stories

i have to tell this story, before it fades away. i am so proud, and learning that it's not just myself i am proud of, but him as well.
for two eclectic and bizarre people such as us who typically call a romp at the bar, a live music show, or a roadtrip a romantic date, i found it thrilling that we were going to do "dinner and a movie." i got all gussied up, and we headed out the door. because it was, even more typically, a saturday night, he was going to run to the theater and buy the tickets while i got our spot at the restaurant down the street. romantic hollywood streetcorner kiss and all that nonsense and i headed into the restaurant.
imagine my surprise when i ran into C, a friend from the past, accompanied by J, someone i'd had a tremendous crush on about 12 years ago (though looking at J today, i can't see even a twinkle of what i saw then...). hugs, good-to-see-you's, and so forth, were exchanged.
"big party tonight," said C, gesturing toward a table that held about 20 people. i could see C's wife looking my way with faint recognition. "everybody's here, R's here." 
"oh, really? cool," i said, as i followed the waiter toward my table. "well i'll talk to you guys soon!"
R is my ex-boyfriend, and one of my least favorites, although his apologies for his behavior and shared mutual friends have kept us from being enemies. but my boyfriend knows about him, and i doubt that he would want to meet him on our date night. plus, in that friend group was another person i had dated, and he was probably there as well. this was going to make a wonderful night turn into absolute hell if i didn't do something about it, and quickly.
so i called up my boyfriend while casually flipping through the menu. i kept my voice cheerful, almost as though i was using my reassure-the-anxious-customer voice. 
"hey, so i just got here, and there's a big party here with some people from my past. i'm not sure if you feel comfortable with that?"
"what do you mean, like ex-boyfriends?" he asked.
"that's what i was told," i said. "but i don't know. do you still want to eat here?"
"well, what do you think?" he asked. 
at any other time prior to my realization that the success of our relationship depended on BOTH of us changing our behaviors, i would have heard this statement and gotten defensive. i would have responded with anger and frustration that he would be upset with me for having a past, and blaming me for situations beyond my control. yet, for whatever reason, this time i didn't hear what he said in such a tone. perhaps because he didn't say it that way, or perhaps because i was more understanding of his feelings, or perhaps both, or more.
"i don't know," i said again simply. "what do you want to do?" the waiter was bringing two waters to the table.
"i want to eat somewhere else."
"ok."
i looked up at the waiter and smiled apologetically, phone against ear. "i'm sorry, i went to the wrong restaurant!" and, boy, you have no idea! it looked totally believable. i even bought my story. 
to me, my excuse was hilarious, the inside joke that it was. it helped to keep me in good spirits, and i felt zero frustration with the situation. really, tonight was about us, my love and i, and i could catch up with these friends later, if i felt the need.
i sat down at the table in another restaurant just down the street, and my boyfriend arrived moments afterward. i looked into his face, and he wasn't angry. he wasn't triggered, upset, or distant. probably he felt a little unsettled by the whole situation, and we were both a little bummed that we had had to pick a place with less atmosphere, but i was so happy for us that the night was saved!
i had revealed only minimal information regarding the situation. i hadn't lied to him, but i realized what the triggers were, and i didn't squeeze them. i could have said that R was there, i could have told him that J was there, but my contact with J was so minimal, and i didn't even see R, so why go into details about it when it would only hurt my loved one? before i would have thought that, well, he should be able to handle it, so fuck him if he can't, i didn't do anything wrong. but the truth is, he can't handle it. and because i love him, i see no reason in blaming him for lacking this ability.
in the past, the more i pushed for him to be able to "handle it," the more resistant he became. he has even told me himself that he thinks he shouldn't feel the way that he does, but he does. that he believes he shouldn't have these feelings must only make him feel terrible about himself when he does, and when i reinforce that with my own opinion, it's no wonder that he begins to direct his rage toward me. it's not to say that his cruel words are ok, but at least i can see why they are coming out, and now i have new material to help me to prevent them, and to handle such situations with more sympathy.
being with such an emotionally intense and sometimes volatile person is my choice. it's very difficult, and i often wonder how i got myself into such a crazy situation. but i know that if it turns out to be something i can no longer handle, i can leave, and that it is ok to allow myself to want to keep trying right now. and so, in knowing that at the moment leaving is NOT an option, i have come to the conclusion that what i am doing to better the relationship is a result of my own decisions, and therefore i cannot continue to blame my boyfriend for what i may consider to be his shortcomings. oh, i can be pissed at him, i can get frustrated, i can get sad or angry or depressed, but these feelings are my own. they are a result of my experience in a situation that i have chosen for myself, a situation that is, yes, full of such difficult emotions, but also full of elation and love and power and pleasure and happiness, feelings which outweigh those which are more difficult.
little miracles are happening. little changes are taking place that have started to add up enough to where i can see them, to where i can see changes happening for the better. the other night, when he was so upset that he was going to sleep on the couch and pee in the waterbottle so he didn't have to go into the bedroom where i was sleeping to get to the toilet, was a pretty enraging experience for me. and for him, too, i imagine. i almost gave up and let him sleep out there, but it hurt. so i let myself express my anger, but i must have done it without blame, the indication being that he listened and didn't recoil like he usually did before. i got to let out my frustration, and that felt good, and, lo and behold, after he let out his  (with only a couple of hurtful words from him, small enough for me to handle and rebut), we actually worked through our bad space and got back into a good one. even when morning came, which in the past would renew his negativity, we were still on loving terms. i was thrilled, and i told him so. i told him that i thought we had performed a relationship miracle that night.
this shit is actually working!