I went to work. Checked my phone. Nothing.
All of my colleagues took me out to lunch to help try to cheer me up.
I checked my phone. Still. Nothing.
That night, five of my closest friends, including Reagan and Stefani, took me out for a birthday celebration at a themed restaurant called Medieval Times. For those of you who are not lucky enough to have a Medieval Times in your neighborhood, it is literally dinner in a tournament setting. You eat with your hands . . . You drink out of a jar . . . You watch knights battle in the arena . . . And—oh yes—there’s actual jousting, folks. My friends knew it was corny, but that was supposed to be part of the fun. They were hoping that if they went completely silly and over-the-top, I’d forget my heartbreak. They had planned in advance to have the knights give me all of the attention, so the knights presented me with roses, and they crowned me the “goddess of love and beauty.” It was all very sweet, but the whole thing made me feel even more pathetic—especially because there were only about ten other people in the whole place, and so the mood of the entire evening was kind of sad, and lame, and low energy. I found myself just sitting there, despondently staring off into space.
This is what’s happened to my life? Seriously? This is my twenty-fifth birthday, and I’m sitting at Medieval Times with five people, and the knights are giving me a sash? This cannot be real.
But it was. Painfully real.
I commend my friends for trying, even in the midst of my misery. I’m sure I wasn’t exactly good company, and I certainly couldn’t have sat home alone, especially as the night wore on with no word from Tye. I was distraught. And I’m sure I didn’t do much of a job of hiding it from them.
That birthday is kind of what triggered everything that happened afterward, including The Bachelor. I took stock of my life that night. I was now twenty-five. I had a job that I didn’t really care for. I was not even close to dating somebody who I’d be with for the rest of my life. I didn’t have anything in my life that was just for me that I loved. Out of everything on my personal checklist, I had nothing. I felt empty and lonely.
This reality was very hard for me to face. I was coming out of a time in my early twenties when I had had a lot of momentum, and I had thought things would continue to go like that, or get even better, as I got older. I never expected anything like this. At the ripe old age of twenty-five, everything was falling apart.
Before Tye, I had been in a seven-year relationship with my high school sweetheart, Josh. It ended with me getting—you guessed it—dumped, and, even worse, he had cheated on me. But the fact that we had been together that long had made me feel, for a time, like marriage was just an easy step away for me. We broke up just two weeks before our college graduation. And! Here’s the kicker: He was engaged by the time graduation came around (yes . . . in a whopping two weeks). Talk about being devastated. I felt taken advantage of and betrayed. For the seven years before our breakup, I’d had my life planned out, with the person I’d thought I was going to be with . . . and then, it was all pulled out from under me.
After being in a relationship from the age of fifteen, I was totally unaware of how to be an “I.” I had been a “we” for as long as I could remember. But at that point, something inside of me just took over, and I went on autopilot. I graduated college. I moved forty-five minutes away to Dallas, got my own apartment, and found a job. I even saved up enough money to buy my own car. And I did it all by myself. Looking back, I realize that I was being pretty darn independent for a twenty-two-year-old!
When I couldn’t quite shake the low self-esteem I felt in the wake of my breakup from Josh, I had sought out something bigger than me, an adventure, to take my mind off the past and push me into an even better future. That’s when I became a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Because this was something that was a challenge for me, it made me feel as though I had the power to accomplish things and improve my situation in life. I had assumed this would be true forever.
And so, when I was younger, I had gone ahead and mapped it all out. By the time I was twenty-five, I was going to have a six-figure job. I was going to own my own house. I was going to be married and working on having kids. I was going to be so happy.
Instead I was sitting in Medieval Times wearing a cardboard crown and a fake satin sash, holding my wilting roses. Not quite the American Dream that I had imagined for myself.
Tye remained MIA on my birthday. Clearly, he didn’t want to have anything to do with me, and as long as that was the case, I was determined not to see him and let him know how hurt I was by his absence. As much as a part of me really wanted to see him, I continued making sure to stay away from the places where I might run into him. But, it was impossible for me to cut him out of my life completely, as I had done when Josh broke my heart at the end of college, and I left him, my old friends, and the entire city of Denton, Texas, behind. It wasn’t as easy with Tye. We lived five minutes apart, and Dallas was my home now. Our lives were so intertwined; it was hard to avoid him or his friends.
I had managed to avoid seeing Tye for almost a month after we broke up. And then, St. Patty’s Day rolled around. Even though I knew he’d be out on the town with his friends, I figured there would be a million people out in the city that night, and there was no way I’d run into him. As usual, Dallas had closed its downtown streets for its annual parade, which I had gone to with a couple of my girlfriends.
My roommate, Leah, and I had cut the sleeves and midriffs off of our T-shirts, and made them into these little halter tops, which we tied in the back and wore with jeans. When I looked in the mirror before I went out that night, I was feeling pretty cute for the first time in ages, which made me feel better about the possibility of running into Tye. Seeing him was always in the forefront of my mind, when I knew there was a chance (even a slim one!) that we’d cross paths. And then, my mind games would run wild: It’s probably real easy for him, if he doesn’t see me. I mean, he is a very “out of sight, out of mind” kind of guy. But if he runs into me, it will probably stir up all of those intense feelings he had for me and maybe even make him want me again.
And that, of course, was still my secret hope.
After the parade was over, a bunch of us girls went to Primo’s Bar & Grille to grab some food. Ironically, it was where Tye and I had originally met, a year and a half earlier. But, despite my secret desire to see him, I truly felt that there was no way he’d be there that night, given all of the bars in the city, and so I wasn’t expecting a run-in.
Of course, as soon as my girlfriends and I arrived, I looked up, and there he was, standing at the bar, looking cute in his light green T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots (yes, I still remember exactly what he was wearing). I felt like someone had just sucker-punched me in the gut when I saw him. It was that feeling you get when your heart literally drops into your stomach. The usual inner debate started in my head: Do I go say hi to him? Do I not say hi to him? Do I pretend I didn’t see him and wait for him to say hi to me?
And then, we had that moment of completely awkward eye contact from across the room. And, to make things even harder, he was talking to a girl: some cute little blonde. Okay, okay . . . she could have very well been an eighty-year-old granny with a hunchback, but I saw a Playboy model. What stupid mind games we all play! I sat there, frozen, wondering what I should do. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t help myself.
I felt like I had to do something, since I hadn’t seen or heard from him in a month, and I was desperate to know how he was, and how he’d been feeling. I knew this was my one chance to talk to him. So, finally, I walked up to him. As I did, I could feel these big crocodile tears forming in my eyes. I fought them back, thinking, Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked.
But it felt awkward. The tears were so close to the surface, and I was trying so hard to keep them in.
“Hey, how’ve you been?” he asked, nonchalantly, as if I was his buddy. “You doing okay?”
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I paused for a second before I answered, and a huge tear ran down my cheek. “No, I’m not okay,” I said.
He reached out with both of his hands and stroked my arms, just trying to calm me down. Looked me right in the eyes and smiled at me.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
All of a sudden, I was comforted.
Oh my gosh, so he DOES miss me. And he’s going to call me after tonight. And the relationship is going to work out after all. He clearly wouldn’t tell me it would be okay, if it wouldn’t be, right? He definitely wants us to get back together!
Oh, Melissa.
Now, when I look back, I realize that that wasn’t what he was trying to get across at all. What he meant was: You’ll be okay on your own.
I think he just didn’t know what to say, and his way of dealing with the emotional hot mess in front of him was to say that it was going to be okay.
I attempted to smile back at him. We said an awkward goodbye. I walked away and sat down with my friends again, but I kept looking back at him. I couldn’t help it. He went back to talking to the little blonde girl who had been standing next to him the whole time. Their conversation didn’t look particularly romantic, but it still hurt to watch. I kept thinking: I was just up there. I just talked to him, and now he’s talking to HER.
I have no idea who she was—she very well could have been his cousin, but just the SIGHT of him interacting with a female tore me up inside.
My friends and I ended up leaving Primo’s before our food order arrived. I’d thought that I would be okay if I saw Tye and that I’d be able to hide my sadness. But I failed miserably on both counts. And I could no longer deny that Tye was handling the breakup just fine. All of the pain and doubt that I had believed he was feeling existed only in my mind.
Tye was out and about. He was talking to his friends. He was chatting up girls. Meanwhile, I was still totally miserable. And my heartbreak got worse when I had to admit that the reason that Tye hadn’t been in touch was because he didn’t miss me, and NOT because he just didn’t know what to say. And then, I started analyzing everything all over again and feeling like maybe he had wanted to break up with me all along. And I had finally given him an out that night when I exploded on him. I had probably made it very easy for him to move on without even realizing it.
Yes, I was a complete mess.
At the same time, I still couldn’t completely let go of him. While I definitely wasn’t stalking him, I looked for any excuse to have contact with him. I must have been a glutton for punishment. His birthday was in early April, and so I sent him a text wishing him a happy birthday. And then I waited. And waited. And waited.
three
•
BREAKUP PURGATORY
About another month passed. I had survived not hearing from Tye. I had survived seeing Tye. I was just starting to get to the point where, although I wasn’t feeling good, I could at least dress myself, comb my hair, and form complete sentences again. But I swear, it’s like guys are born with some kind of radar, and they can sense just when they’re starting to lose their hold on us and need to reel us back in.
And I felt the full force of that gravitational pull one evening when I was out with my good friend Robin. We were having a great girls’ night out. We went to dinner and had lots of girl talk (that didn’t include boys . . . well, not one particular boy, at least). And we went dancing. At one point in the night, we went into the bathroom together (as girls always do), and while we were primping, I got a text message.
Oh my gosh, it’s from Tye!
It said: “I miss you.”
Short. Sweet. To the point.
I literally collapsed on the floor in the bathroom. I was in complete shock. Robin laughed and took a picture to show me how dumb I looked, lying on the floor with my phone in my hand. We still laugh over that picture today.
But, back to the text message!
Okay, to be completely honest, this wasn’t the FIRST time I had heard from Tye since we broke up. After I texted him to wish him a happy birthday, he had written me back. But all he had said was: “Thanks for remembering.” Romantic, right?
Yeah buddy, that’s not QUITE what I was hoping for, but you’re welcome. I GUESS.
But this note was different. HE MISSED ME! And it was completely unprompted on my part! This was what I had been hoping and praying for! But to be honest, by this point (three months since the breakup), I was actually doing semi-okay. I wasn’t completely consumed by my heartbreak anymore, and I had stopped expecting to hear from him.
Needless to say, I was beyond happy! Of course, after what Tye had put me through, I should have known better than to get sucked back in. But, immediately, I was a goner. AGAIN. I sent him a text back telling him that I missed him, too. And he wrote me back and asked me to stop by his house. How could I not?
He actually WANTS to see me? And HE’S initiating it? Of course I will!
So . . . I went over. It was the first time I’d seen him since St. Patty’s Day. When I got to his house, we played music from his iPod and sang and danced with each other all night. It was as if we’d picked up right where we had left off. No awkwardness. No mention of a breakup. Just good old-fashioned fun. I left his house with a huge smile on my face. And that still remains one of the best nights that he and I have ever shared.
After that initial text from him, we were in contact pretty regularly. Tye knew I really wanted to see the first Sex and the City movie, which had just been released. He asked me if I wanted to go see it with him that Friday night. I knew we weren’t together at this point, but CLEARLY this was HUGE progress!!
It was his idea.
He had actually planned a real date. IN ADVANCE.
We NEVER went on dates, even when we were together. This was a new development, and I immediately thought: See, he DOES want me back. He totally missed me! He IS really trying. He is a good guy.
Now, I had already seen the movie with my girlfriends, but, of course, I didn’t tell him that. I did not want anything to get in the way of this date. And nothing was going to keep me from being happy while we were on it. I made sure to make a big deal about how excited I was and how much I appreciated everything he was doing.
Not that it was all perfect. While we were out that night, we saw one of the girls I had cheered with the year before. We went over to talk with her, and when I introduced her to Tye, I didn’t know what to call him. I wanted to introduce him as my boyfriend, but I didn’t want to scare him off. So I decided to play it cool. Cool and very casual.
“This is my friend Tye,” I said.
Neither of them noticed that anything was out of the ordinary, and we got through the awkward moment. But, internally, I was overanalyzing the situation, wondering if Tye had noticed that I had just used the word friend, and if so, what he’d thought about it, if anything.
Other than that, it was just so great being with Tye again. We laughed and talked and did what we did best: pretended as if the last few months had never happened. He didn’t want to bring it up, and I didn’t want to bring it up, and so we avoided talking about anything emotional or real. Just like before, communication was a big problem for us. During that whole time, we lived our lives with so many important issues on the back burner. But, as we learned, back burner or front burner, it still burns.
Neither of us was ready to deal with anything even remotely serious or upsetting. So we acted as though everything was fine. We acted like a couple, even. Tye drove me home and kissed me good night. I was in heaven.
I made sure to let him know how happy I was, and that I really liked being out with him, and really appreciated that he had asked me out and taken me on this great date. In my heart, everything was falling back into place, and I believed we were going to get back together and be really happy. And we were happy.
For a day or two—maybe even a week.
We fell into a pattern. We would have a great first date, maybe even a second date, and t
hen engage in a flurry of texts—some silly and pointless, and others that made me believe that things were going to be okay between us. For instance, one text that I received from him while I was at work made me think that we had a future. We had been flirting via email and text all day long. He was teasing me about how much dinner I had eaten the night before (I’ve always been a big eater). And then, BAM! I got a text that took me aback: “Can you imagine how much you’re going to eat when you’re pregnant?”
Well, it’s no secret how a girl’s mind works. As far as I was concerned, he was thinking about me being pregnant, which meant he was thinking about me being pregnant with his baby!! Right?!? I was beyond happy. I was ecstatic!
And then, after a few days of fun flirting, the texts from him always stopped . . . just like that. After a weekend of great dates, on Monday, I’d get nothing . . . again. My heart would break all over again. On Tuesday, I knew I wasn’t going to hear from him. It was the same thing on Wednesday and Thursday. Time lengths varied, but it was always between a week and three weeks of silence from him.
Then I’d get a text—“What’s going on?”—which would lead to another amazing date.
And so it went. I see the cycle now, but I was just living in the moment and hanging on to any little source of hope he gave me.
I quickly learned: This is our reality. This is how we work. I don’t have a boyfriend. He doesn’t have a girlfriend. We just hang out sometimes.
It wasn’t at all what I wanted. But I never said anything about how frustrated I was for fear of running him off again. If I had been stronger at that time, I would have said, “Tye, you need to make up your mind. You either want to be with me, or you don’t want to be with me, but you can’t keep doing this push and pull. It’s not fair.”
The worst part was, not only did I not stand up for myself, but I also let him get my hopes up every time. Just when I got used to having him back in my life, he would disappear again. For the next six months, our relationship followed this destructive pattern, and I never stopped it or even tried to learn from it. That’s not 100 percent true, actually. If I were to be completely honest with myself, I’d have to admit that, deep down, a part of me knew what was going on. But I lied to myself and pretended that I was just playing it cool, and that we were both fine with keeping it light. Right . . .
My Reality Page 4