O No You Didn't

I would like to redirect your attention to a blog entry from a couple weeks ago - the one that dealt with the idea of "if it's not one thing it's two of another". Here's a perfect example. So Hercules is really great. He's smart, funny, successful, sweet, attractive and goal-oriented. He's NOT an alcoholic. He doesn't sell Australian meat pies for a living. And I highly doubt that he would throw a hissy fit if I asked him to go to a play.

But wait, did I mention that he's moving to Phoenix?

O, Rachel, what to do. The bomb dropped Friday evening after a great evening of sushi and conversation. We were getting snuggly on the couch watching the world's worst movie (next to "Glitter" and "Gigli", of course), "Constantine", when the words "I need to talk to you about something" shattered the good times.

Before he could speak, a number of thoughts flew through my head: he's married, he has herpes, he's a transexual, he likes to wear women's panties, he has four illegitimate children, the worries were endless. Luckily, without giving me much time to my imagination he launched into what I see now as an incredibly honest and mature conversation but one that, unfortunately, deflated my "potential". He's moving to Phoenix. I literally heard the needle scratch the record.

Now, apparently, I'm supposed to take this as a good thing. He said over and over that this wasn't "an excuse" but he wanted to give me all the information so that I can make decisions regarding "us" knowing the situation. My friends say it was "mature" and "respectful" and "proof that communication in men exists". But all I could hear was: Hercules is saying peace out to not only me, but the whole CITY on our third date. Wowsers.

Ok, so I listened to him a little more and turned off the "exaggeration" chip in my brain (temporarily). Bottom line is, the timeline is vague but the ultimate decision is made - that is where he wants to be in the long-run. He wants the house with the pool and the yard and not a condo on PCH.

I didn't really respond to him at first. I told him I was "processing". But to be honest, I was, for one of the first times in a very long time, speechless. (I hear those of you who know me gasp.) Perhaps I'm not used to men who openly and maturely communicate. Maybe I'm not used to a man whose desires in life extend beyond next Saturday's BBQ at Hooters. Perhaps I'm not used to a man with his own set of goals.

When I look at that, I think that maybe the conversation was a good thing, like people are telling me. But I can't help it. I am actually thoroughly and completely confused. And my reaction probably wasn't stellar either.

I managed to squeak out something about how there are two schools of thought when it comes to situations like this. One (my school), is that we take everything in stride, maintain open and honest communication and cross the phantom bridge when we get to it. The second (his school) is you lay everything on the table before the relationship really gets going and make a decision to pursue or not to pursue. Free-spirited vs. methodical (marketing vs. lawyer - our occupations). There's no right or wrong, per se, but dang it, I've met my match. Then I muttered something like, "Figures."

A man has left me speechless and confused - all for the sake of communication.

O NO YOU DIDN'T.

Unfortunately, I will have to remain confused (definitely not speechless) for the remainder of the week as he is out of town for work until Saturday. In the meantime, I will be sure to scratch my head, obsess and over-analyze the situation. And here I thought communication was supposed to make things easier! Pfffft.