Sam

Even though Sam and I went to the same high school, we didn’t become friends until after we were both long graduated. Sam was friends with Greg (not super close, but friends nonetheless) and they started a silly little band together called “The Broken Strings” due to Greg’s constant sting-breaking while playing guitar. Sam also played guitar and was best known for being a singer in a different local band, but with Greg he was the drummer. The two of them with a third friend, Brandon on bass. More on Brandon later.

Sam had a confidence Greg didn’t have. Sam was interesting. He talked about things like energy, the stars, and the universe. He listened to bands like Pink Floyd and Aphex Twin. Did I mention he was the lead singer in a pretty well-known local band? Hot.

Sam also worked at a job he hated. He had no intentions of going to college. He was also rather small-town-minded.

But Sam came on really strong when we first met. He was very interested in me and therefore was very intense with his interactions with me. It was a lot. And anyway, I was still with Greg when Sam started all of this.

On day, I came home from work to find Greg and Sam in my house, chatting away with my mom in the kitchen. My mom invited them both to stay to for dinner, and that dinner was the strangest meal ever with my parents at the heads of the table, Sam and Greg sitting next to each other directly across from me. Oy vey.

After Greg and I finally broke up, I sought out Sam. If he still liked me, I was finally ready to give him a chance. By this time, Sam had moved out of his parents’ house and into a small rental with Brandon. My best friend, Laura, started dating Brandon and I got more serious with Sam; the four of us were playing house, or playing “Friends” the TV show, or playing something that resembled what we thought real life was supposed to be. The house was falling apart, cold, moldy, and infested with fruit flies, but it was a little piece of heaven for the four of us early twenty-somethings.

I was still in college, I believe this was now my 2nd year of university, so I was traveling up and back to visit Sam nearly every weekend. Sam came down to see me a few times as well, but because of his lack of gas money and his band gigging almost every weekend, it made more sense for me to be the one who traveled.

We had very intense sex. Full of passion and emotion. Sam used to like to light a yankee candle and put music on to be intimate. I used to love that about him. It felt like he was being romantic. I now see these actions as him putting on a show about being romantic.

Sam also used to really like to drink and do hallucinogens. As someone who doesn’t love drinking, and who really doesn’t like tripping, I always had a difficult time understanding why he loved these things so much. I remember arguments between us on a random Tuesday or Wednesday night about why he had to have a huge glass of whiskey when it was just us and we were not partying. Or if he and I went to a party at a friend’s house, Sam would eat mushrooms or do LSD without telling me, and then I would have to follow him around all night to clean up his messes and apologize to people on his behalf. That was something I didn’t like about him.

Sam was always dealing with drama with his ex-girlfriends as well. He had one particular ex that seemed to never understand that they had broken up. She was always hanging around, dressed to impress, flirting with my Sam. Sam refused to tell her to go away in any sort of final manner, I thought because he felt badly for her. Now, looking back, they were probably still sleeping together throughout our relationship. I hated her inside, but I tolerated her at every show, every party, and every group gathering.

I should mention that by the time Sam and I officially got together, he was not as sure about me or his feelings as he had been when I was unavailable. As I was falling more and more in love with him everyday, he kept me at arm’s length, even refusing to allow me to tell any of our friends that we were officially dating (even though all of our friends knew we were together anyway). He was always going on about his “personal freedom” and “keeping his options open.” It was hurtful, but I figured that if there was nothing tying him to me officially and he yet he continued to come back to me, that was better than staying out of promise or obligation. So I went with it. I went with it for a long, long time.

Sam and I dated to varying degrees of seriousness from the middle of my 2nd year of college until the year after I graduated.

When I graduated, Sam moved into my parents’ house with me. When I took a temporary job in Boston, Sam stayed in my parents’ house. When my parents moved down south, my dad shook Sam’s hand and told him to take care of me. Sam was discussing our future and his feelings with my mom on his own time. I really thought Sam was the man I was going to marry. I loved him so deeply.

One day, I came home from work expecting Sam and I to have a quiet night in with a bottle of wine and a movie. Sitting on the edge of our bed, taking off his shoes, Sam nonchalantly revealed that he had slept with his ex’s best friend the previous week. I was shocked. Shocked, hurt, confused, angry, devastated, heartbroken… And Sam was clearly shocked and confused by my reactions to his disclosure. True, we had never discussed switching from a “casual” thing to a “serious” thing in the three years we were together. I had, incorrectly, assumed that living together and three years of choosing each other meant that we were serious. My bad.

I distinctly remember saying to him “If you can’t promise you won’t sleep with anyone else, we can’t be together.” With tears in his eyes he told me he just could not make that promise to me. I broke up with him in that moment and walked him out both of us choking back tears. As he stood in my doorway, I told him that I hoped that his sleeping with that girl and his obsession with his options was worth all of this heartbreak; he said it wasn’t. Then he left.

I cried for weeks. I was crushed. I immediately got into bed and didn’t get out of the bed for three days. Laura came to my house and stayed in the bed with me while I crocheted and cried intermittently.

Unfortunately, I never felt like my time with Sam was closed. I think when it ended, even though I ended it, I wasn’t ready for it to end and I wasn’t ready for him to throw away what we had for hypothetical options he may or may not have had in the future. I thought that was we had between us was special enough that faced with an ultimatum, he would chose me. It was basic. We loved each other. I was wrong.

I have not given another ultimatum to anyone else ever since.

Do you know where Sam is today? He’s married to that girl he slept with all those years ago and they have two kids.