We’re so often working to apply specific categories and labels to every interaction that it betrays a yearning to belong to something. Past our daily lives, we see this in movies, music, and books. My first encounter with this labeling phenomenon was likely Fight Club, where Tyler Durden foolishly comments on how oxygen gets you high (it doesn’t), the Narrator goes on to joke about Single-Serving Friends. I could go on to comment on how this conversation between Tyler and the Narrator is less clever and more blatantly egotistical, as it’s literally the same dude talking to himself in what basically functions as an echo-chamber, but I’ll move on to why the Single-Serving Friends bit is relevant: We need to know what’s going on. Labels help us do that. It’s why there’s a name for everything. It’s why “mansplain” is a word, created to describe a male offering a condescending explanation. Relationships are no different than our incessant need to apply a name to something in the sense that we work to find and apply explanations to why things have happened, where things went wrong, and how we could have done better. “I could have been more supportive” or “he/she turned out to be a giant asshole” and even “it was an abusive relationship”. Categories. Labels.
I’ve lightly touched on some of my relationship experience before (which you can find here), but this is going to be more… intimate.
It’s fitting that my most memorable and oft talked about relationships are the ones where I had no fucking idea what was going on. I use “relationship” lightly (but adamantly) because regardless of whether the circumstances adhered to the conventional boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, it’s what they were. It’s what they’d have to be for all the crap I’m going to tell you about to have even happened. It’s worth noting that what you’ll read here is strictly from my perspective, how I experienced and interpreted everything.
“Sam”
My first girlfriend was in 6th grade. I was an unruly kid throughout school, got in a lot of fights and dealt with detention and suspension regularly. Good grades, though. I was small, had a year-round tan, and my name was funny looking, so there were a bunch of opportunities for me to get in a fight with some jackass kid. In 6th grade, I was in the same class as my cousin Maggie, who’d been dating the same guy for nearly 4 years (6th GRADE??), and she encouraged me to talk to one of her friends. We started passing notes, things like “would you hug me?” and “what’s your favorite color?” with checkboxes (I know) and then we started “going out”. I remember the girl telling me she wanted to “go out” with me in 5th grade but she heard about all the trouble I got in and decided to wait. We split up when she started passing notes with someone else, a kid who could go to the movies and hang out. I distinctly remember talking to her on my grandparents’ home phone and her saying “I really did love you”. It was heartbreaking. I didn’t really date again until 9th grade, which sounds dramatic, but I moved schools a lot between middle school and high school and already had unrealistically fantastical views on love and relationships. Thanks, Disney’s Hercules.
Come freshman year though, I’d meet this girl (We’ll call her Sam) in my English class that’d throw me for a loop. She’s the initial reason I made @ibarfonbabies my username (I talk about that here). Being as I was completely inexperienced with dating and fielding my emotions, I wouldn’t be able to healthily address my growing feelings for this girl for various reasons. Most prominent of these reasons was I had a giant crush on both Sam and her best friend, “Catherine”. This was back when Myspace was in and Top Friends was unreasonably important. This lead into an extremely strange claim Catherine had on me that acted as a longstanding barrier, barring me from moving past friendship with Sam.
Everyone’s been there. You don’t want to muddy a friendship with cumbersome things like romantic feelings. All three of us talked daily, through AIM, Myspace comments, and hours-long phone conversations that I often got in trouble for because free calls weren’t until 7PM. Due to my crush on Catherine, I’d be blindsided by my affection for Sam a year or so later, mainly because my cousin Scotty had gone out of his way to get to know her (he was like that). I was in a strict household and wasn’t allowed to do much until later in high school, and Scotty hung out with Sam on his own, something I was never able to do. The jealousy nearly knocked me over. Sam later moved schools and it would somehow be even harder to ever hang out with her. Initially, it was because I wasn’t allowed to, then because of Catherine, who was jealous if I hung out with Sam without her, and then because Sam was dating some douchebag (I stand by this, as years later he is very much a tool), and so on. Hanging out never really worked out for us those first few years.
Fast-forward a bit and it’s Junior year, I’m not at the same school as Sam or Catherine, but we’d still try to hang out. At this point, I’d weirdly dated Catherine a few times (She’s the Shameful relationship in the article I mentioned earlier) but we tried to maintain a friendship, and Sam was still off-and-on dating the Douchebag. They both came over to hang out one night now that Catherine had a truck and Sam was in town, and it turned into probably the most cliché thing I’ve ever experienced: Truth or Dare. We all ended up making out with each other, but Catherine got angry after Sam and I made out and found an excuse for them to leave. Sam pretended she left something in my room after they’d started leaving, and surprised me with what is probably one of the best kisses I’d ever received. I know, big deal, a kiss at 16. But you must understand, I’d been harboring a crush at a distance since 13 (I started school early). This was different from the Truth or Dare kiss because it was private, just the two of us.
Sam moved nearly 2 hours away shortly after this, and I wouldn’t see her again until after high school. We’d chat every now and again, and it was easier to flirt for both of us because there was no real risk of commitment, with the distance and all. Eventually, I’d drive to meet up with Sam at 18 or 19 in this massive truck that guzzled gas AKA I had no business driving 2 hours to see a girl that only flirted with me in her down time because I was making minimum wage. I spent the whole night there, and didn’t get home until nearly 8AM the next day. She was nervous about having me in the house, since her mom might freak out, so we mainly walked around outside just talking. She lived in the middle of nowhere, and it was these long stretches of roads accompanied with ambient farmland noise and lightning bugs. I smelled like pizza (I delivered pizza and came straight from work) and she smelled like coconuts. I remember she wore this pink hoodie and bragged about not having showered. I don’t remember what we talked about, it felt like everything. I do remember she said, “Oh man, that laugh… you haven’t changed” after I cracked up at what I assume was something stupid. I think I might have loved her here.
My confidence had grown a little by this point. I still had a year-round tan, but I was taller, not quite scrawny, and comfortably went by Alex over AJ. I remember mustering the courage to steal a kiss, and it worked. I remember an adorable giggle, how chilly it was, and how awkward it felt to have sex on the pavement. I do not recommend that last part. We didn’t talk much after this, and I’d come to find out from her, years later, that she was in a weird headspace and had slept with a lot of people at the time. It kind of stole the romance from my memory and made it bittersweet. I recently reconnected with her this past year, and we talked daily for a few months, planned visits, and ultimately circled back to the strange lack of communication we always do. I think part of that is the bitter taste I get when I reminisce.
“Amy”
It’s no secret that you’re going to run into some rough patches in life, especially when dating at a young age. I watch a lot of movies, and as I mentioned previously, they’ve given me a very fantastical view on love and relationships. I’m not foolish enough to think it’s going to be a fairy tale romance and happily ever after, but I’m not cynical enough to think those sorts of outcomes are completely impossible. Depending on how long you’ve known me, you’ve probably heard me reference this next relationship. It’s what I draw the most from to provide insight on relationships and emotions, as it’s opened a lot of doors for me emotionally. I’d dwell on it for a long time, and it took me forever to officially move on from.
I only dated this girl (we’ll call her Amy) for a little under a year, though the “relationship” certainly extends beyond that. It was very touch-and-go after the official split, and would even resurface here and there years later. I started dating Amy towards the end of my Junior year in high school. It was a lucky break, she was totally out of my league. She’s the “serious relationship” in my 24 article, if you happened to read that. I’d seen Amy walking around our high school a few times, and while I don’t exactly remember how I found out her name, we ended up as friends on Facebook. I, with my outrageous charm, decided the best approach would be to like and comment on her Facebook picture. She was wearing a colorful shawl/scarf, I think I asked if it was a tablecloth, because I’m so goddamn clever. I moved the conversation into the messages (I seriously have no idea how any of this worked) and we started talking regularly. She even gave me her phone number shortly after. I remember talking to her early on and thinking “holy shit, she’s incredible” because of this casual confidence she carried always, even though whenever the conversation became too serious, she’d respond with “mmmmcats”, which I assume was a sign to change the subject. At some point, I asked her to hang out, because I was 17 and asking someone on a date was too forward. She said yes and was kind enough to drive to my place. Before she got there, she let me know through text she’d previously promised to go see a friend performing in a high school play (Beauty and the Beast), and I was left thinking “it was worth a shot” while only able to reply with “No worries! There’s always another day!” (my go-to when I think I’ve been rejected but still want to appear calm and relaxed). She’d respond with something along the lines of “I mean, you’re gonna come with me, right?”
I remember the outfit she wore, and how in hindsight I had no idea how it worked for her, but it involved a denim jacket and a graphic T-shirt with matching jeans and cute, brown boots. Somehow no jokes were made about it because she pulled it off so well (A DENIM JACKET). She came over and I drove to the play. I think we only stayed for 30 minutes before she decided it was time to wander the school halls (it was after school hours, around 7PM) At this point in my life, I’m extremely sheltered. I was a bit of a problem child, but ultimately didn’t do anything “against the rules” yet somehow, we ended up breaking into the gym and here’s where, for me, it turned into this crazy, manic pixie dream girl encounter. We played basketball in the dark gym, laughing and joking as we got to know each other. I kept trying to impress her, despite being scared we’d get caught. We made a lot of noise. This is my favorite first date. That lasted a while before we took off to the parking lot in a frantic hurry after someone popped in like “HEY YOU CAN’T BE IN HERE”.
I remember this part vividly. I had grabbed her hand and started running, and she was fine with it. We hid next to lockers and behind trash bins, basically exaggerating our way outside as if we were on the run. When we made it to my car, we were both out of breath, wheezing and laughing. Absolutely nobody had been after us, but the “chase” was exhilarating. I think the “chase” was between the two of us. We held hands that entire time, and that seems silly, but when you’re in this sort of moment, it feels like this spark of magic that you only get once or twice in a lifetime. Somewhere along the line, we began pretending we were married (so silly, so silly) and REALLY needed to make it home to our kids before the babysitter got upset. I remember she oddly complimented my hands. She said “you have nice hands, I like them. I like holding them.” and I laughed, because it was indeed weird, but I liked it. She sounded sincere. On the drive home, we never stopped with the banter, an endless stream of flirting, pretend scenarios, and laughter. The kind of thing you see in a coming-of-age movie, a teenage romance. She had to leave once we got back to my house, and we didn’t kiss. Not that night. But there was a prolonged look, a sort of silent approval between the both of us. I remember that moment. I’ve never gotten that look from anyone else. But to be honest, I’ve never wanted it from anyone but her. A few dates later, I had to go to the hospital for a nose bleed, and she offered to come with me. It was maybe 3 in the morning by the time we left. A vein in my nose had to be chemically burned, as it hadn’t stopped bleeding for nearly 5 hours. Amy made some jokes about how she’d never seen a nostril open as wide as they opened mine to burn the vein. Amy was awesome.
There were a lot of goofy moments between me and Amy, like when I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said, “You’re only asking because I’m naked in your bed.”, to which I responded by covering her up with blankets and asking again. It stayed that way for a while, until just a bit after I graduated high school. She still had one year left to go, and while the summer in between was filled with staying over, road trips, cute kisses and dressing up in Prom clothes to go to McDonald's, at some point it became difficult. I had to move out of my grandparent’s due to heavy conflict, and had finally reconciled with my mom. Amy helped me through this and was very supportive, despite all this personal stuff happening early in the relationship. My grandparents never let me look for a job, and by this point I was 18 and struggling to find one, and was ever-pressured because my girlfriend had a just gotten a job at Best Buy whereas I was only able to find a $5/hour under the table job at a comic book store.
I can be a jealous guy, though I didn’t always know this. There was this guy Amy worked with at Best Buy that she’d tell me about how he’d sort of harass her, flirt with her and whatnot. I knew of this guy because one of my friends was dating him. He was “That Guy”. The one you’re always suspicious of. I tried a few times asking Amy to keep it professional and ask him to stop, and she said she would. I don’t know fully how this all played out, but this was right around the time it seemed like Amy found easier access to drugs and alcohol, (she already had a healthy streak going, and would brag about having started drinking at 13) and it was mainly with new friends at Best Buy. A combination of my jealousy and insecurity, Amy’s new social circle and extracurricular activities, and lack of communication between us that lead to the relationship blowing up. We “took a break”, because that always patches things up, and a few days later we’d get back together.
Fast forward a few months and I’d accompany her to a party, where she’d drink way past her limit and I’d later find out she’d taken pills prior to that. We got into a fight at the party, but she was so out of it that a few friends and I had to coerce her into the car so I could drive her back to my place. I couldn’t take her home because of how often this had been occurring, her dad had threatened to kick her out if she came home wasted. During the drive home, Amy woke up long enough to freak out. She demanded I pull over to let her out, and started punching me when I refused. I sat on top of her, restraining her arms and legs for what felt like a lifetime before she calmed down long enough for me to get her home. I left her in my room to tell my mom what happened. Now I was freaking out, not even remotely prepared to handle what was happening. She tore my room up, and I had to call her dad at three in the morning to come get her. He said nothing and refused to look at me during the entire awkward confrontation. I used to be afraid he thought I was the bad influence. She came back the next morning to get her stuff, and we cried about the whole ordeal after she saw my black eyes and busted lip. She broke down, explaining she lashed out because she felt guilty about hooking up with the guy at Best Buy, the one she told me about, during the “break” we took.
The relationship didn’t last much longer than a few months after that. She kept talking to the guy, kept getting caught. It became a whole thing. We split up, she started dating him, and would call me whenever she was drunk and needed a ride home. We’ve hooked up a few times in the years since, and while I’m not proud of it, it strangely helped me move on. We’re not friends now, not really. I think we follow each other sometimes on social media, depending on how civil we’re being, and she’ll sometimes send me pictures of things I gave her while we were dating. It’s not healthy, and while I’ve tried to patch things up to the point where we can be friends, it can be difficult.
This relationship is a very important part of my life, as it’s influenced my behavior towards the relationships that came after. I lost friends for a variety of reasons, such as rumors about the night she freaked out and my own behavior borne from jealousy. When I think back on certain events, I still harbor some intense bitterness, and Amy has commented on how I need to get over it, since “The past is the past”. This is where I’d realize we were at totally different points in our relationship, and how I’d realize how clueless I was throughout the whole ordeal. Amy was my first experience with being in love with someone, and nothing really helps you understand how to approach that, especially after hindsight shows that while we were dating, we were hardly ever on the same page.
“Abigail”
It’s no joke how easily past experiences can influence your behavior moving forward. After “Amy”, I found it difficult to wholly commit to a labeled relationship for a long while, and this next girl, “Abigail” partly because I love that name, is no different.
I met Abigail twice. She’d been introduced through a mutual friend and she’d also followed me on Twitter around the same time, and I didn’t know she was the same person until shortly after. I ran into her at a local restaurant she worked at, and I’d had a few of these cinnamon drinks (don’t trust cinnamon drinks), I was a little more outspoken than normal. I asked for her number and to a movie, and she agreed to both. We talked regularly for a week or so after that, and she’d let me know she was leaving for basic training in a few months. I didn’t think much of it. At this point, we hadn’t had any confirmed “dates” because people don’t openly use “date”. Because of the whole basic training thing, she was trying to hit a certain weight before leaving, and would go on late night bike rides. I met her one night during one of these. We must have talked for a good few hours, listening to music in the bed of her truck on a sad, static-ridden iPhone 4s speaker. Abigail was kind of forward sometimes, though I didn’t mind. At one point during the night, she kept getting close, and we ended up having our first kiss to “Hold Me Now” by the Thompson Twins. It was like being in an 80s romance.
Moving forward a bit, we were basically dating, though I’d strategically avoided making it “Facebook Official”. Again, she was very forward. Come Christmas time, she made it a point to buy my family a bit more than I was comfortable with. I know, I’m not the one she’s buying the gifts for, but at this point we’d already had a few light arguments about the status of our “Relationship”, and I felt it was a bold move meant to land a firm place in my family. I didn’t kiss her on New Year’s Eve. She took the hint, even though I didn’t mean for that to happen. We had a talk about how fast we were moving and I expressed concerns about her leaving for basic training, because a lot can happen in that amount of time. This was stemming from the last time I took a break with someone (“Amy”) and I was fully paranoid. I liked Abigail a lot more than I was prepared for, and I was worried what we had wouldn’t last through the distance and lack of communication. We backed off a bit around two weeks or so before she left. Stopped hanging out, barely talked.
I’d later find out by accident that before she left for basic training, she slept with this guy my coworker was good friends with. Now, a lot of this is speculation and me piecing together information as best I could. Once Abigail got her phone back before she came back from basic training, we basically picked up where we left off and agreed to get back together. In one of our more intimate conversations, something she said regarding sex didn’t fit right with the timeframe, and tipped me off that she’d been with someone after me and before she left. When I confronted her, it was like pulling teeth. Finally, she confirmed it, and according to my coworker, she and the guy had started dating before she left for basic training. Me being who I am, I felt kind of betrayed. We weren’t Facebook Official, but I felt we had something prominent, and for that to be proverbially tossed aside for a quickie relationship within two weeks, well, I was hurt. I was angry.
When she got back from basic, a few weeks later we’d meet up after not really talking past passing arguments. It was under the guise of trying to “patch things up” so we could be friends, and it turned into this long talk on a bench in this small town full of coffee, hemp sweaters, and hiking trails. She cried about it being a mistake to be with the other guy, and I ate it up because she was choosing me. Later on, while I was at her apartment, the guy called her and she answered, and proceeded to argue with him for almost an hour before agreeing to let him come over to pick something up. I was in a very weird spot and didn’t understand what was happening here because why on earth would this be okay, right? I left while they were still on the phone, she wasn’t happy about that. I don’t exactly know what happened after this, as we only talk sporadically and it’s very strained and forced. I chalk this up to us never having had a legitimate conversation about what we’ve been through, as it’s very difficult for either of us to own up to the shortcomings in the relationship like me not committing initially and her not thinking trying to get back with me while with someone else was a problem.
This relationship, however ridiculous it could be, was important because it was the first time in a few years I’d been able to be alright having feelings for someone since “Amy”. It’s not Abigail’s responsibility to respect this. Though, as it took me a long time to make it this far from Amy, I was bitter about it not working out. Even more so when I remember that through the whole thing, it was a constant grey area. “We weren’t dating” and “You stopped talking to me” despite picking things back up at least three times over the year or so everything happened. So many loopholes and secrets that it’s hard to pinpoint timeframes of legitimate companionship.
When I think about these relationships separately, it still feels like a lot. Putting them on paper and reading them is surreal, as there’s so much that’s happened for each that it’s difficult to be content with the amount of information I’ve provided. Each relationship had their own unique issues, though my personal insecurities absolutely persist through all three.
With “Sam”, I was never particularly confident in my ability, and I basically let her dictate how far things would go, spending more time waiting on her to come to me rather than putting effort into making my feelings known. Each time we’d reconnect, I’d rediscover certain feelings, and while the feelings were less and less prominent with each rediscovery, they were there and I wouldn’t do anything about it.
With “Amy”, I’d leave the relationship and move forward with unreasonable paranoia and insecurity about my self-worth, which would plant seeds of distrust in future relationships. I’d talk myself out of commitment and reinforce my doubts with paranoid overanalyzation and negativity.
Finally, with “Abigail”, my lingering insecurities would prevent me from ever fully committing, likely driving Abigail away. My personal shortcomings would essentially pave the way for the issues I’d encounter in these relationships. A chain reaction.
I like to think I’d handle things better in a relationship today. With the benefit of hindsight and constant introspection, I’m more self-aware of my shortcomings than ever before. That isn’t to say I can’t do better, but I think it’s important to acknowledge where problems I’ve created for myself are coming from. I’m still hard-pressed to file the experiences with these relationships into a specific category, but over time, I’ve come to accept that there are certain things you can’t simplify with a specific label. “Complicated” doesn’t do it justice, and you won’t always get an explanation for why things happened, where things went wrong, or how you could have done better. Sometimes the experience is enough. Maybe “An Experience” is the proper category.
