Discomfort Woman

The life of a corporate executive is so weird. You’re never allowed to have a bad day. Even if you’ve been in 5 cities and time zones over 5 days, you’re never allowed to be tired. I heard one CEO once say that it is “like being Mickey Mouse in Disneyland.”

One of the oddest things is having to motivate people in artificial ways. These are called team-building exercises. You often have to build a puzzle or create something together. Or sometimes there is competition involved, which awkwardly levels the playing field. The managers have to be okay with losing and being inferior to their underlings. There may be MBTI type exercises where you compare notes and talk about how to work together. We expend so much effort and money improving workplace relationships. Why don’t we do this in our own lives?

I’m imagining going into work tomorrow and saying, “Drop everything everyone! We have do do mattress dominoes.”

Dear ____,

Why is it so difficult for us to actually communicate and talk? That seems like one of the most important aspects and foundations of a relationship. And yet when I open my mouth to say anything relationship-related, the iron curtain falls down around me on all sides. Crickets.

I know this can’t really be a breakup letter because we aren’t even really together. From the times I’ve tried to piece this all together from our snippets of conversation, here is what I have gathered. Yes, we are dating, and yes, it is actual dating, not “casual dating,” whatever that means. We are not exclusive and can date other people without it being considered cheating. We see each other almost every day. We go out together, spend weekends together, go boxing together. You don’t really want to help me with life stuff though. Your ideal scenario would be for what we have going on now (umm, what is that exactly again?) to last for as long as possible until I am ready to have children at which point I should find someone else. This has been going on more or less for 7 months. You remind me subtly at intervals that you weren’t interested in me at the outset. In fact, your first impression of me was that I was a “corporate bitch.” Then we went away on a trip with our friends, and you felt uncomfortable because you thought I was interested in you…and you weren’t interested in me. Great – thank you for that narrative. I feel really wanted.

When I need you, you don’t respond. You are typically sleeping. By my calculations, you sleep 12-15 hours a day and play video games during 25% of your waking hours. With the remainder of your time, we are usually eating or drinking (usually both), or you are working or having alone time.

I accepted all of these things because I truly love spending time with you. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone this much in a long time. You bring out my inner child, my sense of inspiration, and remind me how silly and yet poetic the world can be. You taught me how to set achievable goals and to detach from material possessions. You helped me relax and assume a slower pace of life. From you, I learned that you can basically learn how to do anything on YouTube, including being a near-Michelin starred chef. Who knew the tiny kernel in garlic was bitter and had to be removed? Who else takes time to dry and de-vein each individual shrimp piece by piece? Who else can go to Atlantic City and win $900 playing poker using skill instead of luck? Who else quits his job and doesn’t look back and lives in such a carefree manner? Who else comes to my dinner party and cooks an amazing meal for everyone and then subsequently gets so wasted that he takes off his clothing and starts doing and saying crazy things? You are insane, but you make (made?) me happy.

There are so many things I love, admire, and appreciate about you. However, there are things I really need to be in a happy and healthy relationship too, and I am not getting them. There are some basic things like a hello message in the morning or good night, something to let me know you’re there and thinking about me. I also wonder why it’s so hard for you to say nice things to me. To this day, I’ve never heard you say, “you’re pretty” or “you’re beautiful.” There was that one time you texted me, “That dress is A+++++,” while I was sitting next to you. There was another time you pointed to a dress I had worn the night before and was crumpled up on the table and said, “That dress looked nice on you.” Yesterday, you helped me take the boxes of books down from my closet, and as we assembled them to take them to Goodwill, you insulted every single one and triumphantly indicated that most other people would have been complimenting me on how well-read I was. Wow, good job. You are more of an asshole than other people. Am I supposed to be adoring you for that?

I am upset. I was falling in love. Then I realized you were spending hours a day on online dating sites (in the meantime, not responding to my texts). You even checked OKCupid once while I was sleeping in your bed! I eventually brought it up with you, and you said there was an easy solution and that you would just stop checking these sites. It was very unceremonious, and few words were exchanged. What about my feelings? Anyway, I shed some tears over that. There was another time I cried quite a bit wondering why it was so hard for you to just say one nice thing to me, something to make me feel amazing. Something genuine, heartfelt, and loving.

We drink too much. I had stopped drinking, and with you, I have started binge-drinking all the time. Some nights, we go out and drink at least 15 drinks each! That is just not healthy. I told you no more shots, and you continue to get us shots. I don’t have a life that lets me live that way. No more “One time, Grace. Just one time.” I’m not amused anymore.

You got me sick with some horrific virus recently, but where are you? You haven’t even checked in on me. I have people who barely know me asking me if I’m feeling better. Where are you?

I can’t even bring these things up with you! That is the worst part. We are great as friends, and I guess we will never be in a relationship.

I know you don’t want kids, but when I asked the hypothetical question about what you would do if I accidentally got pregnant, you said you would use your other passport to flee and leave the country. I said I wouldn’t make you take any responsibility, and you said you would just leave anyway. And if your future son showed up at your doorstep 30 years later, you said you would say sorry, I can’t have a relationship with you. I truly think you are a good-hearted person, so I am really confused about how cold you can be. I know you care about people and that you’re empathetic. I see you cheering up your friends. But when it comes to me, sometimes it is just radio silence. Or maybe I am refusing to see the real you somehow. Maybe you are a bad person, and I am just too blind to see it

I can’t really do it anymore. My patience has worn thin. Yesterday, you said that if you put me on a pedestal, I wouldn’t like it. By that, I think you mean that you think you need to be somewhat mean to me to get me to stick around. Maybe that’s true to some extent. It’s true that I don’t need someone who is going to bend to my will at every moment, and it is just not attractive when someone is overly submissive. No, I don’t need to be on a pedestal, but I deserved to be loved and adored for the person I am. I am tired of your implications that I am not pretty enough, thin enough, or whatever.

Fun times are sufficient for friends. I actually think we could be amazing lifelong friends. I just feel so frustrated by where things stand with us romantically. You’ve taught me patience, and I’ve broken the chain of being in highly co-dependent relationships, so I thank you for helping me see things differently. You have provided me support in some ways, and your presence has helped me make some really important changes in my life. It has also made me stronger and more balanced when facing my day-to-day responsibilities. I’ve probably consumed an extra 1K calories/day in food and 1K calories/day in alcohol with you, but it was needed – I needed to lighten up about my diet and grinding myself into the ground with all my rules of paleo, Atkins, calorie-counting, and Whole30 diets. I feel like a more complete person.

I guess I want more…but I only want more with someone who wants more and can actually be good to me and nice to me. I don’t want to be in a committed relationship with someone who is always marching to the beat of his own drum and might just leave at any moment. I need someone I can rely on.

You just called me back finally. I just got done Skyping with you. One of your comments was that you appreciated it when I wrote you earlier today and said I would stop texting you. Wow. Yes, I do understand and appreciate that you don’t like texting. Today is not the day for sharing that comment with me. I am super sick and have no voice. Where have you been?!

I think it’s time to close this chapter. I’m happy for the times we’ve had, and I strangely think we will seamlessly transition into friendship. We’re not good as a couple, but we are amazing as friends. Let’s do that and be friends forever. I still love you.

OK, let me not be contained for a moment and also say that I think you are an insanely selfish asshole manchild and at this moment, I also completely despise you. I cannot believe I emotionally invested in you as much as I did. I should have spent the time working on myself rather than trying to bend to you and become the woman you wanted me to be.

I would never send you this letter because I know it’s just too many words. You wouldn’t be able to read it. Screw you for all the ways in which you have made me feel insignificant and like I don’t even matter.

I’ve said my piece. I know we can get past this. Let’s just rip off the band-aid.

The Cat Lady

Every time I move, I say “never again.” For many years, this sentiment kept me in apartments I didn’t particularly like. I was complacent and apathetic, and familiarity can also breed contempt over time as well. This is where I found myself in May. After 3.5 years in my Upper East Side apartment, I woke up one morning thinking there is no way I can do this anymore, there is no way I can live in NYC anymore, and it’s time to take action.

The rational side of me, which often prevails, said, “Hey, the best time to look for an apartment is a week before you move in, and you will surely find a subletter. Just do it.” The emotional side of me was saying, “Oh, but if I move, it absolutely needs to be perfect, and I don’t even know what perfect is. I don’t want to spend more than I do now, and I’ve never paid a broker’s fee in NYC. This is so impractical! What about the furniture? And I travel every week, so when am I even going to get this all done?! What should I do? Why can’t someone just swoop in and take care of everything for me?!” Panic time.

First step: I started perusing StreetEasy and Craigslist to get a sense of the market and general price points in NYC, San Francisco, LA, and Chicago. I knew I needed a change, and I decided that whichever of the 4 cities worked out first would be where I would end up.

Second step: I sent out hundreds of emails and engaged in endless text conversations with patient friends.

Third step: I started dreaming of everything I wanted and had fantasies of BBQs and outdoor space and started narrowing my search further that way.

Ultimately, I had one day in NYC to really look at apartments. All were duds, and I was walking around the LES wondering what my next move should be. I looked up at a building that seemed reasonable. There was a sign advertising apartments for rent, and I called it. “Hello,” a voice answered in a pleasant German accent. “Hi, I am in front of a building with your number on it. I am looking for an apartment, and I would like to look at one now. Would that be possible?” Pause. “Sure, I will transfer you to someone.” Then an odd Eastern European female answers and asks a few questions sounding a bit stoned. “Come to 88 Rivington Street.” Done. We looked at a bunch of apartments, and I saw a few that were quite nice. “Can I sign the lease?” I asked. “Well, you need checks, paystubs, and we need to do a credit check…” I interrupted her. “I have everything, but I only have an hour. We worked quickly, and I ended up with a loft on the Lower East Side, with a move-in date 2 weeks later.

Ouch. Now what to do with my existing apartment on the Upper East Side? I immediately listed it on AirBNB and Craigslist. I ran breathless up the stairs to the third floor to see if my landlady was at home. Her daughter answered and said she would be in Europe for the next month. “Michelle, I am so sorry, but there are some personal things going on here, and I really need to move. I will be moving out in 2 weeks, but I will find someone for you to take over the apartment and pay you an extra $100/month in rent.” She sighed and said, “I understand, but couldn’t you have just painted the bathroom?”

The next day I organized to meet someone who had responded to me on AirBNB, and we agreed to set up a summer lease. I pulled together the documentation, and she signed. The subsequent 2 months made me definitively realize that landlords have one of the worst jobs ever in terms of dealing with difficult people.

I started to pack up the contents of my life, which can be quite emotional. When I had moved into my Upper East Side apartment, I had just gotten out of an 11-year relationship and felt so scared, so broken, and so hopeful. Everything was new, and I was venturing out into the world as a solo independent person for the first time in my adult life. I don’t know if everyone does this, but I associate my homes / apartments with distinct phases of my life, and they are inextricably tied to my sense of identity. With all the changes experienced over the past few years in my work and personal sphere, I realized it was time to cut ties with the past and breathe new energy and space into my intentions for the future…a sort of unsticking process. Home is the anchor for one’s sense of place and identity. It should provide comfort, peace, and stability, and when it stops doing that for some reason, it’s time to go!

I am a packrat…or I should say WAS a packrat. It was painful for me, but one of the most freeing things I did was to just get rid of most of my personal effects. The hardest thing for me to shed were my books. They were memories of a past literary me and my life with my ex. I actually just packed those up and left them in the apartment because I wasn’t ready to let them go. In the end, I think I either left or disposed of 90% of the contents of my old apartment and decided to start anew. It is refreshing to get rid of the weight of the past. This symbolic gesture does help lead to greater clarity of mind and a lightness that I haven’t felt in a long time. I had been dragging so much of the past around with me.

The move to the new place was not easy. Firstly, the apartment wasn’t ready, and they were not able to tear down all the walls, as I had requested. I asked my new tenant if I could keep the boxes in my old apartment for one more day, and she said no. Soooo…I learned that the best thing to do in that situation is to put everything in storage. I called the usual places like Manhattan Mini-Storage, Box Butler, and others, and I received some ridiculously high quotes and given that June is the peak moving season for NYC, no vans to actually pick up the boxes. A friend referred me to squarefoot.com, which was a godsend, and the nicest woman in the world called me back after I had selected a place, and she helped to get a discounted space for me for the month. I only needed a day though. Then it was time to get movers, less than 24 hours before I had to move. I did the standard Google search and Craigslist search, and I realized that the world of moving services is such a fragmented space filled with guys just answering from their cellphones and record-keeping in thick binders filled with hieroglyphics as far as I could tell. I ended up with Andre and his crew of 4 people. He was very very angry, as I think moving is a pretty tough profession. In the end, we ended up making a connection, and I am still extremely grateful to him for all of his help moving me into storage and out of storage into my apartment. We exchanged many phone calls and texts, and I trusted him enough to give him my key to my storage unit to bring me my remaining life effects because I needed to be at work earlier in the day. The main lesson is that moving seems so daunting, but it always gets done, and it can get done ASAP when needed. I hope I’ll remember that next time.

Yesterday, I moved the remaining items out of my apartment on the Upper East Side and into Goodwill around the corner. I was tempted to bring my life’s relics with me back down to my new apartment, but I resisted. It’s time to reflect, hold the good memories in my heart, but fundamentally move forward. Afterwards, I sat at the outdoor cafe of a Tex-Mex restaurant around the corner. I sipped a frozen mango margarita, which I never do and had never done in my 3.5 years in that neighborhood. I reflected on the familiarity and the novelty, said a quiet mental goodbye to that chapter of my life, and wondered what future-me would think about that moment in time.