Minding the Gap: Part IV

Future Tense and Present Perfect

It wasn't long before Phil started talking about the future. On a fairly regular basis.

Not just the vague sense of a future that we might potentially share, as he had suggested in an e-mail he sent to me. No. The future. Talk of why we should get a pet turtle instead of a dog. Or why he wants to name his first-born son after Ridley Scott (I'll let you imagine how the Name Geek in me reacted to that little morsel of disturbing news). And how we should get a house with a garden (you know, so that the turtle can be free-roaming).

He told me that he was going to go home to see his parents for a weekend. And it was partly because he wanted to tell them about me. He wanted them to know that this was the direction that he believed his life was now headed.

And I squirmed.

He was not following the proper Order-of-Operations.

He's not the first guy I've dated who has strayed a bit from typical relationship protocol. One guy used the L-word after we'd been dating for two weeks. Another used it before we'd had our first kiss (and never wanted to be known as my boyfriend). One started referring to me as his girlfriend despite knowing full well that I considered the situation casual and had gone on dates with other people.

And now, Phil.

He didn't understand why I would squirm at his verbalizations of the life that he had imagined for us. He didn't understand why I wasn't as gung-ho on future plans as he was. He said that he'd started to avoid bringing them up, because he thought they freaked me out. And I recognized that I hadn't given him a proper explanation of the problem.

I told him that I wasn't freaked out; I was confused, because I was getting two sets of messages from him.

I pointed out that I find it a little strange that he wants to talk about the future, and marriage, and children... but he's uncomfortable with the idea that we might be in a relationship, or calling it "exclusive" or "committed". I explained to him that it was screwing with my head.

He wants to make a life with me.

He wants to get a pet turtle.

He wants kids.

He wants a garden.

He wants this beautiful future...

But he can't commit to next week.

He seemed stunned. He'd never noticed that his behavior might be befuddling.

I didn't really know whether we were on the same page, because it felt like he flipping back and forth between chapters. I told him I was willing to meet him on several different pages, but I needed to know where he was in order to do that.

I told him that I was in an incredibly vulnerable position. He said that he was, too. And while I know that's true, it's really nothing in comparison to mine. First of all, as I said before, I've jumped in with both feet, while he still hasn't.

And second, look at our worst case scenarios... Let's say something happens that prevents me from moving to London. Phil suffers heartbreak, but ultimately not much else changes for him. I suffer heartbreak, and the course of my life, my career, and my finances are all drastically altered.

Or let's say I do move to London, and then we break up. Phil suffers heartbreak, but moves on with his already-established lifestyle. I suffer heartbreak in a foreign country, with no support system, on a 5-hour time difference from anyone who can comfort me... And ultimately, realistically, there's a pretty good chance that it would result in me moving back to the USA (as much as I don't like to admit that, it is a possibility). And also a good chance that I'd be dejected, broke, and depressed.

Look, I'm not trying to be a man-trapper. I don't need labels and definitions. I don't want him to feel like he's in a cage and can't get out (because a guy did that to me once, and I resented him greatly for it).

He seemed confused and overwhelmed at first. He tried to give me explanations and defenses. I told him that they weren't necessary. I told him he wasn't on trial. I wasn't trying to pull a guilt trip. I wasn't trying to pressure him into (or out of) anything. I just wanted to bring everything to his attention.

I know he's trying to protect himself because of how badly he's been hurt in the past. I know it's hard to commit to someone when you're uncertain about whether you'll ever be in the same country (despite efforts to make that happen). I know that long distance comes with more uncertainty than the average relationship.

He said that more than anything, he wants to be in an exclusive, committed, serious relationship with me... But that's he's too afraid to do it until it's 100% definite that I'll be able to move there. He said that he has to get to things in his own way. He said it's hard for him to explain, but if I'll just trust him for a bit, that when he can he'll give me everything. He kept saying things like, "trust me," and "have faith in me."

I told him there's no rush. There's no deadline. No ultimatum of, "if you don't agree that we're in a relationship by this date, then I'm going off to see other people." I'd be in a far less vulnerable position if I did, of course... but I'm not interested in that sort of game. (Sorry, author of Why Men Love Bitches. I have to make my own rules.)

He said, "Well, I have called you my girlfriend to some people. I guess I don't really have any right to do that."

I said he can call me that if he wants to. I just need him to let me know if that's where we are. I asked, "Are we in a relationship?"

"Er... yes. I mean... Are we?"

"I'd like to be," I said, "but I wasn't sure where you stood."

"Then... oh... uh... yes?... I mean,..."

He seemed terrified at the prospect.

So we reached a compromise. For the moment, we would cut down talk about the future, and we would stay in this middle ground where he felt comfortable.

It didn't take long for me to realize that he's committed to this, whether he's willing to use relationship terminology or not. The words don't mean as much to me as actions, anyway. So I loosened up a little on how harshly I react to his hypothetical future plans.

And a couple of weeks later, we reached another compromise...

We would name the turtle Ridley Scott, and spare the child.

You know... hypothetically.

May you find a way to get on the same page.

~A~