The Republican

I met The Republican at the Halloween swing dance at Glen Echo (October 2004). I was having a lousy time even though it was fun seeing all the costumes. I didn't dance much and spent too much time avoiding the scary guys. It was a breezy, warm night and I saw a few people outside on a little porch. I wanted to go out there, but I couldn't get the door to open. I walked away, but a guy on the porch opened the door and called me back. He asked me if I knew how to dance. I said yes and he said, "Can you teach me? Show me."
"No." I always say no.
"Oh, c'mon. Just show me the basics."
"I can't. I don't know the lead. And you'll hate me."
"I won't hate you. Why do you say that?"
"It's never turned out well when I try and give someone a lesson."
"I promise not to hate you."

I tried to show him a few things but he was talking so much that we stopped dancing and stuck with talking. He was smart, funny and silly. I'm likely to be serious and I like to be with someone who can bring out my silly side. There were leaves falling and he said, "Catch one. It's good luck!" And we ran around the little porch trying to catch leaves.
"Is everyone different, like snowflakes?" I asked. "I've never heard that about it being good luck."
"I just made it up!" We laughed and kept trying to catch leaves.

CK, who I met at the dance, came out and said she was heading home. I introduced her to Mike. A few minutes later Mike and I left. He walked me to my car and I said I would drive him back to his. When I got to my car (the Flexcar), I couldn't get it unlocked. I'd left the dome light on and the key card wouldn't work. I called the emergency line at Flexcar and they said they would send someone, but that it would take at least two hours. I wasn't upset, more like incredulous. Mike and I dicussed what to do and he said, "Let's go get my car and we can wait here for them."

We parked his car next to mine and sat there, talking, laughing and generally having a great time for something like three hours. It didn't seem very long because the time passed so quickly. The tow-truck guy finally found us, Mike dealt with him and I got the car started. There was a long hug and a couple of kisses goodnight. And a problem.

Mike hadn't wanted to mention it, but after an hour or so of sitting in the car and a few probing questions (Why are you living at home? Why are you at that job you hate?) he told me that he was getting divorced. He was separated, but they were still settling things. The divorce was not final and might not be for a few months. And he was still angry. While I believed that his wife didn't treat him well, I think it takes two to tango and I was sure that he had his fair share of blame.

And I have a rule about that: don't date men until they are actually, officially divorced. I don't have this rule because of personal experience, it is based on my parents. When my parents separated, my dad started dating other people. My mom thought they were still working things out. They did, in fact, get back together. Being separated doesn't always mean the same thing to both partners. It's best to wait until the divorce is final. I have no rule against being friends with a guy in this situation, but ideally I would hold off on the romance until later.

When I met Mike, I was pretty sure I was going to break my rule. It was a dilemma. I really liked him. I told him about the rule and he asked me what I was going to do. I said I wasn't sure. I never thought for a second that Mike would get back with his wife. The problem was, could he handle a relationship?

A day or two later, I emailed him. We made plans for dinner. The night before our date I called him, I think just to confirm, but maybe to say hi since we hadn't talked since the first night. He said, "What are you doing right now?"
"I'm walking home."
"Want to have dinner?"
"Now? Sure. Why not?"

He picked me up at home and we went to dinner in Chinatown. It was November 4th, the day after the election. Mike said, "I'm really happy today."
"Oh, why's that?"
"Because of the election."
"What? You're happy?"
"You're not?"
"You're kidding. Wait. Are you a Republican?"
"You're not?"
We stared at each other. I couldn't believe we spent all those hours in the car talking, telling each other our life stories and this never came up. Not a whisper of it.
"I'm not even a Democrat."
"What are you, a socialist?"
"Yes."
More silence. We finished eating and split the bill.

We drove around and went to the Jefferson Memorial. We talked a bit about politics. He wasn't just any Republican, he was a Bush-lover. But he wasn't an anti-abortion, more-God type. He believed Bush was better for national security than Kerry. I strongly disagreed, but it's not the kind of argument I enjoy. I said, "Maybe we could just not talk about it. We obviously have enough to say to each other without getting into politics." That's pretty much where we left it, although once in a while he would tell me "You really are a Republican, you just don't realize it."
"Does that mean you're really a socialist?"
"No."

He took me home and came in for a while. We cozied up on the couch and kissed a little. He said, "So, I'll see you tomorrow?"
"What?"
"Don't we have a date tomorrow?"
"I guess so, but I thought--I thought tonight was the date."
"No, we have plans tomorrow too--if you still want to."
"I want to."

He wanted to take me to a pizza place in Arlington. (He grew up in Virginia.) I suppose we would have gone, but I was burglarized. I got home, the door was ajar and my dvd player, portable cd player and (more heartbreakingly) my computer were gone. I was stunned but not angry. I called the police. I called Mike. He was upset and asked what I wanted to do. I didn't know. I wasn't thinking that clearly. He said he would bring a pizza over and joked that he thought that he would get there before the police. He didn't. By the time Mike showed up I was a little dazed. The burglars had gotten in by forcing the locks on the back window and after we ate some pizza Mike asked what I was going to do about the window. I didn't know. He said, "We have to go to the hardware store and get a bar or something to secure that window."
"I guess so. I don't want to go."
"I don't want to go either. We have to go. Get up."
We went to Home Depot and found something to use for the window. When we got back, I realized that I didn't want to be alone. I didn't exactly ask him to stay, but I didn't insist that he leave. I made it easy for him to stay and he stayed. (No, we didn't have sex. In fact, while we fooled around quite a bit, we never had sex. That was a line he wouldn't cross. "I'm married. We can't do that.")

After that, I saw Mike almost every day for the next three weeks. He called, I called. The next time he came over, he practically moved in. He brought a bag full of stuff: toothbrush, shaving cream, razors, and shampoo. His own set of everything. It was nuts, but I didn't say anything. I didn't actually mind. I felt like I'd known him forever. And for the little time that we were together, I couldn't imagine that it would ever end.

I went away for 5 days to Amsterdam. We missed each other. He came over to turn lights on and off and play with the cat while I was gone, even though he was highly allergic to cats. I called him a couple of times and we sent email. It was sweet.

He took me to his family in Gettysburg for Thanksgiving, though it was probably a mistake. I had no plans for Thanksgiving and I was sad about it. Everyone was going home, my brother in NJ didn't invite me, and I couldn't afford the time for a trip to Seattle to be with my mom. I hinted around about Thanksgiving to Mike, but he thought it was a bad idea. I said, "It would be fine. You know I would like to meet your family."
"I know. And they would like you. But I don't think it's a good idea."
"If you're not comfortable with it, I understand. I'm fine. I'll go to the movies." I was completely sincere. I would have been sad, but it wasn't a huge thing. Late the night before, he called me, "Do you still want to go?"
"What? Go where?" I was half asleep.
"To Gettysburg. For Thanksgiving."
"Sure I do. But, really, I don't need to."
"What are you going to do?"
"Nothing, just be lazy. I'll go to the movies." I'd actually started looking forward to the time alone.
"Don't do that. Come with us."
"I wish you'd told me earlier. I wanted to make a pie. I have all the stuff for a pie."
"You don't need to bring a pie. They have pie. There will be lots of pie. It would be weird if you brought a pie."

I met his mom and stepfather and I got along with everyone really well. The whole darn family was Republican, but I kept my mouth shut, made polite conversation with everyone and I think they liked me. Going to the movies would have been better. I'd forgotten how completely stressful it is meeting someone's family.

He took me shopping--a lot. He took me to Trader Joe's. He took me to Costco and insisted I buy vitamins when he found out I didn't have any. He drove me all around Virginia. He was a little scared of DC, especially after my burglary. I'd invite him out with my friends and he'd say he wouldn't come, but then he would. He never met Princess.

He was burying himself in our relationship to avoid dealing with his divorce. I told him that and he knew it was true. I said we could spend less time together, I could help him find a new job. He said he wanted my help, but he never followed through.

He would fuss at me and tell me not to ask for reassurance. He was a great kisser. He said he wasn't going to be around to have babies with me. It was a crazy, intense connection and absolutely believable, until he backed out.

A week after Thanksgiving he said he wanted to be friends. "I think I should come over so we can talk."
"What is it you want to tell me? Tell me now."
"I can't do this anymore."
"Ok. I think you should come over." He came over and he paced around, words spilling over, thoughts whirring all over the pace like a hummingbird. I said, "It might help you sort things out if you wrote some of your thoughts down."
"I don't know how to do that. Like a diary? What do you write, what do you say?"
"I just write what's on my mind. Usually I only write a lot when there is a guy around."
"So is that journal all about me?"
"Pretty much." I laughed.
"Let me read it."
"No. But I can read some of it to you--if you want an idea of what I write." I read a little, but he couldn't focus.
"Let me read it. I have to read it myself."
"You can't read this one--but, wait, what if you read an old journal? I have tons of them."
I gave him a journal from when I was fifteen. I'd been using it as "source material" for a story I was working on. Mike took it and started to read out loud. He read the whole thing (it was a very small book). "I can't believe you wrote this when you were 15! You were 15? I can't believe it. You sound just the same! It's like a play--you wrote it for an audience. They should be doing this at Arena Stage!" He was excited. I was flattered. It was a good feeling--even though we were breaking up, I felt close to him. I felt like he appreciated me. Like he knew me. (Maybe he did. Who knows?) Of course, that journal was all about boys. My journals always are.

The next-to-last time I saw him was after the break-up. We already had plans for the movies and we kept them. Afterwards we stopped in a bookstore. He asked me to point out pictures of haircuts that would look good on him. He found all these magazines about writing and brought them over to me. "You need these because you're a writer."

I thought about being friends with him. I called him to say I would try and then I didn't hear from him again.

I called once after that, about two weeks later, and we met for dinner the same night. I got him to take me to Home Depot so I could buy some ice melt to use when it snowed. It was a 50 pound bucket and he insisted on carrying it into the house for me. That was the last time I saw him.

I kept some hope after that. That he would resolve the divorce stuff and that I would hear from him. But that was way back in December. I finally gave up. I deleted his numbers from my phone and I've not contacted him since.

Recently, I had an extra ticket to a baseball game and I was having a ridiculously hard time finding someone to go with me. Mike popped into my mind. I almost immediately dismissed the idea of calling him. It was tempting. I wondered if he'd managed to settle things, if he'd moved to California like he'd talked about--if he was happy. But I let it go.