With the emotional clusterfuck I've been going through these past few days, I resigned myself to thinking that Amy and I were done. I couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't understand why she acted the way she did.
Until today.
I caved in. I admit it. I responded to the two text messages she had sent me last night that I didn't receive.
And then a full blown conversation resulted. I should paste up the messages just to show how epic it had ended up being.
I called her out on her bullshit and she called me out on mine.
The toughest thing that I've never wanted to admit to myself, after all these years, not one mention of it has appeared on my blog. The one fact that I was too ashamed to face, was brought into the open.
I am hard of hearing.
I've been this way since birth. Nobody seems to know what caused it, but the possibility of a fever I had as a child (so it wouldn't have been from birth, apparently) is what the general consensus is for this condition.
Initially, in grade school, I had to wear hearing aids. Not just hearing aids, but my parents made our first grade teacher have to wear a doohickey around her neck that would better amplify what she was saying to me, directly.
Let me tell you this, first off. My hearing was not THAT bad. It really wasn't. I found out later in the years once I decided to stop wearing them, that I had a very comfortable range of sound in my ears. A test was presented to me once by a doubting teacher who demanded that I wear these things. She and I were in her office, and she deliberately turned her back as if she was writing on a chalkboard.
She then asked me what my name was, my address, and certain other questions. Trying to goad me into slipping up and validating her demand that I wear these bloody things.
I got every question right. I did not need fucking hearing aids. And this cultivated resentment. It bred arrogance. Distrust towards figures of authority telling me what I should be doing.
And not only that, but I was suffering under the shame of my peers. Who at that early age, would point to my ears and say, "what are those earrings you're wearing?" and I felt so fucking ashamed and humiliated that I took them right off once I started grade four.
And surprisingly, I didn't do too bad in school because of it.
My father championed my cause, believing in me while my mother and teachers did not. I heard well enough to get by, even though high pitches still eluded me.
I don't know if I can remember ever hearing a bird sing. Though, I've read of it.
And that is probably what made me become such a voracious reader. It is why I was at the local library every Sunday with my father, checking out armfuls of books.
It was just so appealing to read, and know that I am not missing a single word.
Because of that, my reading and writing shot up way past my peers. I had been reading "normal" books by the time I was in grade six. I still remember silently smiling to myself in grade four when a classmate attempted to read out loud from a book and had to trace his finger along and stutter his way through.
That's when I started feeling special. Superior to everyone else. And slowly developed my arrogance.
When I think about those early years, it felt like I had every justification for behaving the way I did. I do not regret my actions. I did not appreciate being thought of as different than anyone else. I laughed out loud at a teacher who tried to compare hearing aids to glasses when he said, "look, I wish I didn't have to wear glasses, but I do!"
Glasses are not like fucking hearing aids. Everyone wears glasses. Who's going to think any less of you for it?
But when you're dangling upside down from a rope in the gym and your hearing aids are dangling down along with you; then you start to appreciate the differences. You start to become "someone else" and not "one of them".
I hated feeling that way.
So I stopped wearing them.
It took many years before I began to start having difficulty really hearing everything as well as I should be. I would put the years at around.. 2002, when my girlfriend Elizabeth at the time tearfully exclaimed to me, "you can't hear..."
I got upset, and told her I could hear fine. But because I had revealed this earlier to her, the conversation she was giving me (about being more of a boyfriend to her), was being ignored. I just didn't want or had nothing to say to that.
And it only made me feel like I really needed to keep this disability hidden away, because of moments like that.
Then, the depression sunk in. I'm not sure if it was because of my hearing problems, or because I had not found a good enough girl to be with; I just became sad. Withdrawn.
Eventually, I snapped out of it and spiralled down again, up again and down, levelled off and here I am.
And I've lost two women in my life, which my lack of hearing can be blamed for. Both directly and indirectly.
Let's talk about Lauren, first.
It took a month before she decided to break up with me out of the blue. The reasoning was because I didn't pass her friends test, which I wrote about in detail earlier in the blog. Part of the reason I could not get along with her egotistical friends, was that they were all talking so rapidly, in such a flurry -- that I could not comprehend the half of it.
I'm not rewriting history or anything, but my deafness was a contributing factor to our first attempted breakup. When she complained that I didn't connect with her friends, that was true. But despite my feeling that they were a couple of stuck up egomaniacs, had I been able to follow perfectly what everyone was saying -- then I could have at least faked being polite.
There was a moment in the car while we were all driving together, when I was asked a question. It just came out of nowhere, from this hailstorm of words preceding it and I was like..
"uh, can you repeat that?"
It's a subtle thing, but it was demonstrative of how little attention I was paying. From which could be inferred that I am being intentionally distant from which could be drawn.. that I didn't like these people. Or that I'm anti-social.
It's funny how non-verbal cues and peripheral observations can lead to such conclusions.
And then Amy came along. I hid my disability and my sense of denial was so strong about it, that I didn't think to explain to her that I couldn't hear some of the things she would tell me about. I didn't want her to repeat herself and make me feel incompetent. Broken. Damaged.
Our first three dates went so well, and she wanted to take things slow -- that I thought I had nothing to worry about. That all things will be revealed in time.
But time ran out.
Two days, it seems, after our passionate night at Shoguns; she suddenly became withdrawn. Texts were short, she appeared distant and uninterested and it was driving me mad.
The day after Shoguns, things were fine. I even got a "I'm getting quite attached to you" message, but the next day? That was when she met the other guy and decided to completely ditch things with us.
And not tell me of any of it.
For a gruelling nine days, I had to endure it. I had to struggle to try and understand what was going on. It didn't make sense for her to suddenly start acting like this. Not after what we had.
So, when we met up for breakfast after nine days apart; she revealed the truth to me. Almost with hesitation, as I walked her to her car.
She told me she met somebody else. And that she didn't want to date me anymore.
I was floored. I didn't know how to react. But at the same time, I was relieved to finally know what was responsible for her behaviour.
So, she lied to me. It figures. How can I ever trust a woman again? No matter how well I can connect with somebody, it won't guarantee that we'd be together for a long time. That she would be cordial enough to give me a fair chance. To take things further along. To let us reveal ourselves slowly. To really know one another.
I couldn't think of much else to do or say because she had to leave for work in a few minutes. What a terrible way to drop this on me. "We're broken up. Goodbye! Gotta go!"
I.. think most guys would've gotten really upset here. They would've begged. Pleaded. Called her a bitch. Maybe even hit her.
I did the exact opposite. I leaned in, and reminded her that what we had shared at Shoguns, was still there.
I didn't feel angry about any of this. I felt partly to blame.
She told me she wasn't expecting me to do what I did.
I kissed her hand and walked away. Not turning back.
That was the last I would see her until Sunday evening. But it took Sunday evening and then our texts on Monday for me to realize how I helped end things.
I couldn't connect with her well enough for her to be smitten by me.
Had I been able to flow along with her conversations, things might have been different. I would've smiled more. I would've joked around more. I would've contributed more interesting and insightful things.
She would have forged a stronger connection with me.
And who knows, maybe that wouldn't have been enough anyways.
But.. On Monday, I told her my dark secret. That I was hard of hearing. This was after she had told me she was raped by an ex in the past, and that something happened with a group of guys while she was in college. I felt sick to my stomach knowing that it made sense why she wanted to take things slow with us..
But still.. she rushed into something else, with another guy. That's.. unforgivable in my eyes.
As we exchanged texts, she asked if we could be friends. I don't know why I said what I did but I think it was because I felt so sorry for her. That she experienced some terrible moments in her life. And that I would be willing to put aside my intentions of having a romantic relationship with her, for the sake of keeping her company.
I.. okay, this blog post has been ongoing for two days now. It may sound disjointed, but it's now Tuesday evening. I tried to be a "friend" to Amy today. Texting her superficial messages. And I realized later that night, that I hated it.
I hated it so much. That this is what being "friends" is going to be like.
Pretending like I didn't have feelings for her.
I just texted her minutes ago, saying that I can't see this ending well. The facts were, that she dumped me for some other guy with no consideration for my feelings. Only hers. She disrespected my feelings and purposely discarded them without any thought about how I would feel about it.
Well.. That would make her a bitch now, wouldn't it? Why should I delude myself otherwise?
I had told her that I love her, but I didn't love who she is now. I loved the girl that I kissed at Shoguns. I loved the girl that sat on my couch and helped me find the "button". I loved the girl that I held hands with at the farmer's market, who stroked my back while we looked at birdhouses.
That's the Amy I love. That's the Amy I want to be with.
Not this.
I feel physically sick right now. I know I have to go live my life. I can't spend my days wondering and wanting and wishing. I have to move on. To forget about it.
If Amy loved me, none of this would be happening right now.
So, she clearly doesn't.
And that means I shouldn't bother being friends.
Not with someone who would treat me this way.
And I should not try and think that things will change between us down the road.
But.. God.. I just want to be with her. To touch her. To talk to her. To smell her. To hold her hand and kiss and hug and laugh and smile...
But she could not open up her feelings to me. I don't think she ever really did. I can't remember the last time she asked me a question about myself. Like a real, "I'd like to know more about you" type of question. I can't remember if she ever poured her guts out to me. She certainly hasn't approached anything at the level that I have been giving her.
So, I think I'm done. I can't suffer this heartache any longer. It's not what I deserve. I've gone through worse before with Lauren, but this is just going to send me over the edge again.
I won't do it.
Fuck that.
And fuck her for wanting me to be her lapdog.
I love her .. she doesn't love me.
It's not worth it. Unless there was a reason for me to hope otherwise.
And there isn't.
We're done.
I need hearing aids.
