I'm A Glutton For Punishment And Good Wine

Some days I get to try to write something pithy about someone else’s relationship, life experiences, or even their book, rather than focus entirely on my own story. But some days, I have to come clean about something I want to change about myself or a cycle I’m trying to break, and in this case it’s Poor Bastard. I feel really bad. But that’s exactly what he wants.

I know what you’re thinking. Why the hell is she still talking to him much less going to dinner with him at Bin 36 tonight? Well, okay, now you’re thinking that because I’ve been too embarrassed to tell you about our dinner plans until today.

But here’s what happened. Since I broke up with PB he’s become the cartoon character with a constant rain cloud over his head. One bad thing after another keeps happening to him and I swear to God, these are LEGITIMATE THINGS. It’s like I freaking cursed him.

First his best friend’s soon-to-be-ex-wife called his parents, yes his parents, and told them PB was responsible for her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s substance-abuse problem, which just got him kicked off his Major League Baseball team. I can assure you this was never the case. She’s just being the gold-digging bitch that she is and trying to take the blame for this off herself so she can walk away with more money in her divorce settlement. For the record, I do not insult other women like that unless I really, really believe in what I’m saying. She’s just not a nice person. And PB didn’t deserve that.

Then, because Poor Bastard really is a sweet, sweet guy, he’s been paying off his ex-wife’s credit card bills since he divorced her, and he knows she can’t afford it. When I met him he thought he had taken care of it all, but then wouldn’t you know it? He gets a call from another debt collector, this time for $7,000. Perhaps I should buy him dinner tonight.

Most recently, he dislocated his shoulder. PB used to be a PGA golfer. But he screwed up his shoulder and didn’t take care of it properly, and now it’s all messed up. He can still kick ass at golf, but he hardly plays anymore because it just messes him up more. By the way, when he went to get his shoulder relocated or whatever, it took twelve tries, and the doctor said it was one of the worst situations like that he’s ever seen. The entire area wasn’t black and blue…it was just black. I know this because he sent a picture of it to my cell phone.

So as all of this stuff keeps happening, I can’t bring myself to stop talking to him. I’ve explained to him, many, many times that I’m in a different place now and I don’t see us ever getting back together. And he tells me he understands and that he just wants to be friends. But somehow, I don’t believe him.

Because while all of this shit’s been hitting the fan, he’s turned into Super PB. My friend SW told me about this phenomenon when I broke up with The Ex, because he did the exact same thing. The Super version of your ex takes inventory of everything that could possibly be responsible for the breakup, whether you’ve mentioned it or not, and then does the complete opposite in an attempt to win you back. For instance, I tried to get him to read when we were dating, but he quickly lost interest. In Harry freaking Potter. Now Super PB’s practically giving me weekly book reports about Lord Voldemort. Also, PB is a big guy (I have this strange things for bigger dudes that we’ll have to get into some other time) and now he’s been going to the gym every day, in spite of the bum shoulder. I wouldn't want him to lose weight even if we were still together!

I get the feeling he thinks that it’s these adjustments he’s making to his life that are keeping me around, when really it’s because I feel so bad about the things in his life he can’t change that I can’t bring myself to completely extricate myself from it.

I am a terrible person.

But he just makes me feel so terrible for him.

So yeah, we’re going to dinner again. I know I’m going to have to put an end to this eventually, but I’d like to see him get his life back on track first. And, in a twisted sort of way, this might be to his benefit because in turning into Super PB, he is actually bettering his life. In the last month, when he isn’t busy braving a total shit storm, he’s been seeing a trainer, a nutritionist, and a physical therapist about his arm. He’s started giving golf lessons again (which he likes) and he’s signed up for his first PGA Tournament (which he loves) in four years. He’s vowed to take care of his shoulder and get back in the game. That’s got to be a good, thing, right?

Ugh. I don’t know. Once again, I have no idea what I’m doing.

But I guess that’s how I ended up here, writing this blog to work through things. Some of you probably think I’m doing the right thing, and some of you probably think I’m evil. But at the end of the day, I really only answer to myself. What I do doesn’t actually affect your life, so it’s not like I can ask you to back me up on this one. At least I’m finally calling the situation out for what it really is, rather than giving another review about a book on relationships or talking about getting drunk again. Now I just have to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about it.

Happy Friday Everyone.

xo