Baking Cookies

Today I wanted to pick at a part of my past that so far I've only hinted at. I've talked about my bad behavior, my social anxiety, my obsessive compulsive training, my feelings about the future of our Empire, but I've yet to address how I think my childhood has affected my personal relationships. I thought I could, and should, dig into that a bit before I'm done. My current situation as a newly divorced middle aged man should be evidence enough that something needs addressed in that regard.

I wanted to start by telling you of my first true love. Almost anyone who has known me since my high school years will be surprised at who I list here. You see, the same as it became a pattern for me during high school to be a good (but apathetic) student and athlete during the day, all the while a deviant and criminal at night, it also was pretty standard for me to have people in my life I loved, and people who were around for conquest, or entertainment. Some of my conquests stuck around out of convenience, but I always maintained an emotional detachment knowing I'd discard them at some point. As I've mentioned, vanishing and disappearing was one of my social responses, in relationships it was (unfortunately) my specialty.

Many of the girls I called my girlfriends for long periods of time fell into that category. Because I never let anyone truly know me, I never trusted that they really loved me. Like my family who only loved certain aspects of me, I felt most of my girlfriends liked the idea of me...more than actually loved me. They loved being with the fastest guy, or the socialite, the fun guy, or the crazy guy....but none of them really ever knew the entire package. I didn't allow anyone to peel more than a layer off the onion to really know me....

One person though, who I never "dated", knew everything. We laughed together, we cried together, we trained together, and dreamed together...yet I never could cross that line. We held hands a few times. We held each other on the couch while watching movies....but when it came to making the move, advancing the relationship...I just couldn't do it. I suppose many of you by now are guessing her name.

Nicki and I became close friends during our 7th grade year. I was in an accelerated math program with her. It was probably the most miserable time in my life. It was right up there near the end when I thought daily about just when I'd break. Just how I'd end up killing my father. My behavior was on the edge. At school it didn't take much for me cross acceptable boundaries. My 7th grade year ended up being the last with my father, thank goodness, it was also the first time I met Nicki.

I suppose my first memories of her were from that class. She was cute. There was a guy in class named Scott. Scott was one of those richy rich kids (as was Nicki). He was a bully to my friend Mike (nobody bullied me) so I couldn't stand him. I suppose I was hunting for a reason to have at him. One day he started picking on Nicki. Flicking her suspenders I believe. The teacher left the room for a minute and he stood up to do something. I pounced on the guy, drug him out the opened window and was grinding his face on the concrete pad that dispersed the downspout water. When I was done I left poor Scott in a pile on the lawn, calmly climbed back in the window, closed it, and sat back in my chair. The room was dead silent, everyone in total shock.

About 3 weeks later when I was back at school (unfortunately for me that behavior was found to be unacceptable by the school administrators) the teacher refused to readmit me to the class. Instead a desk was placed directly outside the classroom where I could listen to the lecture (not see the damn chalkboard!!!) and take part in the assignments. Because I couldn't see the chalkboard I couldn't take notes and I began to fall behind. Tiffany, Kara, and Nicki took it upon themselves to "tutor" me.

From that point on Nicki and I slowly began a relationship. She was always dating someone and so was I, but we always dropped anything to spend time together. As the years went by we got closer and closer. She was a star tennis player and experienced many of the same stresses over expectations and obtaining a full scholarship. We, I suppose in the words of Forest Gump, were like peas and carrots.

There's a lot to the Nicki story. I saw her all the time. My girlfriends where horribly jealous of her, but they knew if they didn't deal with it they'd get the boot. Nicki and I would often get together in the evening (her knowing I had nowhere to go for dinner) to cook. We tried cooking anything. Later when she decided she'd like to take part in some of the crazy nightly activities I was into we settled on "baking cookies" as a code word. My girlfriends, her parents, everyone must have thought we baked a lot of cookies.

It makes me chuckle to remember some of the adventures she took part in with me. I always picked adventures that I knew were safe. Nicki helped me steal the Christmas tree from the Mayor's front yard. She took part in a massive fireworks attack. She even participated in dumping an ostrich in some poor fools swimming pool. She was up for anything. Some of the funnest evening were when I'd sneak to her bedroom window and out she'd crawl. We'd just go zipping round the streets of the city on my dirt bike. Her arms wrapped tightly around me and laughter drifting behind us like a boats wake.

Nicki knew everything about me....and she loved me. At the time I thought she was too good for me. Her mother and father would have never allowed us to date. Matter of fact, even though her mom loved me, she actively discouraged Nicki from getting close to me. I wasn't the right material. My parents quite the right stature. As small town as Geneva is it's strange that it was like that....but it was. There's more to it than that, and I suppose that's what I need to address, but I built up Nicki as this dream girl that I just wasn't worthy of.

By our senior year we were to the point where we both (of course I never was completely sure at the time) wanted to end all the hidden games and come straight out with a relationship. Tom and Debbie encouraged me to no end but I never could make myself do it. We held each other a lot, but I never could make myself kiss her, or tell her what I felt. That's odd behavior for me since I started being sexually active at such a young age.

Throughout college, whenever I was able I'd drive down to Tennessee to see her. Her boyfriend hated me. When I came to town she'd drop everything and we'd go camping or hiking, or just anything. A few times I hitch-hiked to wherever her team was playing and the tennis girls would hide me away in the bus for the return trip. By now I was starting to make something of myself as a runner. My accomplishments had somehow raised my stock in her parents eyes. Of course, they didn't know all of it and I suppose I still didn't feel entirely worthy.

After my days in Georgia, before I went to the Virgin Islands, I stopped and spent a 4 day weekend with her. She was a senior. While I was off running and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me she'd been dutifully continuing her education. She knew a lot about my battles, they scared her, but she loved me. That trip we decided that once she graduated she'd break up with her boyfriend. She'd come down to the Virgin Islands, we'd start a relationship. I finally had the courage to tell her how I felt. I finally allowed our relationship to go where it should have years before.

We wrote a lot of letters and ran up some good phone bills during my time in the Virgin Islands. I got my life going again. I got awarded a full scholarship back to college. We agreed that I'd come home, pack my car and hers for Texas...and off we'd go.

When I came home from the Virgin Islands she was out of town. When she finally returned I was excited to see her and hurried to her house. I rang the doorbell anticipating the embrace. Something was off. We sat at the kitchen table and she showed it to me. An enormous diamond ring. She'd broken up with her boyfriend and he'd invited her to a family dinner. She'd dated him for 4 years and hoped they could be friends. She didn't see any harm in it. During the meal, in front of his entire family...he proposed to her. She accepted.

She held me in her arms and cried, and cried. She didn't know what to do. She was confused and wanted reassurance that I loved her. That I really wanted her to drop this guy. I kissed her on the forehead, I laid the gift I'd brought on the bed....then I drove away. I went to my house while nobody was home. I loaded my car with all my belongings and I left for Texas. I moved into a house full of Kenyans and ran. I ran, and ran, and ran.



I didn't speak to Nicki for about a year and a half. I came home for the summer with my friend Glenn. We were out running one day and there she was. Glenn knew instantly from my reaction who it was. Her wedding was less than a week away. She asked me if I'd come. She asked if I'd spend time with her that week. I agreed. The rest of the week her mother made it impossible for me to see her. She lied to Nicki, she lied to me, of course we still found ways around all of that, but I guess it still left its mark in my mind somehow.

The night before her wedding. While Sherwin (I know....what a name) was out living it up having a bachelor party we spent the night together on her fathers yacht. That night she told me she wasn't really sure if she wanted to marry him. She said she was happy but didn't know if he'd always make her happy. She told me if I told her right then and there to not marry him....she wouldn't. She cried in my arms and asked me to tell her not to do it. She hunted for an excuse. I couldn't give it.
She had been happy with him. I couldn't make her go through all that, with her family and his....for the chance that we'd be happy together. We'd never tried...I'd never tried. Never in my life had I let anyone in. Even though I wanted to more than anything, and wanted to try with her....I just couldn't take that risk.

The next day I sat at the wedding. I sat there sweating while Glenn was paralyzed with fear that I'd jump up and cause a scene. I sat there, sat there, and sat there... and the rest is history.

So I'm left with this same feeling after my failed marriage. So many times I think I could have done something, anything, and instead I sat there. I should have raged, fought, screamed at Lyuda to break her from her depression. The same as I should have said something....anything...to Nicki. Both of them were looking to me for guidance. Looking for me to give them some sort of reassurance that everything would be ok. For me it's never quite ok, I know inside I often feel one bad day away from running away from everything. So I just fade into silence.

That's why I need to write this stuff. I wasn't really in the mood to write this post today. Zoya asked me this weekend why my blog had gotten so dark lately when seemingly everything is going so well in my life. It's not like I go around brooding all day. Things are going great. I just felt I had a story to tell. Something I needed to dig at a bit and get out. Each day I've set about a bit of time to dig back into my feelings and bring them out. Writers do this in the form of zines and brainstorming. It's a very specific exercise.

I met someone this weekend that addressed this very thought. The idea that sometimes good can come from discomfort. That sometimes the most valuable of experiences, the most cherished of memories...don't always seem all that much fun when they're happening. The idea that growth comes from work and that when people have walled themselves in to only doing things that are fun....there's a marked absence of growth. I need to grow. I've failed in love. I need to address that. So I write.

I was at a party for my friend Craig's 40th birthday party this weekend. While there I bumped into a 16yr od exchange student from Germany named Yana. We got along rather well because of the places she'd traveled and her outgoing nature. A bit of a different discussion then how many laps you swam this morning or what your functional threshold power was I suppose. During our conversation we talked about happiness. What she said (especially coming from a 16yr old) really struck me. She said "I don't travel explicitly because it's fun. Not everything about travel is fun. I travel because it stretches me as a person. It pushes me in ways a classroom couldn't. If I was just into things for fun I'd live like the average American and be back home spending my days eating chips and playing video games."

This exploration, it's not fun. Reading this blog may leave you with the impression that I'm a depressed person. It's quite the opposite. which I suppose is why I'm pulling it down. I write this stuff out, put it down, investigate it....and move on. I'm very happy. Today I'd rather be writing about the run I did this weekend, but I feel a responsibility to get this out.

Now off to run :-)