she'd called me to tell me that something needed fixing at her shared apartment with the guy, but he wouldn't fix it. I dutifully went over and did what needed to be done. After she broke up, she was on her own, and moved into a very small apartment back in Bellflower. She'd sold or given away most of the furniture and Southwestern collectibles. She even gave away most of the stuffed bears I used to surprise her with as gifts. Basically, she'd given away the best part of her life.

    I bought my first car in almost half a decade, a small red Geo Metro convertible, just big enough for me. I took Pat for a ride in it. We still worked at the same place, but in different buildings, so I really didn't even have to see her if I didn't want to. I even ran some errands for her. After a few weeks, I visited her at her place, and we had sex. It wasn't lovemaking as much as a shared regard for our past together, which of course was still fresh in memory. We talked a lot, finally admitting some of the mistakes we both had made with each other. She asked me if there were a chance we'd get together again. I told her there wasn't. Although I still cared for her, she'd ruined any chance she might have had by cheating on me in the first place.

    Without warning, as was her wont, one day at work she announced she was quitting. She met a trucker in a country bar, and he was going to take her to live with him in Virginia. Two weeks later, he got tired of her and kicke her out, causing her to begin looking for a small apartment in a strange state.

    Pat eventually moved back to Southern California, and lives pretty far from me, but close to her mother. Some times, without warning, about once every two years, she'll show up at work and come into my office wanting to go to lunch. She still calls me "my Michael." She admits to me that she made the greatest mistake of her life when she decided to have an affair to relieve her perceived boredom. She always asks if we will ever get back together, knowing I remain single. The last time I saw her was right after I and Liz broke up, and I still said that although I enjoy knowing what's going on with her, I will never live with her nor be close to her again as anything but friends.

    I'm still friendly with Pat. I still love her immensely, but I will never again suffer the pain I went through during our relationship. Some couples are doomed from the start, and we qualified as one of the most doomed couples in history. The flames have long ago stopped lapping at my midsection. I sometimes wonder if the fact that I've never seriously attempted to live with a lover again is because my experience with Pat ruined me forever.

    Love is a bitch.

    Posted:  August 11, 2010 8:19 PM

    EDIT: 8/13/10 6:10p.m. pdt. I am updating the timestamp on this for the last time. I was really hoping for some more feedback. After all, this is the final chapter of my first finished "blognovel" and other chapters have gotten a lot of comments. I'm grateful to my readers who've responded, but hoped for some more feedback before I posted a new entry, since older entries never really seem to be read by anyone. (Except me, when I visit blogs.) Oh well. Enough whining.  MFN/ppf

Comments (63)

  • I surmise that your tumultuous relationship is very much a part of your reluctance to move in with an SO. On the other hand, it could just be you're not finding someone who can really make you WANT to move in with them. After all, if they were really all that good, I am sure you'd at the least struggle with the possibility. 

  • @RazielV - Dear Scott. I lived with Joel for 14 years. It was a "temporary arrangement" which we formulated after Bob died and I moved out after living with Pat. In 2000, I met Regina online and subsequently "moved her" to Long Beach to be near me, but I wanted to see if the relationship would work face to face (instead of as an LDR) but didn't want to take the step of cohabiting (remembering the still stinging barbs of my live in relationship with Pat). As it turned out, we didn't work out and Regina moved back to New Mexico. After almost a year with Liz,who lived at home, I discussed the possibility of us moving in together and she nixed the idea, which is good, because we broke up. So I've harbored the possibility in two subsequent relationships after Pat, but am glad I didn't take the step, because those relationships broke up too. I don't know what the future holds. It would be nice to at least meet somebody with whom I could share some of my life these days, which is pretty good. MFN/ppf

  • Michael, I've previously read posting about your life w/Pat. Right now, don't have time to get all through this one. I did want to thank you here for your visit and comments. Thanks for answering the question, which I believe is the correct answer.

    It sounds as though you're better off to stay away from a relationship that involves living with each other.

    ~~Blessings 'n Cheers

  • This one hits reeaally close to home, Mike. You write it so well, though. It's factual and not overly sentimental, but the emotions are there. Well done. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a knot in my chest that needs some loosening.

  • The spirit of Xanga must be female, it's surely as fickle as the proverbial woman.

  • You're right... your postings DO take a long time to read, honey. The short version is the last line, my friend. 

    And, I liked the long comment on my post. There's lots more to my story; but I have to know you a little better before I let you "behind the curtain" to see the protected postings where I do more of my more personal venting. 
    I've actually been around on Xanga since 2006, under my old user name--Shirlann. But, alas, my now ex-husband figured out how to hack that; and in a fit of "better safe than sorry," I shut the whole damn site down and started this one earlier this year.
    Love's a bitch.

  • @baldmike2004 - Oh, but I will add a few more personal details to add to the post you read on my site... my ex-husband moved out in late February; I figured out pretty quickly there was another woman (we'd been down this road before). Our divorce was final in early June; and he's been living with her since... I'm guessing... about March. And, he's told the kids he's living with her. They're 15 and almost 19. So, when I say "Love's a bitch," I know of what I speak.

  • I've read some of your story of your time with Pat before.  It just breaks my heart to read about how cruelly you were treated.  I know you are the first one to admit you were not perfect, but it just really screwed you over. 

    I hope you eventually recover from the hurt to find love again.

  • One of my sweet, yet sometimes crude, guy friends told me the following:

    If life was a slut, it'd be easy. But it's not. It's a bitch. 
    Enjoyed it as always, reading it in the subbox was a treat. Must have taken a lot to recount that whole ordeal. 
    good luck. :)  

  • Thank you for sharing this, Mike.  Life has its strange twists of fate, and peace and contentment in a relationship could be just around the corner for you.  And, I hope it is.  You deserve it.

  • I'm sorry that Pat treated you in such a way since you loved her so much.  It's odd that she should even consider cheating on you according to my Amishland country ways of thinking!!

    I agree,..she fave you a screwung over that you didn't deserve. 

    You changed her life and gave her the treasure of your love.  She gave you heartache in return!!  What an exchange.

    But I must tell you, is not always a "bitch."  Sometimes, does work out.  Mine has lasted thirty years for one man.  Perhaps, needs to be deaf to make love work and last a lidetime.

    I wish you happiness, online friend.


  • oh,my that doesn't sound like love to me Mike -you don't do that to someone you love

  • I hope she gave you the permission to chronicle a very personal relationship with her online. There are things better keep in vault under lock and key. Privacy is privacy.

  • I wanted to leave a comment but have to say, this was too hard a missive to read.  So sad really.
    :) , B

  • About the time I subbed to you, My husbands father was taken severely ill again.  It had all started in November of last year and hopefully he is home for good this you will see a lapse in my posts and understand that I was not on line to read then.  I just posted his condition and the would run out the door to the hospital.  That being said....I would like to know the names of your other blogs so that I can start reading.

    Wherever you are in your life at this point, I hope you are happy. ~ mom

  • Sorry for the heartbreak you had...I am so fortunate, I have been married to the same gal for 33 years...married young while I was serving in the Air Force...during our early years I was not very nice to my wife as my temper caused me to say and do things that were very hurtful to her.  I was able to get good counseling and was able to rebuild our marriage relationship by the grace and mercy of God.  I know I am a very fortunate and blessed individual and treasure my wife so much!

    Glad that you enjoyed the funnies especially the merry non-spell checker!


  • Mike: this comment is going to be a long one. Sorry bout that.

    As an English major, I wanted to go through and highlight and scribble things in the margins of this post, which means 2 things.

    1) This post grabbed my interest

    2)The internet has many annoying aspects

    Some of the story was difficult to piece together, since I don't have time to read the 5 entries before this (some sleeves really need to be sown onto a dress and I'm procrastinating). However, I plan to go back and read the others later.

    I like the way you address symbols (symbolism is sort of an interest of mine, as you may have noticed in my blog). I especially like the mention of the Caddy as a symbol of freedom. However, I hate that you had to lose such a beautiful classic car (though I prefer the 69 Impala). Is this a true story, by the way?

    I found it intriguing that i could relate to both you and Pat in certain ways. Like Pat, I'm also not happy with the idea that I might have a "normal life".

    I like the play between the need for solidity in life and the fear/pain of being imprisoned. This seems like a running theme throughout this entry (the caddy and selling it, that Pat saw you as both, your "imprisonment" in the relationship and the release you felt when it ended). Is this just a theme in this entry, or throughout the entire thing?

    I liked that even though I didn't know anything about Bob, other than his kindness to you and that his house was jokingly refered to as "frat house", I still gasped and thought "Oh no, Bob!" when he died. Maybe it's just my perception, but you make it easy to connect with your characters.

    Thanks for giving me something that was actually interesting to read to critique, instead of the dry stuff I usually have to read for my English classes in college :D

  • Hi Mike.

    It's funny how we all have similar or 'the same' stories...only difference is the CHOICES that we make. 

    I'm sure you will find someone...especially if it is really what you are looking for.

    Good luck!


  • Well, I said I would go back and read the rest, and I did (except for The Garage, because for some reason the link is not working). Your relationship seems like it was incredibly hectic and trying. I remember someone in the comments on one of the posts asked how you could have let yourself be sucked in like that (I think they actually said "destroyed", which I thought was much too harsh), but I think I can understand. The account of the relationship is both sad, fascinating, and awfully familiar in some ways.

  • So, I've just spent much of my afternoon reading about Pat =] Entertaining....

    Poor Pat, she wasn't going to be saved, was she? She gets bored a lot I bet. I am the type that gets bored often. I need change, all the time! Sometimes I feel like I even set up my own destruction simply so that it forces change in my life. I hate ordinary, I hate routine..... okay hate might be a strong word, but I don't feel comfortable with routine, I feel 'trapped' by it. I identify with Pat, but really only in this area.

    I commend you, Mike, for your efforts in relationship. For looking at the bright side and trying to make the best of it. You might have tried for longer than needed, but certainly, a lesson learned? probably a few lessons over those 3 years,

    I hope your relationships now return more, other than difficult lessons... sometimes I wonder if love is worth the hardship, but I would long desperately if I were alone, though even in marriage misunderstanding renders one lonely from time to time.

    anyhow, I read and wanted to respond with my thoughts, as you often do in my blogs.

    the stories of pat made me wonder even more though, about her, she intrigues me and so do you.

  • @xXrEMmUsXx - You are now officially my new best friend.

  • @baldmike2004 - i love discovering people, as I've said before... you intrigue me =] I don't feel like I will read you and be left with nothing in return. you know? an actual friendship where its just interesting to share ideas, stories and be known by someone =]

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