I had another dream with Josephine, and this time it was clearly my idealized Josephine. The dream was a re-enactment of one of our typical mornings when I used to be up before her and then wake her up later. Those were always endearing times as they happened, but my feeling now about our entire relationship is that there was always tension and I was always self-conscious of my actions and trying not to set her off, basically walking on eggshells all the time. In the dream, there was none of that, it was just that pure feeling of endearment.
God, how I loved that woman. Why do I not think of her as one of the loves of my life? No, I don't, because she wasn't. The love of my life was Amina. Shiho also may have been a love of my life. But not Josephine. I'm not sure why, I'm sure it has nothing to do with anything that any of them were or are. Amina was a total creation, when I really dig down and look at the facts, Amina was nothing special. I have no idea why she holds such a special place in my heart. My only conclusion is that it has nothing to do with the person Amina, but my conception of her. Same with Shiho. But putting it that way, why not Josephine? I have retained more delightful, endearing memories of Josephine than Shiho and Amina combined.
Showing posts with label girlfriends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label girlfriends. Show all posts
Monday, July 03, 2000
Friday, April 30, 1999
1557 Noe St., San Francisco
April 28-30, 1999
This journal is almost over, I started it on April 30, 1989 and I think ten years is a nice neat time period for it to cover. What comes next I have no idea. The decade of my 20's behind me, starting my 30's, still not wanting to live much longer than that, if that at all.
Behind me are Oberlin, Amina, Josephine, Shiho, Japan, law school, international travel, hatred of parents, and first stage spiritual growth. My whole past life is behind me. It feels like the things that were fleeting and impermanent have come and gone, and now whatever comes has to have some meaning, some tangibility and permanence. Do my 30's need to be more concrete? It feels that way, but really it never works out that way, but if things are exactly like they were in my 20's, what’s the point?
I had some closure with Amina. Oberlin has an “on-line community” for alumni now and once you register, you can look people up and find out their latest information, and I found out that she’s living in Chicago now and is still married to Waldo. Just seeing that concrete information settled some of whatever dust is still lingering. And there isn’t much, it’s just that the memory of her and loving her so dearly has become so much a part of me. As I’ve noted before, it has nothing to do with who she is or where she is now.
I remember tender moments of our friendship. At the end of the semester that we met, we were walking back to my apartment from Third World House where we had said goodbye to Jenny for the Summer. It was a warm May night and Amina slipped her arm in mine. At the airport the next day I hugged her at the gate and felt that I couldn’t let go of her, and I never did. That entire semester getting to know her was golden. The first time I saw her I remember thinking that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Love at first sight in the lobby of Third World House, fluorescent lighting, Amina in profile as she walked by.
At the beginning of our acquaintance, in fact just a few days after I had engineered meeting her at Third World House dining hall, I remember her calling from behind as I was walking to Third World House after a class for lunch. I was so happy to see her, so happy that she had called out, so happy that she remembered me, so happy that she was taking the same class I was coming from, and so happy that we were going to lunch together.
I remember at the end of that semester we were studying for the final for that class in her dorm room. It was getting later and later and our concentration on the subject matter was waning. When she was falling asleep I said that I should probably get going, she said, “no.” It was so sweet, and we fell asleep where we were and when I woke up she had already left for class.
She went back to Pakistan that Summer and she did her Fall semester in Dublin. I borrowed Nobuko’s car to pick her up from the Amtrak station in Elyria when she returned for Winter Term in January, I remember how cold it was and the anticipation of seeing Amina again. I remember my heart skipping beats when she got off the train.
We had harder times that Spring semester because of tensions between us. I moved to an off-campus apartment at the end of Winter Term, I remember Amina coming over to help me clean it, it was her that made it feel like home. I remember her room in Old Barrows that she shared with Sunita and someone else. I remember that she had a place in Mudd Library, second floor I think, where she always went to study, where I would always look to find her, where she would be if she wanted me to find her.
The only extant photograph I have of Amina is from Mayfair, when the Can Consortium played in front of Finney Chapel. She and a bunch of friends came out to see the gig. I remember that day through that photograph.
After I graduated I was going to Japan and I stopped to see her in Chicago on my way there. What I remember is mostly from photographs that I remember. I don’t have them anymore, but I remember the images. And through them I remember some of the moments. The flour fight, irreverently lying on a kitchen counter, the red car with a phone that belonged to the family she was staying with – the woman of the house being Amina’s mother’s schoolmate way back when.
After I returned to the US, I drove out to Oberlin to visit her and then we went to Chicago together to visit Pasha. I remember a night that we were sleeping on Pasha’s floor, our heads were close, our hands touched. I remember back at Oberlin, we were staying at Madoka’s and Vikki’s house until the dorms opened, that’s when and where it happened. What I remember is waking up kissing her, and it crossed my mind that it was impossible and at any moment she was going to wake up and that would be the end of that. But she was awake and she was kissing me back.
Those weeks of Winter Term were the height of our romance and it was all downhill from there. Looking back it ended just as soon as it began. It was a long distance relationship through the semester and I was struggling with my home relationship and figuring out what I was supposed to do next. We spent the summer together and we had a rough time. It was enough for me to be with the woman I loved, but it wasn’t enough for her. After the summer I drove out to California alone, and we tried to revive our long distance relationship, but by year’s end it was over.
But if I were able to re-live one part or aspect of any relationship, it wouldn’t be any part of the relationship with Amina. It would be during the semester that Amina was away in Dublin when I went out briefly with Hiromi. I was forcing myself to accept that Amina had a boyfriend and we would only remain friends. So I certainly wasn’t disappointed when I learned that Hiromi was moving into Third World House. I remember having seen Hiromi on campus the semester before and being smitten by her.
I used Japanese lessons as a subtext to meet and get to know her better. I remember early attempts at lessons in my room. We just started hanging out together more and more, I think. I remember meeting her and hanging out with her in the language lab in King where she worked. I remember her coming to my room for coffee. Often. I remember an incredible sweetness and tenderness between us. I don’t remember when we first started going out, I do remember that she slept over but we never had sex. I remember her stopping by in my room late one night after I had gotten back from a Can gig that was down near Columbus. I had laundry to do and she ate an avocado or something. I remember she stopped by my room often when she was leaving or returning to the dorm because I kept my door open almost all the time that semester.
I remember the signs of the demise of our relationship. I remember the lack of communication, empathy, or connection. I remember one time we were making out in my room and my black Guild 12-string got knocked over and broke at the headstock. I adored her, but we just weren’t right for each other. We distanced from each other and we didn’t communicate what was happening, so we didn’t work it out.
Shiho was another girlfriend whose memories have left their mark. It’s been almost three years since our last contact. She’s probably married now and may have kids. But the memories I have are not from the past decade, but from our high school years together. She should have been my high school sweetheart, I was just too stupid to realize what a great person and woman she was.
All through high school I denied that she had feelings for me. Everyone else saw it, some tried to tell me. But there were things that bugged me about her and so I made sure we just stayed friends. I was carrying a torch for someone else. That’s right. I didn’t love Shiho in high school. It’s not that I was missing something amazing that was right before my eyes. What was right before my eyes I didn’t love and I had specific reasons for not wanting to go out with her.
But it’s not that I didn’t love her. Why did we start going out two weeks before she left for Japan? I don’t remember what my feelings were, what we were doing. I don’t remember our first kiss, but I think it came as a big, uncomfortable surprise to me, quickly followed by the grief and sadness realizing she was about to leave. Did we make the most of those last two weeks? I don’t remember. It was the beginning of a very dark period in my life. I still have the cassette recorded letters that she sent me after she returned to Japan. I like to think that she still has the ones I sent her.
When I saw her next after I graduated from Oberlin, that’s when the seeds for falling in love with her were planted. After going through so many changes, seeing her in the flesh, as a relic from before those changes, being amazed that she was sitting before me and we had these old, real memories, made her real to me; made me realize that she was a special person to me. But Amina prevented anything from being maintained.
Only the next time I saw her, after Amina was out of the picture, during law school, that my love for completely blew wide open. And it didn’t last long. I felt betrayed. I felt that she betrayed me. I shouldn’t wonder – maybe Shiho is the story of my life.
<fin>
This journal is almost over, I started it on April 30, 1989 and I think ten years is a nice neat time period for it to cover. What comes next I have no idea. The decade of my 20's behind me, starting my 30's, still not wanting to live much longer than that, if that at all.
Behind me are Oberlin, Amina, Josephine, Shiho, Japan, law school, international travel, hatred of parents, and first stage spiritual growth. My whole past life is behind me. It feels like the things that were fleeting and impermanent have come and gone, and now whatever comes has to have some meaning, some tangibility and permanence. Do my 30's need to be more concrete? It feels that way, but really it never works out that way, but if things are exactly like they were in my 20's, what’s the point?
I had some closure with Amina. Oberlin has an “on-line community” for alumni now and once you register, you can look people up and find out their latest information, and I found out that she’s living in Chicago now and is still married to Waldo. Just seeing that concrete information settled some of whatever dust is still lingering. And there isn’t much, it’s just that the memory of her and loving her so dearly has become so much a part of me. As I’ve noted before, it has nothing to do with who she is or where she is now.
I remember tender moments of our friendship. At the end of the semester that we met, we were walking back to my apartment from Third World House where we had said goodbye to Jenny for the Summer. It was a warm May night and Amina slipped her arm in mine. At the airport the next day I hugged her at the gate and felt that I couldn’t let go of her, and I never did. That entire semester getting to know her was golden. The first time I saw her I remember thinking that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Love at first sight in the lobby of Third World House, fluorescent lighting, Amina in profile as she walked by.
At the beginning of our acquaintance, in fact just a few days after I had engineered meeting her at Third World House dining hall, I remember her calling from behind as I was walking to Third World House after a class for lunch. I was so happy to see her, so happy that she had called out, so happy that she remembered me, so happy that she was taking the same class I was coming from, and so happy that we were going to lunch together.
I remember at the end of that semester we were studying for the final for that class in her dorm room. It was getting later and later and our concentration on the subject matter was waning. When she was falling asleep I said that I should probably get going, she said, “no.” It was so sweet, and we fell asleep where we were and when I woke up she had already left for class.
She went back to Pakistan that Summer and she did her Fall semester in Dublin. I borrowed Nobuko’s car to pick her up from the Amtrak station in Elyria when she returned for Winter Term in January, I remember how cold it was and the anticipation of seeing Amina again. I remember my heart skipping beats when she got off the train.
We had harder times that Spring semester because of tensions between us. I moved to an off-campus apartment at the end of Winter Term, I remember Amina coming over to help me clean it, it was her that made it feel like home. I remember her room in Old Barrows that she shared with Sunita and someone else. I remember that she had a place in Mudd Library, second floor I think, where she always went to study, where I would always look to find her, where she would be if she wanted me to find her.
The only extant photograph I have of Amina is from Mayfair, when the Can Consortium played in front of Finney Chapel. She and a bunch of friends came out to see the gig. I remember that day through that photograph.
After I graduated I was going to Japan and I stopped to see her in Chicago on my way there. What I remember is mostly from photographs that I remember. I don’t have them anymore, but I remember the images. And through them I remember some of the moments. The flour fight, irreverently lying on a kitchen counter, the red car with a phone that belonged to the family she was staying with – the woman of the house being Amina’s mother’s schoolmate way back when.
After I returned to the US, I drove out to Oberlin to visit her and then we went to Chicago together to visit Pasha. I remember a night that we were sleeping on Pasha’s floor, our heads were close, our hands touched. I remember back at Oberlin, we were staying at Madoka’s and Vikki’s house until the dorms opened, that’s when and where it happened. What I remember is waking up kissing her, and it crossed my mind that it was impossible and at any moment she was going to wake up and that would be the end of that. But she was awake and she was kissing me back.
Those weeks of Winter Term were the height of our romance and it was all downhill from there. Looking back it ended just as soon as it began. It was a long distance relationship through the semester and I was struggling with my home relationship and figuring out what I was supposed to do next. We spent the summer together and we had a rough time. It was enough for me to be with the woman I loved, but it wasn’t enough for her. After the summer I drove out to California alone, and we tried to revive our long distance relationship, but by year’s end it was over.
But if I were able to re-live one part or aspect of any relationship, it wouldn’t be any part of the relationship with Amina. It would be during the semester that Amina was away in Dublin when I went out briefly with Hiromi. I was forcing myself to accept that Amina had a boyfriend and we would only remain friends. So I certainly wasn’t disappointed when I learned that Hiromi was moving into Third World House. I remember having seen Hiromi on campus the semester before and being smitten by her.
I used Japanese lessons as a subtext to meet and get to know her better. I remember early attempts at lessons in my room. We just started hanging out together more and more, I think. I remember meeting her and hanging out with her in the language lab in King where she worked. I remember her coming to my room for coffee. Often. I remember an incredible sweetness and tenderness between us. I don’t remember when we first started going out, I do remember that she slept over but we never had sex. I remember her stopping by in my room late one night after I had gotten back from a Can gig that was down near Columbus. I had laundry to do and she ate an avocado or something. I remember she stopped by my room often when she was leaving or returning to the dorm because I kept my door open almost all the time that semester.
I remember the signs of the demise of our relationship. I remember the lack of communication, empathy, or connection. I remember one time we were making out in my room and my black Guild 12-string got knocked over and broke at the headstock. I adored her, but we just weren’t right for each other. We distanced from each other and we didn’t communicate what was happening, so we didn’t work it out.
Shiho was another girlfriend whose memories have left their mark. It’s been almost three years since our last contact. She’s probably married now and may have kids. But the memories I have are not from the past decade, but from our high school years together. She should have been my high school sweetheart, I was just too stupid to realize what a great person and woman she was.
All through high school I denied that she had feelings for me. Everyone else saw it, some tried to tell me. But there were things that bugged me about her and so I made sure we just stayed friends. I was carrying a torch for someone else. That’s right. I didn’t love Shiho in high school. It’s not that I was missing something amazing that was right before my eyes. What was right before my eyes I didn’t love and I had specific reasons for not wanting to go out with her.
But it’s not that I didn’t love her. Why did we start going out two weeks before she left for Japan? I don’t remember what my feelings were, what we were doing. I don’t remember our first kiss, but I think it came as a big, uncomfortable surprise to me, quickly followed by the grief and sadness realizing she was about to leave. Did we make the most of those last two weeks? I don’t remember. It was the beginning of a very dark period in my life. I still have the cassette recorded letters that she sent me after she returned to Japan. I like to think that she still has the ones I sent her.
When I saw her next after I graduated from Oberlin, that’s when the seeds for falling in love with her were planted. After going through so many changes, seeing her in the flesh, as a relic from before those changes, being amazed that she was sitting before me and we had these old, real memories, made her real to me; made me realize that she was a special person to me. But Amina prevented anything from being maintained.
Only the next time I saw her, after Amina was out of the picture, during law school, that my love for completely blew wide open. And it didn’t last long. I felt betrayed. I felt that she betrayed me. I shouldn’t wonder – maybe Shiho is the story of my life.
<
Wednesday, May 27, 1998
198 Shakespeare St., San Francisco
May 1998
I'm dealing with a brimful of resentment that I'd been suppressing. I certainly will not be looking back at this relationship fondly. Right next to any memories that may have reminded me of her in a light of fondness...
Her screaming "I hate you" out of the window as I left the house, walking down the hill, away from her venom.
The sound of her throwing things around her room, calling me "asshole" through the wall.
The sound of her destroying the puzzle of Klimt's “The Kiss” that I got for her and meant so much to me because I thought it meant something to her.
Her calling me on the phone from the next room just to yell, "I know everything!", insipidly implying that I'd been hiding something from her all the while.
I have a lot of resentment now and I wish I could burn her memory out of my mind. Ironically, she was so close to being the one for me. If there wasn't violence...I don't know. I mentioned that it was just a catalyst and our problems ran much deeper. I don't know if those problems would have been solved even without the violence.
Maybe she was right. I wasn't happy with the relationship even though I thought it was. Maybe I was in denial and she could sense it. I don't know. Maybe I wasn't happy with the relationship and was in denial, but I don't know if she really sensed it. It's just as much a possibility that she's just extremely, extremely insecure and paranoid and conjured up all these scenarios to be jealous about because of her fear.
And she's moving out. She couldn't do anything worse to hammer the final nail into the coffin of our relationship. It's abandonment, it's running away, it's counter to anything that could possibly be considered communication. So forget it. She's out. She's dead to me. I did love her. I still do, but I would never go back to her.
Who would I go back to? Not Amina, probably not Shiho. What were their fatal flaws? Amina just doesn't exist anymore. The magnitude of her betrayal rescinded her existence to me. What I loved and still love does not exist anymore in regard to her. I'm sure she's changed beyond my recognition and any pangs are only reminiscences from before. Shiho's fatal flaw is spinelessness. Not being able to break up even when I knew that's what she wanted. She lost my respect.
Luyen just got annoying after a while. Hiromi suffered because of me, she didn't do anything wrong. We didn't communicate and there were serious chemistry problems, but my apologies to her would fill an ocean. I did her wrong, even if I eventually meant nothing to her. Maybe that’s why I meant nothing to her. I was the spineless one. And ironically, it was the semester with her I would relive if I could relive any part of a past relationship. Coffee. Third World House. Sakuko and I just didn’t work at that time. It may have worked if it happened now. I had too many problems back then.
And I wouldn’t go back to Josephine because there is this list of fatal flaws that indicate she is very simply the wrong person for me, which counters any good points of our relationship.
I'm dealing with a brimful of resentment that I'd been suppressing. I certainly will not be looking back at this relationship fondly. Right next to any memories that may have reminded me of her in a light of fondness...
Her screaming "I hate you" out of the window as I left the house, walking down the hill, away from her venom.
The sound of her throwing things around her room, calling me "asshole" through the wall.
The sound of her destroying the puzzle of Klimt's “The Kiss” that I got for her and meant so much to me because I thought it meant something to her.
Her calling me on the phone from the next room just to yell, "I know everything!", insipidly implying that I'd been hiding something from her all the while.
I have a lot of resentment now and I wish I could burn her memory out of my mind. Ironically, she was so close to being the one for me. If there wasn't violence...I don't know. I mentioned that it was just a catalyst and our problems ran much deeper. I don't know if those problems would have been solved even without the violence.
Maybe she was right. I wasn't happy with the relationship even though I thought it was. Maybe I was in denial and she could sense it. I don't know. Maybe I wasn't happy with the relationship and was in denial, but I don't know if she really sensed it. It's just as much a possibility that she's just extremely, extremely insecure and paranoid and conjured up all these scenarios to be jealous about because of her fear.
And she's moving out. She couldn't do anything worse to hammer the final nail into the coffin of our relationship. It's abandonment, it's running away, it's counter to anything that could possibly be considered communication. So forget it. She's out. She's dead to me. I did love her. I still do, but I would never go back to her.
Who would I go back to? Not Amina, probably not Shiho. What were their fatal flaws? Amina just doesn't exist anymore. The magnitude of her betrayal rescinded her existence to me. What I loved and still love does not exist anymore in regard to her. I'm sure she's changed beyond my recognition and any pangs are only reminiscences from before. Shiho's fatal flaw is spinelessness. Not being able to break up even when I knew that's what she wanted. She lost my respect.
Luyen just got annoying after a while. Hiromi suffered because of me, she didn't do anything wrong. We didn't communicate and there were serious chemistry problems, but my apologies to her would fill an ocean. I did her wrong, even if I eventually meant nothing to her. Maybe that’s why I meant nothing to her. I was the spineless one. And ironically, it was the semester with her I would relive if I could relive any part of a past relationship. Coffee. Third World House. Sakuko and I just didn’t work at that time. It may have worked if it happened now. I had too many problems back then.
And I wouldn’t go back to Josephine because there is this list of fatal flaws that indicate she is very simply the wrong person for me, which counters any good points of our relationship.
Wednesday, December 31, 1997
Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey
I've been avoiding writing about the day to day events between Josephine and me because nothing has been stable in our relationship. My feelings on one day would be totally different on another day. In principle, I suppose, I should just put down what happens at any given time at the time it happens, because those are the facts of that particular time, but everyone knows that's not the way history works, whether it's world history, national history, or personal history.
If I write something one day that I completely do not feel another day, I do not want it written down. If a feeling or observation isn't permanent, I wouldn't want to make it permanent by recording it in my personal history. History does not become history just because it happens. It only becomes history when it is reconciled and comes to terms with itself. That's why entries here have been so sparse the past few months.
But here at year's end, I feel should assess and recap what this past semester has been with Josephine. Especially since a phase of our relationship ended on December 15. Actually, the relationship came to an end, only to be revived...well, it's going to be revived. It is intended to be revived when I go back to San Francisco?
I have very little good to say about this relationship. Overall, it's been a terrible relationship, and I don't know why I'm sticking with it; giving it another chance. There have been so many chances where all I had to do was let her walk away. Instead, I've always pulled her back or let her come back. This last time it would have been so easy; she had already found another place and paid the first months rent. I would have been here in New Jersey when she moved out. I wouldn't even have to deal with the separation. So easy.
I could have returned to San Francisco a free man; free from the fear, free from the pressure; free to be myself and do what I want to do. Sure it would have been hard, sure it would have been sad, but I would have gotten over it like I've done so many times before.
Instead, after a nice day together in New York as friends, I drove her to the family’s house with whom she was staying, and at the last moment she broke down and said she didn't want to move out. I felt for her so strongly and responded telling her not to then. And I'm glad about it. It was a relief. There must be something in the relationship that is worth it. But once I start thinking about it, I realize that I'm walking right back into a violent relationship, right back into the cycle of violence.
We've gone through this before, I have no reason to believe that things will be different or that she is going to change. I told her about the cycle of violence and she sees it and agrees that we have to get out of it. I think in her mind, maybe she is thinking that if we get back together, she won't be violent anymore and we are out of the cycle. For me, the fact that I'm going back into the relationship is re-affirming the cycle. We're just fulfilling the kiss and make-up phase of the cycle. The fact remains that the longest period of time we went without violence was 17 days. I do not believe anything is really going to change. There is going to be violence again in the month of January.
We had our rough times in Thailand, but they never ended in violence. It was just walk away until we made up. Then when we got back to San Francisco, we still had rough times, and it was the same deal, walk away until one of us made a move to make up. Then we moved in with each other and that's when the violence started.
It was hard from the very start. We had problems the day she moved in. After that, the cycle started, the suspicions, the hurt feelings, the lashing out, the accusations. None of it well-founded, none of it based on fact, none of it overshadowed by something to make the relationship worth my while.
Eventually the door slamming, the nasty words, the meanness, the throwing things, breaking things. Finally there was an actual physical assault, which isn't as bad as it sounds. I don't care so much about being hit, and female on male personal physical violence is not as serious a problem as the reverse. What it expressed, though, was not wasted or forgotten, nor the expression behind the sheer rage of her wrecking things in her room. All of it was me being thrown against the wall, shattering, scattering, breaking. The occasion of her screaming "I hate you" out her window at me for all the world to hear is a sound that still echoes in my ears. It was a public proclamation.
It's been an awful relationship. I remember all the fights and can't believe that we made up and continued with it so many times. The fights interspersed with good times that floated on a sea of fear, trying not to hurt her feelings, trying to keep her happy, worrying about the next time she reached the bottom of her manic depression's sine wave.
I had almost no private time to myself because I was afraid of leaving her alone, afraid of what was emotionally developing that I wasn't aware of, wasn't prepared for. Occasionally, she had her moments of clarity and would be aware of the problems, and she would encourage me to do what I wanted to do and not worry about her, but always, her actions would belie her words and I couldn't trust any of her words.
******************************
It occurs to me only now that this whole story should be completely in the past tense. There should be no future. Josephine should just be another number in a string of girlfriends.
Only the relationship with Joy was worse. Liz, too, but I don’t count it because that period of my life is so surreal; a most tumultuous period of my life. The relationship with Liz wasn't bad because it was a bad relationship. It was bad because I was really, really screwed up. That relationship just isn't subject to comparison because it was doomed to fail. In the end, we're still friends and there is no hint that we used to go out.
Joy was just a painfully bland-nothing-boring-relationship. Everything got set into a mold which got repeated ad nauseam. Everything was predictable and boring and for months the only reason why I didn't break up with her was because I didn't feel like going through with a breakup. In the end it was rather harmless. A discussion for several hours in Golden Gate Park, a few tears shed, dropped her off at a BART station. Even with the violence, Josephine was better. Josephine is a ball of fun at her best and a great companion.
When things were good with Josephine, they were great, but great times don't overshadow violence. It's sick to put up with violence just because other times are good. Josephine has to learn that there are things that you just don't do and just don't say to the one you love. She has to take responsibility for what she throws out into the world around her.
Amina and Shiho are still the undeniable best relationships I had, even though they both ended in betrayal. Disgust and betrayal with Amina. A complete loss of respect for Shiho. But while they were happening, they were great and the feeling from those relationships is what I still strive for.
In the middle are Sakuko, Hiromi, and Luyen. Sakuko and I broke up because of my personal problems. If we started going out now, I think I could fulfill my part to make it work. She really loved me and wanted things to work and tried to make things work. If Josephine put that sort of effort into our relationship, it would be a breeze.
The relationship with Hiromi was the sweetest out of the three, but also the most detached. I never felt we really connected through the hours and hours of intimacy we had in the semester we were together. When the relationship started slipping away, there was nothing for me to hold onto to keep it from slipping away, even if I wanted to.
I don't even have any recollection of how it broke off. It just suddenly wasn't there anymore. We had problems and they just didn't get addressed. We didn't try to work it out. The semester ended and we weren't in each others' plans. We both ended up staying in Oberlin, but not together. We were apart and that set the stage for our walking our separate ways. I really don't remember.
The relationship with Luyen was as tortured as this with Josephine. She was working her way through emotional and mental problems and we argued and fought a lot, but a lot of it was positive fighting and there was no violence. By "positive", I don't mean that any of the fighting was good, but there was a point to it all. Our fights were substantive and we were trying to work things out, personally and together. It wasn't self-indulgent or petty fighting. But I'm not sure I'm remembering that quite right, either.
That's funny. There is no comparison between Josephine and either Shiho or Amina, but there is some element in each Hiromi, Luyen, and Sakuko in this relationship with Josephine. And I left Hiromi, Luyen, and Sakuko. I didn't leave Amina or Shiho.
So the order I put the relationships in is: Amina, Shiho, Sakuko, Luyen, Hiromi, Josephine, Liz, Joy. It's a steep drop between Shiho and Sakuko. I had a lot in common with both Amina and Shiho, although I'm not sure they'd say the same thing about me. They both were into the music they liked and there was plenty of overlap with my musical tastes.
I have little recollection of what music was shared with the others. With Josephine, Liz, and Joy, music was not even an important part of their lives by my standards. Amina and Shiho appreciated the music they listened to, and that was really important to me. It's not the music itself, but rather their attitude towards the music that moved them. That's the connection.
With Sakuko, Luyen, and Hiromi, it's odd because they were all musicians. Sakuko and Luyen played piano and Hiromi sang. And Hiromi appreciated her music. The connection just wasn't there.
******************************
So why am I getting back with Josephine? Why do I love her enough to give her yet another chance, even though I know that this relationship will fail.
Part of it may be because of my own maturity that has come with age. When things don't work, you don't just walk away from it. If you commit to someone, you try to work it out. If someone asks for forgiveness, you give it. Is there hope that we will get out of the cycle of violence? Yes, there is hope that eventually we will get out. Whether it's soon enough is another question.
She's also cute as hell. And her laugh and her smile are to die for. Her happiness is infectious and fills the room.
And just maybe she needs me. She's trying. I'm not about to abandon her. That certainly puts me at risk. She can walk away, and when she does I'll let her go no problem. But I'll keep coming back to her despite the abuse and violence.
I guess I'll just have to wait and see when I return to San Francisco. I have no idea how I'll feel once I'm there; once I see her. It won't be easy. The memory of her expressions of hatred stands firmly next to the memory of the expressions of her love.
If I write something one day that I completely do not feel another day, I do not want it written down. If a feeling or observation isn't permanent, I wouldn't want to make it permanent by recording it in my personal history. History does not become history just because it happens. It only becomes history when it is reconciled and comes to terms with itself. That's why entries here have been so sparse the past few months.
But here at year's end, I feel should assess and recap what this past semester has been with Josephine. Especially since a phase of our relationship ended on December 15. Actually, the relationship came to an end, only to be revived...well, it's going to be revived. It is intended to be revived when I go back to San Francisco?
I have very little good to say about this relationship. Overall, it's been a terrible relationship, and I don't know why I'm sticking with it; giving it another chance. There have been so many chances where all I had to do was let her walk away. Instead, I've always pulled her back or let her come back. This last time it would have been so easy; she had already found another place and paid the first months rent. I would have been here in New Jersey when she moved out. I wouldn't even have to deal with the separation. So easy.
I could have returned to San Francisco a free man; free from the fear, free from the pressure; free to be myself and do what I want to do. Sure it would have been hard, sure it would have been sad, but I would have gotten over it like I've done so many times before.
Instead, after a nice day together in New York as friends, I drove her to the family’s house with whom she was staying, and at the last moment she broke down and said she didn't want to move out. I felt for her so strongly and responded telling her not to then. And I'm glad about it. It was a relief. There must be something in the relationship that is worth it. But once I start thinking about it, I realize that I'm walking right back into a violent relationship, right back into the cycle of violence.
We've gone through this before, I have no reason to believe that things will be different or that she is going to change. I told her about the cycle of violence and she sees it and agrees that we have to get out of it. I think in her mind, maybe she is thinking that if we get back together, she won't be violent anymore and we are out of the cycle. For me, the fact that I'm going back into the relationship is re-affirming the cycle. We're just fulfilling the kiss and make-up phase of the cycle. The fact remains that the longest period of time we went without violence was 17 days. I do not believe anything is really going to change. There is going to be violence again in the month of January.
We had our rough times in Thailand, but they never ended in violence. It was just walk away until we made up. Then when we got back to San Francisco, we still had rough times, and it was the same deal, walk away until one of us made a move to make up. Then we moved in with each other and that's when the violence started.
It was hard from the very start. We had problems the day she moved in. After that, the cycle started, the suspicions, the hurt feelings, the lashing out, the accusations. None of it well-founded, none of it based on fact, none of it overshadowed by something to make the relationship worth my while.
Eventually the door slamming, the nasty words, the meanness, the throwing things, breaking things. Finally there was an actual physical assault, which isn't as bad as it sounds. I don't care so much about being hit, and female on male personal physical violence is not as serious a problem as the reverse. What it expressed, though, was not wasted or forgotten, nor the expression behind the sheer rage of her wrecking things in her room. All of it was me being thrown against the wall, shattering, scattering, breaking. The occasion of her screaming "I hate you" out her window at me for all the world to hear is a sound that still echoes in my ears. It was a public proclamation.
It's been an awful relationship. I remember all the fights and can't believe that we made up and continued with it so many times. The fights interspersed with good times that floated on a sea of fear, trying not to hurt her feelings, trying to keep her happy, worrying about the next time she reached the bottom of her manic depression's sine wave.
I had almost no private time to myself because I was afraid of leaving her alone, afraid of what was emotionally developing that I wasn't aware of, wasn't prepared for. Occasionally, she had her moments of clarity and would be aware of the problems, and she would encourage me to do what I wanted to do and not worry about her, but always, her actions would belie her words and I couldn't trust any of her words.
******************************
It occurs to me only now that this whole story should be completely in the past tense. There should be no future. Josephine should just be another number in a string of girlfriends.
Only the relationship with Joy was worse. Liz, too, but I don’t count it because that period of my life is so surreal; a most tumultuous period of my life. The relationship with Liz wasn't bad because it was a bad relationship. It was bad because I was really, really screwed up. That relationship just isn't subject to comparison because it was doomed to fail. In the end, we're still friends and there is no hint that we used to go out.
Joy was just a painfully bland-nothing-boring-relationship. Everything got set into a mold which got repeated ad nauseam. Everything was predictable and boring and for months the only reason why I didn't break up with her was because I didn't feel like going through with a breakup. In the end it was rather harmless. A discussion for several hours in Golden Gate Park, a few tears shed, dropped her off at a BART station. Even with the violence, Josephine was better. Josephine is a ball of fun at her best and a great companion.
When things were good with Josephine, they were great, but great times don't overshadow violence. It's sick to put up with violence just because other times are good. Josephine has to learn that there are things that you just don't do and just don't say to the one you love. She has to take responsibility for what she throws out into the world around her.
Amina and Shiho are still the undeniable best relationships I had, even though they both ended in betrayal. Disgust and betrayal with Amina. A complete loss of respect for Shiho. But while they were happening, they were great and the feeling from those relationships is what I still strive for.
In the middle are Sakuko, Hiromi, and Luyen. Sakuko and I broke up because of my personal problems. If we started going out now, I think I could fulfill my part to make it work. She really loved me and wanted things to work and tried to make things work. If Josephine put that sort of effort into our relationship, it would be a breeze.
The relationship with Hiromi was the sweetest out of the three, but also the most detached. I never felt we really connected through the hours and hours of intimacy we had in the semester we were together. When the relationship started slipping away, there was nothing for me to hold onto to keep it from slipping away, even if I wanted to.
I don't even have any recollection of how it broke off. It just suddenly wasn't there anymore. We had problems and they just didn't get addressed. We didn't try to work it out. The semester ended and we weren't in each others' plans. We both ended up staying in Oberlin, but not together. We were apart and that set the stage for our walking our separate ways. I really don't remember.
The relationship with Luyen was as tortured as this with Josephine. She was working her way through emotional and mental problems and we argued and fought a lot, but a lot of it was positive fighting and there was no violence. By "positive", I don't mean that any of the fighting was good, but there was a point to it all. Our fights were substantive and we were trying to work things out, personally and together. It wasn't self-indulgent or petty fighting. But I'm not sure I'm remembering that quite right, either.
That's funny. There is no comparison between Josephine and either Shiho or Amina, but there is some element in each Hiromi, Luyen, and Sakuko in this relationship with Josephine. And I left Hiromi, Luyen, and Sakuko. I didn't leave Amina or Shiho.
So the order I put the relationships in is: Amina, Shiho, Sakuko, Luyen, Hiromi, Josephine, Liz, Joy. It's a steep drop between Shiho and Sakuko. I had a lot in common with both Amina and Shiho, although I'm not sure they'd say the same thing about me. They both were into the music they liked and there was plenty of overlap with my musical tastes.
I have little recollection of what music was shared with the others. With Josephine, Liz, and Joy, music was not even an important part of their lives by my standards. Amina and Shiho appreciated the music they listened to, and that was really important to me. It's not the music itself, but rather their attitude towards the music that moved them. That's the connection.
With Sakuko, Luyen, and Hiromi, it's odd because they were all musicians. Sakuko and Luyen played piano and Hiromi sang. And Hiromi appreciated her music. The connection just wasn't there.
******************************
So why am I getting back with Josephine? Why do I love her enough to give her yet another chance, even though I know that this relationship will fail.
Part of it may be because of my own maturity that has come with age. When things don't work, you don't just walk away from it. If you commit to someone, you try to work it out. If someone asks for forgiveness, you give it. Is there hope that we will get out of the cycle of violence? Yes, there is hope that eventually we will get out. Whether it's soon enough is another question.
She's also cute as hell. And her laugh and her smile are to die for. Her happiness is infectious and fills the room.
And just maybe she needs me. She's trying. I'm not about to abandon her. That certainly puts me at risk. She can walk away, and when she does I'll let her go no problem. But I'll keep coming back to her despite the abuse and violence.
I guess I'll just have to wait and see when I return to San Francisco. I have no idea how I'll feel once I'm there; once I see her. It won't be easy. The memory of her expressions of hatred stands firmly next to the memory of the expressions of her love.
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