Had dinner with Oliver last Wednesday. He just came back from his two-and-half-week vacation in London and Switzerland. It was good seeing him again and, as usual, I got a lot of good advice. Then he said something that he meant to apply to my business, but he wasn't aware that it's actually applying to my personal life as well.
Oliver's story was about Cortez, who, upon reaching the shores of Mexico, burnt all his ships so there was no way back. They had to make it work. He essentially refused to fail. And somehow, that story brought to mind my relationship with Jon and how we're dragging this relationship on, five and a half years after the divorce.
Two days before that dinner, I made reservations to see Jon in Las Vegas. I wasn't planning to. I had too much to do, including my taxes, and told him so. Then he started calling me while he was drunk, calling me incessantly during one class, hanging up on me, being unintelligible. He was acting up, throwing a tantrum.
For almost two months, he kept talking about going to the Philippines for his vacation. He wanted me to arrange a chaperone for him. I told him it would not be safe. Then he brought it up again recently. I talked to my mom to make reservations at the resort that her cousin owns. She also said it would not be safe, and I told him she said so. He agreed not to go, but, "Will you come to see me?" Yank. He offered to pay for the air fare. And after I bought the tickets, he was nicer, he was normal again.
I confided to Jan about it. The sex was great the last time I went to see Jon, but I didn't like the way he got me to go on this trip. It was psychological blackmail! Jan asks, "Can you just be friends with him?" He adds that if I could get the sex from Jon but not be emotionally attached, it would be perfect. I explained that the emotions add oomph to the sex; I can't have sex without the emotion.
Then the day came -- March 12. I had SuperShuttle scheduled to pick me up at 4:30am so I could catch my 7:00am flight. At 2:00am, my cellphone rang. It was Jon. "Cancel your flight," he said. He found out that he had to work. I said I could still see him in the evenings; he had worked too the last time I was there. He said he would be too busy and too tired in the evenings. I asked why he tells me only two hours before I'm supposed to leave. He said he got home and was so tired that he fell asleep. I said I would never go to see him again. Maybe I didn't sound too convincing; I myself wasn't sure whether I could make good on that threat.
I called SuperShuttle and Northwest Airlines to cancel. Besides being slightly miffed about not getting sex when I was expecting it, I was actually relieved. There was something about the trip that bothered me, that stressed me out. Now, I had time to myself, no obligations. More time to do things that I had to do and that I wanted to do. The possibilities were overwhelming.
Jan suggested a couple of days up in Lutson, which was supposed to be nice. I also thought of going south to see Mount Rushmore, which I promised myself last summer. But I looked online and neither one felt right. I also looked for Zen centers and yoga retreats. Nothing felt right. So, I spent Saturday mostly sleeping. On Sunday, I went for the first time to the CorePower Yoga place three blocks from my apartment. I was mellowing out throughout the day and, by the end of the yoga class, I had totally mellowed out. Had dinner with Jan at Sawatdee Thai a few blocks from the yoga place and enjoyed another of the warm and comforting conversations I usually have with him, although he was tired from a long day of doing the last two of his schoolpapers and I was sleepy from the sudden burst of downward dogs and planks that I inflicted on my body that day.
Today started out as another nice mellow day. I installed the Wild Divine game that I bought last January and played with it. When I got tired, I read a book. Then Jon called.
First, he acted as though nothing happened. When I wouldn't warm up to him, he said to call him later when I wasn't mad. (To be honest, I was pissed, but not mad.) I called him back. He said I was still mad, and he said he was mad about it too. I was ready to forgive him. After all, he was a victim of the circumstances too.
I was chastising myself for being too soft-hearted, when he called again. This time, he was angry. He wanted me to take his apartment key to the county lawyer in Bloomington. I said I'd mail it. He said I had to bring it in person. I said I didn't have time. He said never mind. He mentioned he was leaving the country for good and the lawyer would take care of his things. There it was again. The same story he gave me before I made the flight reservations. Same psychological ploy. Yank. Me going to the attorney's office in person would mean I was still willing to obey him.
Then, unexpectedly and soundlessly, Clink.
Just like that, the chain broke. He had yanked my chain too many times. I don't feel the need to cater to his will anymore. Let him fly out to the Philippines or wherever he wants to go. Let him figure out how to survive there. He had survived in new places before; he'll survive there too. If he gets killed, it won't be on my conscience. He made the choice to go. Maybe it's just me that holds him back, that protects him. Maybe it's time to let him fly. By letting him fly, I'm freeing myself as well; I'm letting the chains fall. So he goes on his own adventure, and I go on my own.
Jan once remarked that it's difficult for me to let people go. I knew that. But I'm almost sure I'll see Jon again. I won't go to see him; he'll come to see me. And maybe we'll regain the respect for each other that we used to have, before we started playing these games. Maybe I'll get a glimpse of the man I fell in love with two decades ago, the one with self-respect and dignity and compassion. Well, that's what I hope, anyway.
So, ships are burning, chains are breaking. Hold your breath. Here we go.
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