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Pt.4 When he arrived home from Amsterdam-by-way-of-Paris he was in for a shock. So was I….
It was the day after my birthday and two whole months since we last saw one another. Since I last said ‘I love you’ and he last laughed ‘You’re only human’.
I never felt comfortable in cleavage, but I donned it that night. Determined to prove I had just as many desirable assets as the girl who got paid to look pretty. When I met him at the door he looked no more or no less excited than he ever did.
We left for his favourite restaurant. In the car I waited, excited, for the talk. The one he had promised. The one wherein he’d admit his folly and profess undying love for me and my girdled waist. It never came.
Three hours later I was on my third glass of Sancerre. He was going on about dirty Amsterdam and annoying French bureaucracy – the name Van Strudel noticeably absent from all conversation – when I asked “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
He smiled and winked and then offered up my present. “I don’t know if you’ll like this,” he said, “it’s rather girly.”
When I was little and use to beat up Cousin Dusty my grandmother told me it wasn’t ladylike. I meditated upon her words as I fought an unmitigated urge to leap on the grinning European across from me.
“It’s not as if my name’s Chuck!” I snapped, and snatched the envelope from his hands.
Before I could open my Day at the Spa he said “Pardon?” and I growled these words:
“I paid three hundred dollars for hair I hate………. and ok, my legs may not actually be any longer, but in these heels, they look it …….. and I’ve spent the past eight weeks taking dieting tips from Parisians who eat cotton balls soaked in orange juice to stay thin JUST to look fabulous for YOU! And all I get is a ‘You Ain’t Girly’!”
His face said it all. A big ball of apathy, amusement and anger that couldn’t figure out whether to laugh or scream or just not care.
I crossed my legs and crossed my arms and waited. He drank his wine and finished his dessert. He smoothed the napkin in his lap and never looked up. His voice was low and slow when he spoke.
“Buffy…..I don’t feel that way about you. I never have. I never will.” He paused. Like he needed time to form his words. Like he hadn’t said enough already. “It’s never going to happen. You need to stop this.”
He didn’t look at me when I stood up and asked for my coat. Or when I walked out into the almost-autumn air to hail a black cab home.
That night I cried. I gave the dress to a homeless lady who lived in an alley two streets over, shoved the shoes under my bed and packed a suitcase for Dew on the Kudzu.
On the plane I wondered when I’d finally learn. When I’d stop trying to change me for someone else. I was resolute. Firm. For eight whole hours. But by the time I landed, I was already planning my return.
Continued……
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[...] Continued….. 25 Comments so far Leave a comment [...]
Pingback by not so super model pt.4 - plain simple english 08.29.06 @ 16:29I admire you for telling him how you felt. You might have regretted it if you didn’t and always wondered “what if.”
Comment by Katherine 08.29.06 @ 16:58I’m not sure I could have faced him after opening my heart to him. I did once, it ended badly. I’m not sure I could ever do it again.
Comment by themarina 08.29.06 @ 17:37I know that conversation, and that look on his face, and the way you must have felt like puking after.
God, it’s hard.
Comment by Melissa 08.29.06 @ 18:02Wait a minute…I thought this was a story of your husband and you? I’m so confused now, I have to actually go back and re-read the entire not so super model story-line to get a better understanding of the whole situation, because I gotta admit Buffy…I am not liking this guy at all. He totally rates up there with Billy Zabka (aka Johnny Lawrence) in The Karate Kid.
Comment by David 08.30.06 @ 21:08Ugh. Have been THERE, for sure. I’m sorry. But as cliche as it is, you don’t need someone who needs you to change. Or someone for whom YOU think you need to change. : )
Comment by kerri anne 08.30.06 @ 23:18Buffy, you’re such a great storyteller! I’m looking forward to the rest!
Comment by Elizabeth 09.01.06 @ 3:37You are a fabulous writer and I really admire you for telling him how you felt. It takes guts to do something like that and if you don’t, you’ll always wonder. Also, if you have to change for him, he’s not the right man. The right man will love you as you are and never make you think you need to be someone else.
Comment by singlemuslimah 09.01.06 @ 16:58one of my biggest fears in life is that my zeal will push me into a defensive tornado of a fit and that i will be forced to be rejected by pure unaffection. it’s so hard to be ourselves when we want something so badly because it’s so easy to believe that our little acts will change things.
rings of fire dont impress people who hate the circus. i guess it’s that plain with the opposite sex regarding matters of cleavage and profitable beauty.
beautiful write.
Comment by sara 09.01.06 @ 20:14I feel for you. I’ve admitted my feelings for guys before, and it sucks getting rejected like this.
Hope things work out for you, even if he isn’t the right guy.
Comment by Pia 09.02.06 @ 2:35You’re a wonderful storyteller. I was hooked and had to read it from the beginning. I’m going to link to your post from my blog, hope you don’t mind.
Comment by v 09.02.06 @ 18:40My heart is aching. Aching.
Obviously you recovered, but oh what a story.
Mine with my husband is slightly different, there was no supermodel in the picture, he said no numerous times. Eventually I prevailed … it can happen.
Oh man I hadn’t read these posts before, but my heart breaks a little because you describe it so well.
You are a terribly amazing writer missy.
Comment by Lucy 09.03.06 @ 2:55Welcome Back!!
loves
i’ve been here before, but came over today from V’s blog, you’re a great storyteller and I found myself wanting more (and hoping its fiction)
Comment by sage 09.03.06 @ 20:18WOW! Wowy, wow, wow – Wow! The emotion is as raw as if it just happened!
Comment by Joanna 09.04.06 @ 1:18I love how you write so honestly and straight from your guts. I have added you to my blogroll. I am looking forward to the next chapter.
Comment by Heather 09.05.06 @ 1:20oh GAwd! cotton balls soaked in orange juice? both my heart and my stomach flipped for you when I read this…what a great post! =-)
Comment by Ryane 09.05.06 @ 19:48Well, I certainally know how that feels..ick.
Welcome back, though:-)
Comment by ldbug 09.06.06 @ 17:41It’s heartbreaking to think that someone you have these feelings for doesn’t have them in return. A cruel joke by humanity if you ask me.
Comment by Erin 09.07.06 @ 17:38We all live through one of “those” relationships.
Excellent post.
Comment by Broady 09.12.06 @ 22:41Rejection is a dish best served chilled. It’s also not good to serve it to a woman baring cleavage. Actually that’s just wrong.
Comment by Liz 09.25.06 @ 21:12Read this whole story yesterday… great piece of writing – but sorry this happened to you! My best friend is a 5’11″ Dutch blonde… but nothing like that Strudel! And then I’m 5’11″ too… and she is one of the few people I don’t feel awkwardly tall around 
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