Why we ask Why

So I did it again.

I talked to my ex for almost four hours last night.

I have no idea why I sometimes feel compelled to talk to him but I do. I think it is because I hate feeling like there is "bad blood" between me and someone else. I think it is because I am the polar opposite of someone who burns bridges in human relationships...I want to ensure that all of the architecture of my relationships is intact. I don't like feeling like someone out there is angry at me or disappointed in me. I don't like unanswered questions. I don't like having to ask, "Why?"

I wasn't always like this. In my teens through my mid-twenties I was one of the most destructive people you could wish to avoid. No, I was never cruel and I never set out to do bad things, but when they happened I would walk away with the buildings burning in the background and a trail of blood following behind.

I was ruled by a philosophy that said, "If this is good, then THAT has to be better!"

I applied that philosophy liberally to both people and things.

It worked wonders for me professionally, as I was always compelling myself to go for things that most people said were "impossible" to achieve at my age, being my gender, etc.

With human beings, however, it didn't work quite as well. Jobs don't have feelings, but people do.

I have always been good with friendships, but intimate relationships have been the problem.

Throughout my twenties I was the source of continual pain for my ex-boyfriend after another one of my little "dalliances" was discovered. I put him through hell. I never had multiple affairs but the couple that I did tore him apart. He couldn't understand why I was seeking outside of what was otherwise a very amazing relationship and good friendship.

We were together for the better part of eight years and, thank God, he is still one of my best friends in the world today. But he couldn't stop asking me "why" and that's what brought the house down in the end.

I have come to realize that an infidelity is like a splinter. You know it's there and you can still function with it because it is not crippling but when you start paying attention to it, then it starts getting worse. It itches and burns, you try to dig it out and it gets lodged in further, until you have created a mortal wound in an attempt to only get out a splinter.

"Why? Patti, why?" Ed would ask, night after night.

I couldn't explain. To this day I am not sure if I can honestly offer a good answer.

Finally, he left. He couldn't ignore the splinter anymore even though I was long past trying to inflict any more damage on the relationship.

"Karma is going to catch up to you and kick your ass," he told me.

He was right.

Within two months I got involved in what very well may be termed, "The most disastrous relationship of my life."

It sent me reeling into a depression that lasted, on and off, for two years.

When I got clear of that mess I declared a "dry season." No more men for at least six months.

Then I got back together with a former boyfriend who, to this day, I swear is gay.

Obviously, that didn't work out too well and I tried again to not get involved with anyone of the male species for three months, realizing that six was unrealistic.

After making that grand declaration, I got assigned to work with the U.S. Marine Corps for three months and spend eight hours a day around perfectly fit and handsome men in uniform.

"Why, God, why?!!!" I kept asking.

My mother, of course, found this all quite amusing.

"You are being tested, Patti. You and your grand statements. But hang in there, the Universe is just having a laugh at you. After all the crap you pulled with your ex-boyfriends over the years, this is your penance," she said.

Ha ha. Very funny.

Amazingly, with a near snag of almost getting involved with a married Marine, I managed to pass that test.

I was triumphant.

"See?!!!" I said to my mother, "See how I did that? Karma is satisfied now. NOW I can have a normal relationship and my debt for all the pain I have caused is paid."

"Maybe," she said, "but I don't think so."

Cynic.

So then I met Scott.

If someone could have held up a bigger warning sign that said, "DO NOT GO HERE!!!" than all of my family and friends held up to me, I don't know who that person is.

"So tell me about him," my mother said, "HONESTLY, no romantic bullshit, please."

Married, but getting divorced. Two grown children. Army. History of infidelity. Handsome. Incredibly smart.

"Are you completely out of your mind?!! Have you lost every last shred of sanity? Now you are not testing karma, you are just being an asshole," she said.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I know you don't use drugs but have you suddenly started smoking crack or shooting heroin? What the hell are you thinking, girl?" my Marine friend J, screamed at me.

"Patti, please don't do this. Please. I know this scenario. I know how it is going to turn out. I did this very same thing and I can promise you that it doesn't turn out well," my best friend, Connie, said to me.

Kay, a former Army police woman, was even more forceful, "I am NOT letting you do this. You know better. You know this cannot turn out any way but completely screwed up. I know these guys...I was one of them. I absolutely forbid you doing this. Don't you dare..."

Well, I didn't listen to anybody.

And it turned out just as badly as everyone predicted. Maybe even worse.

So when I see Scott online sometimes, I can't help myself.

Honestly, he really is a good guy. He is all the wonderful things I thought about him but he is also all of the fucked up things everyone warned me about. I knew that going into it and could never fully commit, so it is no wonder our relationship got on like two neighboring houses on fire. But I still can't get over the fact that he cheated on me and had an entire other relationship going on while he was still telling me, "I love you, you're my soul mate."

That's why I ask "why."

"Why?" I asked again last night.

Obviously, these conversations never turn out well.

But, like a baby with wet fingers crawling towards an open light socket, I go right back at it when I see him online.

My friend Liz is constantly amazed. She is the polar opposite of me. She is grounded, slightly cold, and able to shred people apart and not feel the slightest twinge of emotion. She's an amazing lawyer for that reason, but she treats people and things the way I used to.

I called her this morning to admit what I had done...like an addict who smoked a forbidden cigarette or a diabetic who snuck a piece of double-chocolate cake.

"Oh Jesus, not again, Patti?!" she said, "Really? Again?"

"I just want to know 'why?'" I said.

"Why WHAT? What do you want to know?" she demanded.

Before I could even start, she said, "Listen to me and don't say a word, OK? He left you for a suicidal tax accountant, OK?"

She continued:

"For me, I would be laughing my ass off if this happened. What did you tell me about the laws of karma? It doesn't just work for you that way, my dear, it works for everyone that way. For now, just picture them sharing a calculator together and get over it. It's not in your hands any longer."

"But I just hate feeling like there is someone out there who is upset with me. I hate being upset with someone out there to the point that it creeps up and annoys me every few days...it's like a splinter," I protested.

There was silence on the other end of the phone until I heard a loud WHAP.

"What the hell was that?" I asked Liz.

"I just killed a ladybug that was crawling on my wall in the hotel room, it was getting on my nerves," she said.

"Ladybugs are good luck, Liz, just like praying mantises, you're not supposed to kill them," I scolded.

"Oh well, I guess, according to your karmic rules, I will be coming back as a ladybug," she joked.

Since Liz clearly had no sympathy for my plight, I called Monique, my French friend.

"Yes, I asked 'why' too for about four months and then I decided to drink his entire expensive wine cellar and get a dog that attacks him every time he comes in the house," she said, upon hearing my tale.

"I don't want revenge, Monique, I just want to understand," I said.

"If I were you, I would just say, 'thank you,' and enjoy the rest of your time here," she said.

"Who am I thanking?" I asked.

"God, the Universe, whoever you pray to. I know you are spiritual so that's what I would do if I were you. It didn't work, you don't need to understand 'why' but you do need to thank God for making sure you didn't get involved in something that was going to take you off your path. This relationship was taking you off your path. So say 'thank you' and let it go," she advised.

"How did you get that information?" I asked.

"I don't know, I just felt compelled to say it to you. I don't know where it came from," she admitted.

"Now, come over and let's drink champagne all day and make bread. I just got a new bread machine from France and I am dying to test it out," she said.

"I hate champagne, Monique," I reminded her, "Plus I have a date tonight with Eric, I don't want to be drunk."

"Ah, right. I forgot. OK, then I am coming over to your house. Just tie that stupid goat of yours up. Last time she ate the hem off of my skirt!" Monique said.

"Tomorrow we can make bread and drink wine all day," I said, "Not today."

"Tomorrow the sky might fall down and the yeast will not rise...stop being so American, I am coming over now," she said.

I was about to ask "why?" but then shut my mouth.