The Probable End of the Gus Saga

So, as you know, Gus and I have been quietly, casually dating since the first week of May.

I probably like him more than I should. But he's the nicest, kindest, most compassionate person I've ever dated. He actually puts my well-being ahead of his own, regularly. I'm not used to that, and it's great. And he's sweet to me. He has told me that sometimes my beauty takes him by surprise, and that it's like my features were carved from Grecian marble, and he gasps, and wonders how he got so lucky.

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I went away for a couple of weeks. To Connecticut, and New York, and Chicago. And I took some time away from my life. And I lived in a little world of freedom and fantasy for a bit, and it was lovely. And exactly what I needed.

And I came back. And once I got here, I realized that I really cared about Gus. And I really wanted to commit to him and make things work with him.

I told him that, on Monday when I got back from Chicago. He seemed happy. And surprised. And excited. And worried.

"I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you," he said.

"What, like imminently? Like, tonight? Or by the end of the week?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Gus, every relationship I've ever been in has ended. All but one were ended by the other person. If at some point you dump me, I'm sure I'll survive. But right now, I'm really happy. So unless you're going to dump me imminently, let's do this."

He smiled and agreed

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Last Wednesday night (two days after I got back into town), under the stars, we went hiking up some mountain in Brentwood or Pacific Palisades or somewhere. We stared over desolation, seeing the city sparkling in the distance. And he got all serious, and turned to me to speak, but couldn't look me in the eye...

He said there's this girl that he was in love with years ago. And they've had kind of an on-and-off thing for three years, mostly off, because she was living in New York and they just couldn't deal with long distance.

Wednesday morning, after two years of saying she was going to move to Los Angeles to be with him, she bought a plane ticket. She said she's just coming for the summer, but it's a one-way ticket. He thinks she might be The One (my words, not his), and he doesn't want us to overlap. He says he cares too much about both of us, and it wouldn't be fair to anyone. He said it would be unrealistic for him to expect that nothing would happen between the two of them, and he doesn't want to hurt me.

He decided to break up with me, in order to try to pursue something with her.

If he didn't try with her, he'd always wonder.

I didn't know exactly how to respond when he told me. I asked him how long I had with him until she got here. Two weeks. She arrives on the Fourth of July. I didn't want to let him go. So, for those next two weeks, I told him I wanted to stay together. Because I'm not ready for this to be over yet. Even though I know that's probably a self-destructive choice.

He said, "Really? You know this is pretty much the best way this could have possibly gone for me." And that was that.

So we agreed. We'd keep dating for the next two weeks. And then, when she arrives, we're through.

And the Fourth of July will truly be my Independence Day. In the most depressing way yet.

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The first couple of days, though my heart was a little sore, this plan was working just fine.

He avoided telling me about her, and I avoided asking. I didn't want my last days with him to be him thinking about someone else. Or defending her. Or telling me all the reasons that she's better for him than me, and remembering how much he cares for her.

We stayed up late on Wednesday night. We hung out again on Thursday night. On Friday afternoon we went to a movie (Monsters University, which I actually really enjoyed).

Saturday, I threw a small garden party in my backyard (long story). The original plan was that Gus would come to the party late and be the last one to leave. I was surprised when he showed up early into the party, looking weirdly stoic.

He said he felt sick. He was convinced he was getting an upper respiratory or sinus infection of some sort, and he couldn't stay long. I told him he needn't have come, and should be in bed, resting. "I didn't want to disappoint you," he said. I looked for my Mucinex for him, but I'd had a few drinks by that point, and I'd cleaned for the party and had no idea where anything might be.

A few of our mutual friends from the theatre company attended. And, as a result, Gus kept his distance from me at the party. It's silly, really. We kept our relationship a secret from them all through the show. And that day, we should've finally been able to stop keeping it a secret... But it just felt like there was no point. Not when we would be ending things in a week and a half.

He was one of the last to leave, but he left before we could talk. Without even a good hug. And I don't remember seeing him smile at me the whole time. 

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Sunday, I had an audition right by Gus's apartment. Literally a 2-minute drive away, according to my GPS. If you have any idea how massive Los Angeles is, that's just insanely close. Could've walked from one to the other.

So I packed up some things. Dayquil and Nyquil. Mucinex and Mucinex-DM. Sleepytime Sinus Soother tea. Minestrone soup. Cranberry juice, strawberries, and a couple of beers leftover from the party. I texted him saying I was going to be right by his place, and would drop off a care package.

And what happened next is difficult to explain in blog form... just know that it felt more insane than the following...

He gave me a, "You're so sweet, you don't have to do that," kind of response. I said it was no trouble. He gave me a, "That's really not necessary, but how nice of you," kind of response. I said it was just some stuff from around my house. He said, "I'm leaving at 2pm, so you probably wouldn't get here before I left," and I said, "No problem, I'm super early, so I'll just swing by before the audition." Then he was like, "I'M SEEKING CARE ELSEWHERE. Sorry for the caps, but sometimes when someone says, "No, thank you," you can take them at their word."

Huh? I don't understand boys.

So I called. I said look, if you don't want me to come by, that's fine, just say so. But you're being less clear than you think you are."

He said he didn't look sexy. I offered to leave the bag on his porch, knock, and leave.

He said to come on over.

*shrugs*

When I got there, he gave me one of the biggest, longest hugs ever.

What was this? Did he feel guilty? Did he need comforting? Was he just sick and irritable? I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

So after unpacking the bag of goodies, and getting a ton of thanks, and another long hug, I went to the audition.

And then I wrote a text message novel.

: You don't have to be afraid of hurting me. Especially not now.

: My audition is over, and I considered coming over to try to talk again, but I know you are trying to get on the road, so I won't.

: You've said that when things end with you and women, it's often because of things that have nothing to do with you.

: I wonder if you seek out women with issues like this so that you can avoid feeling rejected. Because it's not about you when they leave; it's about them.
: And I think maybe it makes you uncomfortable to be separating yourself from me, a person who is accepting you.

: I don't want you to feel guilty.

: I wanted to do something nice for you today. And I'm still not sure why that made you react the way you did.

: But it was something I wanted to do. Not something I felt obligated to do. Not something I did to try to win your love.

: It was no trouble. And there was no ulterior motive.

: You're my friend. You're sick. I care about you.

: I have gone to houses of sick friends, made them soup and tea, and left them to rest and recover. It makes me feel better knowing that I've tried to help.

: So thank you, for accepting a little help, albeit reluctantly.

: It was nice to hold you.

: I hope you feel better soon.

He wrote...

:Thank you. Talk soon.

I don't understand boys.

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Monday he went to see the doctor, who gave him six weeks worth of giant pills and told him not to kiss anyone for two days.

I met him at an IHOP between the end of his work and the beginning of my improv class.

We had a lovely time. It was fun. We laughed. He was a little sick, but still very Gus-like. And I loved it.

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Tuesday was the day I had a freaking meltdown. A guy friend of mine who is trying to woo me called me crying about something traumatic in his day, and I calmed him down. Naturally, when he called me back to thank me and tell me how much I'd helped, I felt it was my turn. And I friend-zoned him SO HARD.

I started crying about Gus. About so many things.

And then another one of my potential suitors called, and he got the friend-zone weepies, too.

And they both told me the same thing:

YOU HAVE TO STOP SEEING HIM.

Two reasons:

1. The longer I date Gus, the more attached to him I'll become, and the more difficult my Independence Day will be.

2. Leaving him now, before she arrives, will somehow make him realize how much he wants to be with me and will make him want me more.

I told them both I was going to ignore their advice. While fully knowing, of course, that they were right. Even if they were giving the advice from a place of, "Leave him to date me!"

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Wednesday we met for lunch right by his office. And it was a lovely lunch. Very fun.

He'd had the first rehearsal for his play the night before. The play that I wanted to be in, but that he didn't cast me in. (He told me that I didn't have enough seniority in the theatre company, and that he'd had to cast people who had been in more shows with them already.) He said that the massive cast was all there but one person, and how amazing that was, because it's so hard to coordinate schedules of actors in non-paying theatre. I asked who missed it, and he said, "Some bitch."

And I don't know why... but something clicked. And I knew.

"You cast her in your show, didn't you?"

That girl who got away. The one who is coming from across the country to be with him. He put her in his play.

He didn't try to deny it. He said that someone else had turned down a role, and he'd offered it to her, as she was "going to be here anyway." And by that point, he said, he thought it would have been weird to cast me, what with us breaking up so that he could be with her.

"I'm not sure I can go see your show now. I'm going to know it's her. And I'm just going to be thinking about it the whole time."

"No you won't," he said. "Three of the girls in the cast haven't worked with us before, so you won't know which she is. It'll be fine."

So that seniority excuse for not casting me was a total lie.

I told him I thought we should stop seeing each other. That this was too difficult for me.

"No," he said, "I don't accept that. I don't think that's wise. Obviously we should keep seeing each other."

He gave me a bunch of reasons. But none of them very good.

He told me that his whole life, his relationships with women have been a disaster. They always leave him. They never last. He hasn't had a girlfriend since he was a junior in college.

"And now, the two least likely things in the universe have happened at the same time. One, I'm dating a girl whom I really like who also really likes me. And two, the girl of my dreams is coming to be with me."

He sees it as a lose-lose. And he's not sure he's making the right decision. But he's known her for three years, and he said that as a cold, mathematical decision, he feels that she outranks the girl he's know for three months.

And I get it. I do. 

And I do have to commend him for being classy. For telling me upfront. For not just lying to me and saying, "this isn't working," when clearly it is. For not leaving me once she was here and decided to try things with him for real.

We left it ambiguous.

And I felt lousy.

So I went to karaoke with three of our mutual friends. And this girl came up.

As it turns out, they know all about her, and her backstory with Gus. Apparently she's also choreographing the show. And he's been saying she might come out here for awhile. And none of them thought anything about that was weird, because none of them knew that he and I were dating.

I was livid. And I burst into tears in the middle of the karaoke contest. And I broke down and told them all the truth.

We've been dating since the first week of May. And I'm crazy about him. And he's breaking up with me for this girl. And he told me I could be in his play, but must've changed his mind when she told him she was available to choreograph it.

And they were all shocked.

And they were all furious.

There is, of course, far more to this story than I feel comfortable putting on the internet. But trust me when I say that last night, Gus turned into the villain of this tale.

As I went up on stage for my last song at the karaoke competition, I announced on the mic that not only had I just been dumped, but that I'd found out the guy I'd been dating had been lying to me. A handful of singers from other acts came up on stage to be my back-up dancers. All the men took off their shirts. Each judge can award 1-10 points. Judge #1 gave me a 10. Judge #2 gave me a 20. And Judge #3 stripped naked and held his sign in front of his junk, saying I was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen, and a damn fine karaoke performer, and that no guy should have hurt me like that... and gave me a 70. 100 points out of a possible 30, and I set a new record at that karaoke contest. My trophy was a bong, which I have no idea how to use and will probably end up being a prop at a theatre someday. But at least I got a win out of the day, right?

Gus was staying at his parents' house last night. Thank God. Because otherwise, I might've driven to his apartment in the dark, banged on his door, and demanded an explanation then.

As it was, I had to convince myself not to send a long, angry email.

I started drafting one just to get things out of my system... at three in the morning...

Dear Gus,

I would like to make the following points:

- A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. You have me. She's a risk. You're an idiot.

- You lied to me. I know she's your choreographer. I know you cast her. And I know you knew she was coming out here long before you told me, and long before I fell for you as hard as I now have.

- I'm not sure I can express right now how much you've hurt me. And damaged me. Because if I had baggage before (with trusting men and fearing abandonment), you've just upped that exponentially.

- I thought you were a good guy. I really did. Congratulations, you're a much better actor than I gave you credit for.

- Does she even know about me? Does she know that you're hurting someone who is kind and cares about you?

- Why was it such a point of controversy about whether I should be in your show, but it's no big deal in your mind for her to be in it?

- I've been sad in break-ups before, but I don't remember ever being this angry.

- Do you have any idea how much I've cared about you? And wanted to be with you? And tried to temper my feelings for you, because somehow I knew this was going to happen? But then I came back from Chicago and thought, "No, I really like him. I really trust him. I'm happy. This is going to work."

- Why did you want to hide me from everyone? Is it because you knew long ago that you were going to dump me when she got here? And you didn't want to look like the bad guy? Guess what, Gus: you are the bad guy.

- What are you going to tell your mother? Are you going to tell her that you are the villain in this?

- I hope she hurts you far more than you hurt me.

But that seemed too harsh. And a little crazy. And I knew it was a bad idea to write while I was angry and tired.

I tried again.

Dear Gus,

I know we said I might see you after your rehearsal tonight, but I'm not sure whether I have the strength to see you. My head is swimming right now. Of course, it's also three in the morning. But in this moment, I am confused, and hurt, and feeling used. I know in my heart that you are a good person, and someone I have wanted badly to be with. And I feel lost and conflicted. I'd like to talk to you in person, but...

And then I came to my senses, closed my laptop, and went to sleep.

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ANGELA: I'd like to see you today, daytime, and sit down and talk.

GUS: I'm in the same sitch as yesterday... Can you come [near my work]?

ANGELA: Yes.

GUS: 1?

ANGELA: Sure.

GUS: Super -- cya then

ANGELA: Warning: there's a very good chance I'm going to get emotional.

GUS: I inferred that with my powers.

ANGELA: I know she's your choreographer.

ANGELA: And I know you wanted... [a couple of other things that are weird out of context]

GUS: "Wanted"? Where are these hard facts coming from?

ANGELA: I thought I'd try to give you the benefit of the doubt and let you explain, in case the "hard facts" are indeed not so hard.

ANGELA: You must've known she was coming before you told me.

GUS: Not true.

ANGELA: Alright, tell me over lunch.

GUS: I told you it had been in the air forever. She booked her trip, I told you.

GUS: 99% of men would not have been as honest with you as I was/am, and I'm not really interested in walking into some kind of ambush.

ANGELA: I'm not interested in ambushing you. If I were, I wouldn't have given you a heads up via text.

ANGELA: I'm still crazy about you.

ANGELA: I know you're a good person. And I know you actually care about the well-being of others.

ANGELA: Which is why I'm so confused by the information I was given last night. And why I want to know the truth, from you.

GUS: "I told you it had been in the air forever. She booked her trip, I told you."

GUS: That's where it starts and ends.

ANGELA: If I didn't care about you as much as I do, this wouldn't matter.

ANGELA: But it seems I am more fond of you than you are of me.
GUS: Stop it.

We met. We spoke for two hours, even though his lunch break is only one, and there was no lunch eaten. We met by the bleachers next to a baseball diamond in the park. I got a parking ticket, adding to my fantastic streak of luck.

And the thing is...

I can't stay angry at him. Because I actually do really want to be with him.

And I know that I shouldn't be sitting around, willing to be strung along. Waiting on the back burner. Available to be someone's silver medal.

But this is where I am. It's pathetic. But for some reason, I can't stop myself from clinging to him. And I HATE THAT.

And I got this whole long email from Phil today, and I can't even GET INTO that, because I'm still dealing with this. One boy problem at a time.

I'm going over to his apartment tonight to talk more. I really don't think anything besides talking is going to happen. And I anticipate more tears.

But I wouldn't be crying if he didn't matter this much to me, right?

I just feel awful.

I feel discarded. Again.

I hate men.

And I hate myself for falling for ones who, for whatever reason, can't love me the way I deserve to be loved.

~A~