GHOST OF BOYFRIEND PAST
By Rachel Arnold

My epiphany, it sounds almost as catchy as "My Sharona" but with a lot more meaning. And if you remember that song, you can roughly guess how old I am.

My epiphany occurred one night while I was walking down a rather ordinary street. The street is more like a boulevard, or expressway, with three lanes of traffic going in each direction. I doubt my epiphany would have come to me in some beautiful, pastoral setting. I doubt it would have occurred had I been looking for it, for an answer to a question that has plagued me for nearly two years. No, the nature of an epiphany is that is sneaks up on you. It comes at you when you least expect it. It occurs sometimes years later, long after you thought you could have any revelations about a particular event.

I have been living with a ghost for the past two years and for the life of me I haven't been able to figure out why he is haunting me. My ghost is an ex-boyfriend and even though I am recently married, he still comes to me, mostly in dreams, but even that is more than I have wanted. There is nothing like waking up beside your new husband and realizing you just dreamt about a guy that dumped you two years prior and to top it off the dream is usually something about that guy wanting you back, or having to choose between the ex-boyfriend and your husband. Talk about messing with one's head.

Jay and I went out for nearly three years. We had a rocky relationship. There were quite a few small break-ups. Most usually lasted never more than a week or so and we always talked each day, even when we were supposed to be apart, but the break-ups were mostly due to me. You see, when Jay and I met I did not want a boyfriend. I was in my "I am woman hear me roar" phase. I was finally getting on my own two feet and letting go of past abusive relationships and I did not want a man to get in the way of my progress. Nor was I sure I could sustain a relationship.

Jay was nice. He was the first nice guy that I had really let into my life. We quickly became best friends and talked every day. We discussed New Yorker articles, we went to the movies, had late lunches and generally had a nice time together. We had a lot in common and that was a first for me. Our families even liked each other. We often spent the holidays together. On paper, it all seemed a good fit.

But me being who I was, I wasn't quite at that level of domestic bliss. I had a severe fear of commitment. I had avoided most men like him because I didn't want to get close and then lose them. I'll spare you the detailed analysis and reams of binder paper that my therapist has written down about my fear of commitment. Let's just say it was a driving force in my life and I kept thinking it would be better if I was not with anyone while I unraveled my personal history of romantic failures.

But Jay walked into my life and he was persistent. And we persisted in being together despite my issues and my running off. He was patient up to a point. Up to the point where we weren't really having sex. Let's just say I was intermittent. I could never decide if it was my way of protecting myself or I just wasn't that attracted to him.

For Jay it didn't matter what the reason was, it was just hurtful. And I always felt bad that I couldn't be there for him in that way. I wanted so desperately to make it work. I had convinced myself he was the one, and that we would get married. I figured I could get my emotional baggage together and ship it off somewhere. The problem was I could never fit it all in one suitcase. But what I didn't count on was including his issues.

While I was busy flogging myself for what a bad girlfriend I was, it never occurred to me he might have contributed something to our relationship. Or at least it didn't occur to me until we went to see a counselor together. In the brief time we went to couples therapy, I finally saw that maybe we were the classic example of the square peg and round hole. We were two nice people who seemed good on paper, but we couldn't make our emotional selves fit.

By then I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain and that was the straw the broke the camels back, well it was the thing that pushed Jay over the edge. I thought I had it in me to see the relationship through, but I was felled under the weight of all his needs and he did have them. And I was barely able to push through the door of my own place without a barrel of relationship issues bowling me down.

I just hadn't counted on him actually breaking up with me. I knew I started the process it but he ran with it; like a quarterback who sees a clear path to the end zone. Jay ran with it and that was that. He was gone from my life in one fell swoop. And let me tell you I begged and pleaded to get him back. I was devastated: I stopped eating (which did have one perk in that I was super thin), I couldn't sleep, I cried for days on end, think Diane Keaton in "Something's Gotta Give". I know you are thinking, hey you didn't really want this guy, but I did. Well I wanted the package, the family, the movie dates, the best friend, but I didn't want some of his baggage: his depressive manner, his inability to communicate, his lack of empathy.

I spent the next year rebounding from one guy to the next. I dreamt that Jay would take me back. I called him, I emailed him, I made a fool of myself. All the while knowing that somehow it wasn't really right with us, it wasn't really right for me, but I couldn't let it go.

A year and a half later I met someone new and within 6 months we got married, but the crazy thing was that I was still dreaming about him. It was disturbing. I would dream that I was choosing between Jay and my husband or Jay wanted me back or any number of other combinations that included him.

I would tell my therapist about it and she would assure me it was symbolic. But of what I wondered and why now? I thought of him daily. I almost text messaged him one night when I was drunk. But luckily I was too drunk to get his number right but not drunk enough that I wasn't cognizant that it would have been a big, big mistake. Someone really needs to put a block on people's cell phones when they have had too much to drink. Maybe there should be some sort of breathelizer that can be detected when you put your mouth up the phone thus automatically blocking all ability to call out or text message. Can you imagine how many embarrassing moments would be stopped? How many one night stands intercepted?

So on an ordinary Thursday night after seeing a movie with his sister, yes we remained friends, I told her about how Jay kept showing up in my dreams. I assured her I wasn't still in love with him, but that I knew it was somehow symbolic which she readily agreed.

When she and I parted ways I randomly decided to walk the eight or so blocks to the bus stop. I found myself wondering why I was even walking down this street as normally I would choose a less busy, a less ugly route but I felt compelled to walk.

And then it hit me, my epiphany. I wasn't in love with Jay anymore. I didn't want him back, but I was haunted by my role in the relationship. I was haunted by the fact that he was the first man in my life who had really loved me and whom I really loved and yet I had played a hand in hurting him, quite deeply. I have a deep aversion to hurting anyone's feelings. I know it is unavoidable at times, but it feels awful when you do. And when it happens, when you really hurt someone there is nothing you can do. There is no taking it back, no amount of apologizing can change it, only time can.

And here I am again, with another man whom I am at risk of hurting as well. But this time I am more clear on the dance that two people make. I have stopped the self-flagellation, but I think Jay has served as a reminder that love is a fragile thing between two people. And that no matter how hard I try, I won't ever be perfect and I can't always avoid hurting someone I love, no matter how hard I try.