I don’t mean to knock a legitimate mental illness, but Greg had the relationship equivalent of bi-polar disorder.
Which was thoughtfully triggered right as my friend Sarah was moving her CAT into his apartment. (Um. Hiss.)
The thing about that, though, was Greg had INSISTED that Mr. Biggles move into his apartment. It was HIS idea.
He had proposed this by saying, “I know you miss him like crazy because you’re here every night.”
It was true. Sarah barely saw Mr. Biggles anymore.
Sarah and Greg had dated for a year and were so infatuated with one another that they overcame workplace taboo (he was her boss), an age difference, and they each broke it off with other people so they could be together.
While there wasn’t a specific conversation about living together, Greg had been dropping hints for a while, and proposing her CAT move in was pretty bold.
Now she really didn’t have a reason to go back to her place.
She already had clothes and things in drawers at his apartment.
Bathroom products. TAMPONS.
One night, they even stayed up late talking logistics about how much she could rent out her house for if she moved in with him.
So, by all accounts, Greg’s right brain was saying, GREEN MEANS GO!!!! LET’S MOVE IN!!!
He was totally driving the train on this one.
But his left brain woke up two weeks later and decided that he didn’t want to live together anymore.
No, in fact, it was quite the opposite.
“I actually only want to date you on the weekends,” he said matter-of-factly.
ONLY on weekends!!!
Sarah was completely confused. Within weeks he goes from full-on co-habitation to a glorified booty call??
WHY ASK HER TO MOVE IN HER CAT???
Now what was going to happen to Mr. Biggles?
She told him to F off and waited a few days before she started coming over to get her things from his apartment.
Yet, every time she’d go over there he would tell her not to take her things – BABE, NO, PUT THE BIKE DOWN – and insist she stay and he’d cook dinner and she’d sleep over, violating his “weekends only” policy.
The (several) dinners and sleepovers were good short-term band-aids and made Sarah feel better, but after a while, the situation began to wear her down.
Like, what are we?? What aren’t we?
Why did you act like you liked me so much and push me to move in and then say nevermind? And then sort of take THAT back since we’re spending every night together again??
Sarah had to call the question.
“Either we be together like we were, or nothing at all,” Sarah said.
“You know what your PROBLEM is?” Greg said. “You always knew when to come around, but you never knew when to leave.”
(I guess the same goes for Mr. Biggles.)