Too Good to be True?

(This story is about someone who answered a personal ad I once placed)

From the second I heard his voice on the recorded message he left me, I was extremely attracted. He had this incredible voice. I called him shortly after hearing his message, and we talked for over an hour. During the conversation, we made a plan to meet for dinner a few days later.

When I got off the phone, I was very much looking forward to meeting him -- I was attracted to his personality from our great conversation, and also to his voice, which I loved from the moment I first heard it. Before we met, I replayed his recorded message several times, thinking, I'd love to hear this voice whisper to me before I fall asleep at night.

Although it's a standard no-no to have a personal-ad date pick you up in their car, in this case I felt it was okay. The moment we met, it was instant attraction. At dinner, we laughed, talked and had a great time. We stayed at the restaurant until after eleven, and then he drove me home.

When we got to my building, he asked if he could walk me to my door. We walked into my lobby, and wanted to kiss goodnight before we parted, but it was cold in the lobby (and not very private), so we decided to go back into his car for our first kiss. We ended up staying in the car for a while -- holding hands, talking and kissing. It was getting late, and I kept saying, "Just a few more minutes...."

He asked if he could use my bathroom before he drove home. When he was in my apartment, we got to kissing some more, and before we knew it, it was three a.m. Time had flown by -- it was so nice to be with him.

As I was holding him, I said, "I don't want you to go." He didn't want to leave either. We decided he would stay over, but not "sleep" over. We would be perfectly respectable, and we were. We kissed and dozed for what hours of the early morning were left, until it was time for me to get ready and leave for work.

When he was driving me to work, we were both in a daze from the suddenness and intensity of our connection. We were both extremely attracted to each other on many levels. It was intense and deep. He called me about an hour after I arrived at work. From that first night on, we were connected. Never before had I met someone I related to so deeply, so instantly.

On Friday, I couldn't wait to finish work, because I had plans to visit his apartment and stay over (he lived in New Jersey, on the other side of the Hudson). His apartment was really nice -- spacious, tastefully done, well kept, and with great views of the New York skyline out of the many windows. Also in his apartment was what would be the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in -- it was king size, had a featherbed on top of the mattress, all cotton sheets, big fluffy down pillows, and a fluffy down comforter.

We spent the entire weekend together. We were like two love-struck puppies -- smiling as we gazed into each other's eyes, constantly holding hands, touching and caressing, every moment together being pure bliss. It was incredible. Many times he would smile and shake his head as he looked at me, and then say, "You're so beautiful, you're so beautiful."

On Sunday, we met one of his best friends for brunch, and went to a Shakespeare play. It was a great afternoon. That night back in my apartment, while we were kissing and holding each other, the feelings between us were so, so strong. He said, "I really... like you. And I'm only saying that because I can't say what I really want to say."

"What is it you really want to say?"

He paused, and then replied, "That I love you."

I knew that was what he was going to say. "Just a moment ago, before you said that to me, I was thinking I feel the same way about you -- but I thought it was crazy, and I shouldn't say it. But can we really love each other after only three days? Is it possible?" We agreed it was a crazy thing to say -- and think -- after such a short time. Yes, it was crazy, but we felt it was true.

When we saw each other one weeknight and I slept over, we barely got any sleep, and it was hard to get through the next day, so it was decided weekends would be better. I so much looked forward to Fridays -- I missed him throughout the week, and spending time with him became my favorite thing to do.

It was fun to get his calls at work. When my phone rang, I never knew if it would be a business call, or if it would be him on the line, saying hello and wanting to talk to me. And when I was home, sometimes I brought my phone to my bedside if I got into bed early, in case he called me later. It made me smile and feel so good when he said, "Goodnight, and sweet dreams," to me before I fell asleep.

We met on Saturday of the next weekend, had a fun night out, and went back to his apartment. (He had a much bigger apartment, so I preferred going to his place.) When we woke up on Sunday morning, we talked of how incredible and intense things were between us. It didn't matter what we did -- so long as we were together, we had a great time.

He said, "By April (it was mid January), if things keep going as well as they have been, I think we should talk about spending more time together." It definitely seemed like things were heading into a "let's see if we're right for each other, for forever" place.

Later that day, we drove into the city, and had an especially nice brunch at a quiet café. After our meal, we sat for a long time, holding and caressing each other's hands across the table, while we talked or just looked at each other. I felt so peaceful and content when I was with him. He said, "I see women who are beautiful, but they don't have the beauty you have behind your eyes. You're beautiful. And adorable -- as in 'adore.' I adore you."

That same day, I met another of his close friends, and the friend's wife. We stayed at their apartment from late afternoon until evening, drinking tea and chatting, and then we ordered in food for dinner. I felt completely comfortable hanging out with these friends. Things couldn't have been flowing smoother. The more time we spent together, the more our feelings for each other deepened.

When the next weekend arrived, I couldn't wait to see him. We had a great day together on Saturday, and we returned to his place after our outing. He gave me a massage before we went to sleep (he's a massage therapist). I asked, "Remember the words we said to each other that seemed crazy? Well, do you still think them?" Not that I doubted it, but I wanted to hear him say he loved me again.

"You mean saying 'I love you'? Of course I love you."

When we woke up the next morning, while still lounging in bed, he said there was something he had to tell me -- something that would be difficult, that he didn't want to say -- but had to. After much hesitation, he let it all spill out....

He told me he couldn't promise that he would remain faithful to me. He couldn't commit -- it wasn't his nature. He said for many, many years, he has hopped from relationship to relationship. He would be living with a girl, meet someone else, and then leave the girl he was living with to be with the new person. Or else he would cheat on a girl he was steadily involved with. He said he couldn't trust himself to not do that to me as well, even though I was different:

"No one has ever kissed me, touched me, held me -- like you have. I have feelings for you I've never felt for anyone in my life... When I think of all the qualities I could ever want in a woman, you have every one of them -- you're beautiful, kind, sweet, giving, loving -- I love you, but I can't commit to you. I can't break your heart like I know I will someday."

 

It took some time for me to comprehend this, and for it to sink in. When I realized the implications of what he'd said, I became terribly upset. I got up from the bed and left the room. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to take my morning shower. In the shower, it hit me that we were through -- I had to leave and not come back. It was going to be over between us, for no apparent reason other than the impending future, at a time when we were in love.

After my shower, I started to rummage around his apartment and collect my things. He heard me open a dresser drawer, and start shoving things into my bag. From the bed, in a soft voice I heard him say, "What are you doing? Are you packing?"

"I guess," I mumbled, fighting back tears.

"Come here. Come here, Laura...."

I walked to the bed, and stood at the edge of it. I looked at him with welled up eyes and a sorrowful face. He motioned several times for me to come closer. Slowly, I climbed next to him. He put his arms around me, to hug and comfort me. I started to cry, and said, "Why do you have to be that way? I don't understand. Don't you want to keep what we have between us? It's so rare and incredible."

He said he was sorry, but that's the way he is, and he can't be sure if he'll ever change. He said he had to tell me before we spent even more time together, and I had completely given my heart to him, only to have him shatter it someday. He said he couldn't do that to me.

After some time, I left the room. I went into the living room, and sat down on the couch, alone, looking out the window, crying. I loved him and he loved me, and I had to end things between us -- ours was a love that couldn't be. It was sad. I was sad. I don't know how long I sat there, but he found me in the living room and sat down next to me.

Without saying a word, he took my hand and held it in his. With his other hand, he slowly wiped away some of my tears. We talked quietly, and I saw tears fall down his face as well. I wiped away his tears. When I looked at him, I thought back to how incredible it had felt to kiss him. I asked, "Can I have just one kiss?"

"Of course you can."

He moved closer, and we began to kiss. It was still incredible. The one kiss turned into a whole kissing/touching/holding thing, which I savored, because I knew it would be one of our last.

Afterward, we had coffee and talked about what would be next. He said, "I love you. I don't want for you to leave, and never see you again. Can we be friends -- maybe talk on the phone, have dinner once in a while, rent a movie?"

Sullenly, I replied, "I can't be 'just friends' with you after all this -- I wouldn't be able to see you and not want to kiss and touch you." Saying this made me cry some more.

He said he was going to take a shower. When he was in the shower, I walked into his bedroom. The room was bright from the light of the sun, and the winter sky was a beautiful clear blue. I climbed into his sumptuous bed, knowing it would be for the last time.

Fresh from his shower, he came into the room and saw me under the covers, looking out the windows, with tears in my eyes once again. He pulled back the covers, and climbed into the bed next to me. We stayed in bed for a long time - kissing, talking, crying -- saying our good-byes.

Later, I got dressed, and finished packing my things. As I walked toward the door to leave his apartment, I said a silent good-bye to this place I so much enjoyed visiting.

We walked downstairs to his car for my trip home. Previously, when we had ridden in his car, I always held his hand when he was driving, or had my hand on his leg, gently caressing it.

But this day I sat with my hands folded in my lap, my head turned away, looking out my window. He reached for my hand, and I limply let him hold it. He held it pressed to his heart for the entire ride to my apartment. I fought back tears the whole time. Sometimes they escaped me, and ran down my cheeks. He asked, "What do you feel?"

I paused, and replied, "I feel... loss."

We got to my lobby, and stood in the very spot we did that first night we had met, when he asked if he could walk me to my door. I said, "This is the spot where it all began." With tears in my eyes and my head down, I said good-bye.

He asked if he could call me and say hello sometime. I think I nodded yes as I turned away, opened the lobby door, walked down the hallway, and into my apartment.

I wasn't sure if he'd call. Even though I had supposedly ended it, I still wanted to see him. I didn't want for it to be over. As much as I rationally knew I had to get over him and move onward, emotionally it was a different story. I was soon to find out how easy it was for emotions to take over rational behavior....

He called me after two days (the scant amount of time we lasted cut off from each other). We had a two-hour conversation - oh, it was good to talk to him. During this conversation, he read me the contents of a postcard he had written, but hadn't yet mailed, on that tear-filled Sunday we broke up. It read as follows:

Dearest Laura,

Today surely has been one of the saddest days in my entire existence, but it was also one of the most beautiful. Spending the night into morning with you was exquisite. You are exquisite. Your eyes, your touch, your loving open heart. You are love in being and in form, and I love you and cherish the time we have been together like no other time I've known. And I always will.

I believe we are earth angels for each other. I know you are one for me and I pray that in being honest with you, I am one for you. We are something special for each other and with each other. I want to know you and have you in my life, but I realize this could be difficult. I know I have made you sad and I can't tell you how that pains me, to my very deepest soul.

Yours, Henry

Supposedly we would be friends. We made a plan to do some benign shopping the following Saturday afternoon. When he arrived at my apartment, we didn't kiss or touch or anything. Instead, we politely chatted for half an hour or so.

Then I sat down next to him to change the CD. He asked what my new, short haircut looked like at the back of my neck (it was hidden by my shirt's collar). I leaned slightly forward and dropped my chin. He put his hand on the nape of my neck, and began to smooth down the hair at my neckline. I was a goner from that very moment -- we were soon in an emotional embrace, and the "just friends" idea was quickly tossed out the window.

When he left my apartment the next morning, I was in a pleasant daze. We had talked about our situation, and I said I wanted to continue to see him (granted, on his non-committing terms), despite knowing that imminent danger, caused by his fear of commitment, lurked in the distance. My rationale was: "I have a great time whenever I see him, and I want more of those great times. I know my heart may be crushed in the future, but I don't care -- if it happens, I'll deal with it then." He was happy about continuing to see me, because he hadn't wanted things to end in the first place. So we resumed seeing each other.

My good friend Megan, who knew of our situation from the beginning, said to me, "When you go out with him, hold hands, and act like a couple, you're not -- he's only your 'pretend boyfriend.' Is that what you want, a pretend boyfriend?"

One night while we were out listening to music, I was sitting on the edge of his chair, his arms wrapped tightly around me, I remembered what Megan had said. This seems so great, but deep down it's not. He's only my pretend boyfriend. I want a real boyfriend. I want to have a future with someone, and chances are it won't be with him.

He called me often, but we didn't see each other that much -- weekends were still the only possible time, due to his "busy, draining weekday schedule." Once again, I waited all week for Friday. Friday would come and we would have a fantastic weekend together (or part of it), and then it would be over, and I'd be back to waiting until Friday again. I never felt satisfied. I always wanted more -- more time with him.

One weekend we were together, at around three on Sunday afternoon, he asked, "Are you almost ready for me to drive you home?"

I said, "But do you know what day it is?" (I was off on Monday because it was Presidents' Day.)

"Oh, tomorrow's Presidents' Day. Do you have off?"

"Yes, I do. So, do I still have to go home?" I asked with a pout.

He said yes, I did have to go home -- he needed Sunday night to be alone, and "prepare" for the week. My feelings were hurt. Here we have the opportunity to spend some more precious time together, and he wants to be alone? But he has all week to be alone!

I knew he very much enjoyed spending time with me, yet it puzzled me why he didn't want to see me more. Time with him was a priority for me, yet it seemed time with me wasn't a priority for him. The imbalance in our relationship began to expose itself.

And then: a Friday was approaching, and of course I was looking forward to it. He called on Thursday, and said he wanted to go out with a buddy on Friday night. He asked if we could get together on Saturday instead. I didn't realize how upset this made me until I got off the phone and sat with my feelings.

How much of a priority can I possibly be if he's choosing to shoot the shit with his buddy on Friday night, rather than see me, after not having seen me all week? And it's not like they wouldn't have any time to hang out, because in less than a week they were going away together on a five-day trip.

But what right did I have to complain? I realized that's just it -- I didn't have any. In a non-committed relationship, you don't have rights. Both parties can do whatever they want, whenever they want, and the other person can't say much -- that's what "non-committed" means. Well, I want my rights in a relationship. I want committed. I called him back and said, "This isn't working for me anymore."

If I hadn't tried the relationship a second time, I would have been left thinking I had to leave because he was a consummate cheater. But in seeing him again and getting to know him further, a different reason seems to have surfaced. I now think timing is the reason he didn't want to commit. When we had first met, he told he had broken up with his girlfriend of four years four months ago.

"You broke up only four months ago, and you were going out for four years? That's not a very long time to get over things! Are you sure you're ready to be with someone else?"

"Yes -- I'm ready, definitely. Even though we broke up only four months ago, emotionally, it's been over for more than a year."

At the time, I accepted this statement. I figured he knew how he felt. Well, it turns out he didn't know. No matter how much he enjoyed spending time with me, nothing was more valuable to him than his newfound freedom.

I've certainly learned that ideas about commitment have to coincide for a relationship to work. Important qualities such as personality and mutual attraction only go so far if both people aren't on the same page regarding commitment.

Someday, with someone, it will all fall into place for me. I look forward to that day.

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I want to thank you for sharing the Henry Saga as you did, it helped me feel much less isolated and stupid to know that things like this happen to other people too, and that it is the fault of the Henry's (or in my case John's) of the world and not the Laura's (or in my case Margaret).

Here I am on another continent (I live in Cape Town, South Africa) but it was like reading my own story, even down to the way you met and your first date.

The moment of truth in my story came when I dropped by to see him early one morning, and found him in bed with someone else. He was sorry, it was a one off, and so it continued, fool that I was. I gave him one more chance only to discover he was out with her again two nights later.

I have gone through so much anger and self-recrimination, asking myself how I could have been such a fool, but knowing all the while it was he -- not me -- that was defective and the loser. In time I will summon the reserves to start again... your story has carried me one step closer.

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