Friday, February 09, 2007


This is the point where I start to confess my infidelities in my marriage. Not your run-of-the-mill affairs, but rather affairs of the heart. I preface all of this by saying that I believe in the power of crushes -- I really do -- but Andy was a little different. And I own my part in the demise of my marriage.

Okay - some background. Law school. This would take forever to fully explain, but suffice to say, I always knew I was headed to law school eventually. Knew that as a pre-teen. When I met B, however, I had just moved to the States (had been here three years) and was just a kid (21 when I met him). Granted, I had spent three years in TX, but that was as much a foreign country as any place I had lived. I was about a year and a half away from graduating college when I finally left TX and came to where I belonged. I was in TX for all the wrong reasons, but that is a post for another time.

So yeah. Came to WA in the summer of '91. Moved in with real dad. Bad fight with stepdad ensued. Met B in the spring of '92 at UW. I'll tell that story another time, but I was enchanted by him. We were living together (again, age 21) by the fall (never planned on that, but I was housesitting and he just came and never left). He had started a business a few weeks before we went on our first date, and by the third or fourth date, I was his partner. We just fit.

I'll skip over the next few years, as they aren't relevant to this post, but we started another successful business and had a lot of adventures together. Thing is, they weren't really my adventures -- I was just along for the ride and game for anything. I stopped going to college full time and threw myself into these adventures and I don't regret a day of it. I learned so much - I call it my real-world MBA. But about 1997 (we married in '94), I realized I wanted something of my own again and not to be B's supporting player.

Long story - I ended up finally graduating (which is funny, as I graduated high school in three years but took nearly 9 to get my degree). I studied and prepared my ass off and I got a really high LSAT score -- enough to get me into almost anywhere. Except I was vain and didn't want a reject notice -- to this day, I regret not applying to a few schools. I applied to a ton of schools, even though we were firmly grounded in Seattle. I am a nomad at heart, I think, plus I knew I probably needed to get away from B to have my own identity.

I accepted a full ride to ND (I wanted to go to Georgetown, but that was vetoed as too far away, as was NYU, plus B is Irish and loved the idea of me at ND), and although there was early talk of B coaching soccer at ND, he got a position at his current company. For whatever reason, it didn't seem weird to me for us to be apart for this. We were always nonconventional and we could do this.

Looking back, I needed to get away. I wasn't cut out for a supporting role and wanted something that I alone could accomplish and be proud of.

Holy fuck - so long and not even to Andy.

So in law school, I was happily married chick who wasn't looking to date but still fun to hang out with. Most of my best friends from law school are men, as a result, as the women friends were suspicious and jealous of those relationships. School B (again, another post) was my best friend -- we became close the day we really met. There was great chemistry between us, but sort of a "never-the-twain-shall-meet" chemistry. I kept hearing about this guy named Andy who was "hysterical," "awesome," "smart," "irreverant." We were in different sections in law school and had never met.

Cue to post-first-semester-law-school-exams. We finally met and I would be lying if I didn't admit I had a total crush on him before I met him. And then I met him. Oh dear lord, was he my type. Twinkling eyes, great smile, great personality, completely confident -- we were doomed. Within minutes of us meeting, we had our arms wrapped around each other (friendly) and were flirting and laughing like you wouldn't believe. It was a blast - we had a great connection. Both of our respective friend groups saw it and were worried someone would get hurt, most likely Andy. His friends dragged him away from me and so did mine (School B - again, a story for another time). I left that night not knowing where he was, but being ushered into a cab.

Turns out, Andy was pretty bummed to learn I was happily married chick and left the bar on foot. This was IN in December and ice was everywhere. He had been drinking and was a little down on himself and ended up slipping and breaking his nose. I was deemed the cause of his injury.

(I went home that x-mas and B and I took our first trip to the courthouse, ostensibly to file divorce or separation papers. We chickened out and decided we could weather anything)

Came back to ND and his friends had built a fortress around him. No contact with me whatsoever. I spent that second semester at an arm's length from him, until ST. Patty's Day. Big occasion at an Irish Catholic school. We both went to a party and eventually, were back in the same position. Laughing, talking politics, talking sports -- it was again very bad. Our friends again removed us from one another, but we kept sneaking back. Chemistry is a wild thing.

We ended up sneaking out of the back together, laughing how everyone had such impure thoughts about us. Then we walked to his place and ended up watching a tape of him on the Congressional floor (yes, these things are interesting to me). At one point he became rather emotional and told me that I had to leave. I obliged, ashamed, and he grabbed me and kissed me.

I won't lie. It was a great kiss.

But Andy then felt really conflicted (also? Andy? lone Jewish guy at ND), as, of course, did I. This was beyond a flirtation -- this was toe curling chemistry. We lived close to each other and I needed to clear my head, so I said I would walk home. Andy is nothing if not a gentleman and kept saying "the cab is coming." I needed to walk.

When I got home, there was a message on my machine. "Am utterly crazy about you and can't be. I can't see you anymore."

I have a few more stories about Andy in the next year, but that was pretty much it. The saddest day I can remember was the day I left ND. He saw me packing my books and came up to me, cupped my face, and said "you were the one." I felt very much the same way, except he loved IN and I hate the midwest. He ended up marrying the girl he told me he could never love as he loved me. I haven't spoken to him since the day he held my face in his hands and said that.

All this came to light, as a friend needed an attorney in Indy. I looked him up and he isn't listed right now. I have to hope that he is on some Democrat's campaign. He will, MARK MY WORDS, be the governor of Indiana some day.

Timing is everything, and Andy and I didn't have timing. Still adore him, though

Wednesday, February 07, 2007


So I am so very tired of speaking about my divorce and all that, but I want to write this out so I remember it.

Yes. B has new girlfriend and new life. As do I. Life is moving the fuck on. Good times.

He called me yesterday (N.B. - this blog entry took me two days to compile, so this was Tuesday) to "update me" on all things B. I laughed, made a few remarks about how I am not interested in his life. Such is divorce. Not his wife, friend, attorney or lover. Don't care. We shared a few joking moments about my need to know everything and some remnants of our former life. Is awkward -- this whole thing. But at the end, I was feeling cool about where I am. Not angry, not bitter, just not wanting to be involved. It isn't my role anymore. I was content and I thought I made the point. Not your best friend. Not your attorney. Not your touchstone. Not your lover. Talk to your girlfriend about this shit. I don't care.

Next day (yesterday), I am totally under the bus at work and am about to start an at least two hour conference call with a very demanding client. B calls and says "do you have a minute? I need to ask you a question." I said "you have five minutes -- go." He said "no, I need more than five minutes, call me later." We go back and forth with me asking him to just tell me what the hell it is, but he won't budge. I get off the phone wondering WTF is the latest drama. Divorce related? Is he going to fuck with my hearing date? WTF?

Conference call has an abrupt end half an hour later and I get a phone call from J (his employee), who opens the call with "have you spoken to B?" Oh shit - this is bigger and worse than I thought. I said "no, he wouldn't tell me what was up -- WTF is up?" J tells me that B absolutely lost it at work - unleashed on his CFO. Unleashed has a different meaning here - when B loses his shit, all bets are off. He said some incredibly actionable things to his CFO (a woman), including cunt, "glad you never had kids," etc. Really bad. Is a cunt's hair away from losing his job, quite frankly.

Q. Why is this my problem?
A. It isn't, except I always rescue B.

Inevitable phone call with B ensues, wherein he relates his most recent act of self-destruction. I lay into him about how I am not his problem-solver anymore, these are inevitable consequences of being an asshole, blah blah. I finally said "B, what is your gut instinct to solve this problem?" His answer? "to call you."

Holy fuck. I have a decision to make. Tell him to man up and solve it himself or do what I believed at the time was the right thing - solve the fucking problem. So I said some unkind things about how I shouldn't be doing this shit, but gave him the right advice and solution to solve the problem (hint: it involves an unqualified apology to the CFO and a lot of humility). I am brutal in my advice but very specific in its application and he says "okay, I am going to do exactly what you said. I know I don't deserve this conversation, K, and you are an amazing person to do this."

No shit, Sherlock. I unleash a few more barbs, then tell him to get it done.

So here we are today -- big day where he has to somehow undo what he did, following my advice. As he is utterly wont to do, he followed it but put his own stupid, idiotic twists on it that changed it from a solution to a band aid, but the man is still employed.

You probably are expecting the paragraph about the conversation where he thanks me, yet again, for saving his ass. Except it didn't happen. Heard nothing today from him. Only from J, who told me what happened.

They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. I did the same thing I did throughout our marriage, expecting that he would be grateful and appreciative and at least say thank you.

That, my few loyal readers, means I am insane.