Nine Years, One Condo, and Zero Rings

The year was 1976. Chris and I had been together for nine years. We enjoyed each other’s company and were good friends. We shared friends and fun times. Chris had a great sense of humor. He was a disc jockey on the local radio station.  He would talk about things we had done together and as he told his story, I could barely recognize it as a place I had been. He was able to make it sound like an enviable experience and one that anyone would like to participate in. 

I was in my late 20’s but our behavior mimicked the good times of teenagers. I had missed out on these times because of nursing an ill sister and weathering two bad marriages. This relationship of ours was a respite from everything serious and heavy. I was able to laugh again and to enjoy being silly and carefree. In the beginning, this friendship was welcome and enjoyable.  As I moved out of my 20s and into my 30s, I began to realize that I wanted more out of life than a fun relationship. 

I longed for some sort of security and a commitment that would ensure that this relationship would stand the test of time. Chris could be warm and funny. Sometimes he could be distant and show a wandering eye. I suspected that there were other women that he had been involved with during our time together. After a few years of dating, we invested in a lovely condo. There were many parties with friends, holidays spent together, and times of great frustration. 

Over the years we had started to discuss making this relationship official. I had to admit that I wanted to be a wife and not just a playmate. I wanted to be able to plan and discuss our lives seriously without everything being turned into a joke or a funny story. 

After one particularly difficult period, I asked Chris where this thing we had was going. He said that he loved me and said it was time to plan a wedding. I said that was silly since he had never popped the question or said anything about becoming a lifelong couple. He replied that he wanted to decide when this moment would come and wanted it to be a surprise. I accepted this answer for the moment and chose to take things a day at a time. 

That night, he didn’t return home at his normal time. He wasn’t home by bedtime. I didn’t receive a call. I was worried at first and then became upset. Two weeks went by without a word. After the seriousness of our last conversation, I wasn’t surprised. Over the two weeks, I looked for options. I found a couple who lived at Silverado Country Club who needed to go on an extended buying trip and needed someone to house-sit for them. I interviewed with them and was accepted as their house sitter.

When he finally returned to our home, I asked for an explanation. He said he didn’t want to talk about it. He said he needed time to “think” and that I should leave it at that. There was no explanation of where he had been or with who. I could no longer accept his vagueness and lack of honesty. This was the last straw for me.

As soon as the house in Silverado was ready, I moved out. 

I promised myself that I would stick to my guns. This was not an easy change and at the same time, I realized it was a change that was past due. It would have been easy to go back. This time I decided to be resilient and to go forward with my life. I can’t blame Chris for his lack of commitment. I had accepted the relationship without my future needs being considered. I knew there was no other option that worked for me. I surprised myself with my resilience and felt good about my ability to recover without regrets.

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