Flashback Friday: I once was an asshole

For all the lessons I've learned in life, some of the most important ones seem to have been taught to me in the muddled, oft confusing classroom that is a relationship. Flashback Friday is my way of looking back at the knowledge that was dropped and the, sometimes unknowing, teachers who brought it.

New Years Eve, 1999. Like most, I was beyond excited for 2000 to make its appearance. The new millennium! What would it bring? If I had known that, on that night, I was going to do one of the things I am most embarrassed about in my life, I would not have looked forward to it so.

At the time I was dating a 34 year old, a man 12 years my senior. We lived together and he wanted to get married. In fact, just three months prior to NYE, he got down on one knee and proposed with a 1.5 ct. ring he designed himself.*

I was on the fence. Honestly, I thought the guy was hot. And fun, when we weren't arguing which, ironically, became the norm after the proposal. But marriage? I was too young. Had too many dreams. And I just didn't think love lived in his one bedroom Uptown condo.

Fast forward to the night's festivities: I looked good. No need to describe what I had on, just trust that it was fierce. I am in the duplex condo of some uppity couple we didn't know, drinking glass after glass of white wine, munching on strawberries. It didn't take long for me to get drunk.

My man, pissy at me b/c he thought my dress was too short, had spent most of the evening glaring at me from a corner while I chatted up the male cousin of a woman I worked with. My guy came around just in time for a midnight kiss, unsuspecting of the complete and utter asshole-ish, trife hoe-ish behavior that I was about to exhibit.

Brace yourselves.

In case you didn't know, NYE in Chicago is crazy. It ain't safe to drive and catching a cab is next to impossible. We ended up car pooling with my co-worker, her hubby and her cousin (who wasn't even that hot). I ended up in the back seat...sitting next to the cousin...while my guy, the tallest in the pack, sat in the passenger seat.

I was so drunk that I passed out...with my hand in the crotch of my co-workers cousin. And my hand wasn't resting idly; I was giving him a hand job, through his slacks. I have no idea what he was thinking: I don't remember him moving my hand. He simply covered it with his tuxedo jacket, hoping no one would notice.

But they did notice. Everyone was just too polite and well-bred to say anything.

When we get home, my boyfriend/fiance lights into me. And rightfully so. I was beyond disrespectful. We ended up arguing so loudly the neighbors came down to ask if every thing was OK. The argument ended when I had to rush to pay homage to the porcelain gods. I spent the night, literally, passed out in the tub. Fully dressed.

Reflection is a mutha.

As I mentally revisit the night's events, I am okay with saying that I wasn't that drunk. The fact that I remember so many details is proof of that. Subconsciously, I guess I wanted to act a fool so I could get dumped. I was too immature to tell this man I wasn't ready for all that he wanted and, instead, I used alcohol as an escape mechanism.

Little did I know.

Not only did he NOT dump me, he announced to me that he forgave me and that he wanted to move forward with the wedding plans. It took me another six months to finally step outside of that relationship.

When I finally was ready to bail, I woke up that morning and went apartment hunting. I came home that evening, told him I'd found a place to move and was leaving in a week. He was shocked, angry and hurt. I was relieved. A weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

He spent the next six months pursuing me, trying to convince me we should get back together.

I learned quite a bit during this two-year relationship, but this particular drama taught me that honesty is the only thing that can set you free, that you should never allow someone to get too deep if you aren't feeling the same way and that nothing good comes from drinking heavily when you are unhappy.

In case you were wondering...

My ex: he's married now, with two children. I am good friends with his younger sister.
The woman I worked with, her husband and cousin: I never heard from them after that night.
Me: a work in progress.


*I gave the ring back.