Note: Since the emails related to this post were too long and a little too personal for me to post here, they’re in the post just prior to this. For the one or two readers who know both me and Marc, if you want to read them, the password is Marc’s first initial and last name, all lowercase.
For all our talk about not wanting to rehash the past few months, Marc and I pretty much did just that yesterday, and it was quite….the revelation for me. We’d been kind of but not really talking for a week or two (as in, he would occasionally text or email me and I would grudgingly respond because I still didn’t really want to talk to him). But I was tired of this pseudo-reconciliation, and I sent him an email telling him as much. Basically, I told him that I didn’t trust that we wouldn’t just start fighting again and I needed him to understand where this was (or, more importantly wasn’t) going, so that we’d both be on the same page. My email was probably about six or seven sentences. He sent me back a novel with a few confessions.
Basically, he’s been trying to manipulate me this whole time. I thought he was just being a stupid guy who couldn’t take a hint, but he knew exactly how things stood and decided to push the issue anyway. Instead of taking the hints I sent him as a sign to back off, he decided that I was tortured by the thought of having to choose between being his friend and being something more, so he would do whatever he could to push me away so that I wouldn’t have to choose. He claimed that he backed off every once in a while because he felt bad for making me feel bad, but when he heard that I was considering (as a very very very last resort) returning to LJB for the summer, he decided to push me even more to make sure that wouldn’t happen. For one thing, what an idiotic assessment. For another, how dare he!
I hate when people meddle in my life. I hate it even more when they try to do it behind my back. Nobody else gets to decide what I should be doing/feeling, that’s my choice and my choice alone. Later on he begged forgiveness for “fucking things up” on the grounds that his “intentions were benevolent, even if my methods were insane.” This little plea did not make me more sympathetic at all. I don’t care how “benevolent” he thinks his intentions are, the fact remains that he tried to manipulate me into doing what he wanted me to. That is so not okay on so many levels. Just because he’s older and thinks he knows better does not give him any right to try to control me.
He also threw in a lot of martyr-type phrases about everything he’s done for me (though he later claimed he never wanted anything in return, but why mention them unless you’re trying to make me feel guilty or something?) and how he’s just naturally protective (which I find insulting, because I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself and his “protective” actions come across as pitying and intrusive). Then he went on this whole thing about how even if I never spoke to him again, he’d be happy as long as I was living a good life, and tried to say that when I found a job/husband/house/other things that those would be his “wins,” which ticked me off because he’ll have had nothing at all to do with them.
With my reply, I basically went for the jugular…….It wasn’t as bitchy as it could have been, but I definitely hit him where I knew it would hurt. I basically told him that he should have stayed out of my life because I never asked/wanted him to get involved in things like asking for raises or fighting with the bosses, and just because I sometimes ranted to him (like all friends do to one another) didn’t mean that I wanted him involved and he should have known that. Then I let him have it about his “holier than thou decision to choose for me,” and then I told him that his only “win” was that he’d been right that we were carbon copies, and also right when he’d said that he could never get along with another one of himself.
So…..a few hours after I sent that, I reread it and felt a twinge of not-quite-guilt for being so bitchy, so I sent another email which was toned down, but still very clear about why I was pissed and how wrong he’d been. I wasn’t expecting/wasn’t sure I even wanted a reply, but he did send one, finally admitting that he’d really “fucked up (understatement of the century) and basically trying to justify his actions and beg for forgiveness. He ended by asking if we could just “get past this madness,” which would be convenient for him considering that his little confession had made this whole situation go from being (by my calculations) 40% my fault 60% his fault, to about 5% my fault and 95% his.
I told him I didn’t know, but maybe we could try. But that if he ever tried something like this again, I’d never forgive him.
The strange thing is, I’m not as mad as I should be. I don’t know if that’s because I’m still feeling emotionally disengaged, or because everything finally makes sense now. I definitely won’t forget what he’s done and it’ll be a long time before I trust him again (if I ever do), but I guess I don’t see the point in holding a grudge. I never have, save for very rare occasions. Probably because it takes more effort than it’s worth. But we’ll see how long this peace lasts…..