Setting the Record Straight

One problem with my blog is that I write how I am feeling in the moment, which is not always indicative of truth. The summer I started this, I was mad at Jon. Angry. A deep, defiant anger. Undeserved anger. My journal, while it includes the wrath in the middle, paints a very different picture before and after of him, of our relationship, and of our fight. It will surprise no one, I think, that I behaved badly. So, I am here to set the record straight and to apologize, twenty years too late. 

Jon was a friend for nearly a year and a half before I ever suspected anything more than playful flirting between us. He was Ted's roommate, played on the ward softball team, sang with Kevin. Always up for anything, he was fun and adventurous, but also gallant and kind. He gave compliments and opened doors. A true Texas gentleman. Jon cuddled with anyone any time, famously whether he knew their names or not. So he was safe, in a way. Safe to flirt with. 

When I returned to Provo in late summer before my Sophomore year, I began to notice some differences, some interest on my part, and maybe on his. Definitely flirting. In my journal I said things like, "Jon amazed me today," and when my dad went to the mental hospital, I listed among others Jon as a wonderful support.

On August 17th, I wrote, "My relationship with him is so odd. We almost always have tickle wars and wrestling matches, in which I always come off worse, but then we'll stop mid tickle and just lay in one another's arms, playing with each other's hair. If he were interested in me, this would be the perfect relationship, but he's not. And if he were, I'd be bad for him."

At the start of fall semester, he and Ted moved south of campus, which I viewed as a pity. "We could have been great friends." To my surprise, he started to come visit me. He said he was homesick, and I really enjoyed seeing him. He was fun and uncomplicated. I really never thought he had any romantic feelings for me, despite the assumptions and teasing of roommates and Bryan.

New Year's Eve changed things. "It may as well have been called a date," I wrote. I cuddled with Jon for nigh on nine hours: first, watching Sandlot at Julie's; then while watching Napoleon Dynamite at Ted's; then watching fireworks in the snow; then on Eureka until 3 a.m. with my head in his lap while he played with my hair, my ears, my eyelids, and eventually my lips. "Suddenly, it wasn't 'just Jon' anymore." My insides melted and my knees got shaky. 

You'd think then that I would have known how he felt. But I sure didn't. My journal entries are full of  things like, "I still wish I knew how Jon feels." That said, I didn't know how I felt. We had definite chemistry, but I wasn't ready for anything serious. I loved Bryan and was being pursued by Joe and others. It was all very confusing. 

To Jon's credit, he persisted. He called and took me on dates with regularity. He continued to be fun, flirty, and flattering.  "It's strange being nervous around Jon." 

"Jon likes me for sure, and I am worried that I am leading him on. I like him, I'm having fun, and I want to stay friends, but I'm not interested in anything serious right now. I just don't feel as strongly about Jon as he does about me, not saying I never could. Until then, I enjoy the fact that he smells my hair." 

The second week in March, he took me on a picnic. We watched the clouds, tickled and cuddled, and I fell asleep on his shoulder. "I knew he wanted to kiss me, but as he would nuzzle his face toward mine, I would present my cheek and not kiss him. I'm not ready to kiss Jon." I knew he hadn't kissed anyone before, wanting to wait for love. And, while I liked him, I didn't love him. I feared he would regret it if he kissed me.

When Kevin and I got back together, I ended things with Jon. "I went to talk to Jon. It was easier than I foresaw. Jon is such a good guy. He told me he hoped Kevin and I work out."

I really had nothing bad to say about him. 

About a month later, he returned to our group, right before Kevin dumped me. Two nights later, because I am a horrible person, I went to Jon's with Julie. No, I did not know where the night would go. I simply intended to flirt and feel better about myself, to have an evening where I didn't cry.

Jon offered to teach me stick shift, and the lessons turned into a drive up the canyon, which turned into watching the stars, which turned into cuddling on a bridge under the huge full moon. I did say, when he wanted to kiss me, that I didn't think it was a good idea. "Who cares about good ideas," he replied. 

I did not try to rebound. That's why I tried to stop him. But I did think, naively, that we could just pick up where we left off, like Kevin had never happened. I tried to slow things down, but I couldn't always think straight around Jon. We had a lot of chemistry, and he was persistent.

I wrote, "I just got out of a cold relationship... So now I am dating a very affectionate guy who wants me enough to be dumped by me and come back, who has been my friend for over a year and a half, who tries for me. I like him."

Jon was a really good boyfriend. He surprised me spontaneously after work and planned dates in advance. He gave me flowers and compliments and danced with me in the kitchen. A really great guy. His persistence and attention, however, began to feel claustrophobic after a few weeks. I wrote that I needed me time, roommate time, and even guy friend time. When I said as much to Jon, he understood, "graciously giving me time without him."

When I broke up with him a couple weeks after that, I wrote, "He took it very well, as gracious as ever. I wish I had answers for him, and don't. He treated me like a princess and would be the safest guy in the world to love." But I didn't love him.

Even then I had nothing bad to say about him. 

I know the line, 'it's not you, it's me,' is super cliché; but it was me. I had a lot of things I needed to process, and I hadn't done so. I never dealt with my feelings about Kevin dumping me. I was trying to fix what I'd done wrong by rebounding so fast and hard. I was scared of vulnerability and emotional openness. Jon treated me well, and I didn't deserve him. I had to leave, so I didn't get left. 

I had just been put on academic probation, my parents were dumping their emotional baggage on me, and I was questioning everything in my life. Everything.

A week later, Jon invited my whole apartment to his for dinner. I worried it would be awkward, but I was pleased that he was attempting to remain friends, that he gave me space without drama. If he had kept on that way, I can almost guarantee I would have gone back to him. I couldn't help myself when I was with him. But not then. I wasn't ready.  

The whole saga of Jon reading my blog is only too well documented in earlier entries. Some of his accusations had merit, but I was defensive and thus focused only on what he did wrong, turning my shame into anger. His persistence, which before had been most admirable, got my hackles raised. He backed me into a corner, and I felt more feral than ever. I lashed out.

On August 1, I confronted him. I called him "scum" on my blog, but in my journal, I wrote, "I was angry and cold the whole time. That is me at my absolute worst. I am too articulate and absolute and completely uninhibited verbally. Emotionally, I am constipated. I alienate people and make them feel small." I was ashamed.

I didn't spend time with him again for three years. 

Jon and I saw each other at Ted's house, unsurprisingly, at the beginning of August 2008. I didn't even write the events that led to us hiking together at night to watch the meteor shower, staying out until 3:30 in the morning. A couple weeks later, I needed to sell plasma, but was too afraid to go alone. When Emilie couldn't accompany me, I called Jon. We began to sell plasma together on a semi-regular basis. 

Again, I had nothing but good to say about him.

Ted, on the other hand, I had plenty to complain of. I wrote that his teasing was unquenchable. I finally had to threaten to stop being friends before he relented. 

Emilie, too, was curious, and asked if I was still attracted to Jon. Yes, I told her. But I worked very hard to restrain myself near Jon, knowing how badly I had treated him before, and worrying that I might mess things up again. I wished I knew how he felt, if he'd forgiven me, if he wanted something more. But I never tried to broach the subject. And, I think we can all agree I am rubbish at reading people. He probably felt only friendship for me and, likely, a little trepidation. 

Nothing came of our interactions that fall. We hung out as friends, and then I graduated and moved away. I was very glad that we ended it on a good note. 

I know I can't ever tell him that I'm sorry for how I treated him. Again, there are things that just can't be said twenty years after the fact, one married friend to another. It would not be appropriate. Still, I can set the record straight here, and offer an apology that he will never read. 

I am sorry, both for how I behaved to him and for what I wrote about him. Jon was a great guy. He always treated me well and he didn't deserve what I gave back. I did care for him, and I regretted that I ruined it. I am glad he was gracious enough to become my friend again. I am glad he is happy with someone who loves him. That is what he deserves.