86. Spring Break Up

Breaking up was probably the best decision we could have made. After that, we were all over each other. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Our relationship was better. The sex was better. There had been something wrong with our relationship the whole time we were official. Turns out, it was the title. It felt forced. I wanted to call him my boyfriend so it would justify me losing my virginity to him. He wanted to call me his girlfriend because he’d been wanting to for the past two and a half years. Those were the wrong reasons.

Every spring and fall in college I attended a convention for college journalists with a handful of my coworkers. Every fall it was in a different city, but every spring it was in NYC. I was dying to get back there after the amazing summer I’d had doing my previous internship. This time, I wanted to take Will with me. He’s from small-town Oklahoma, so I couldn’t wait to see his reaction to a city like NYC. It would be like nothing he’d experienced before.

A week before our flight, I received an email from the editor I worked with at my NYC internship.

Hey Whitney!
Any chance you’ll be in NYC during your spring break? I just started at a new magazine, and it’s sort of top-secret right now. It hasn’t been launched and doesn’t even have a name yet, but would you want to come intern for us during your spring break?

Did I want to intern at a top-secret start-up magazine? Hell yes I did! I hated that that meant Will would have to do some exploring on his own while I was at work, but in my opinion, that’s the best way to see the city.

We decided to stay in a hostel, because that was the only way we could afford to go. I’d stayed in NYC hostels before, but this one was definitely the strangest. It was called Candy Hostel, and it looked like a demented playhouse. There were lollipop lights on the walls and trippy light patterns on the ground.



It was literally a room with a bed and a shared bathroom down the hall. But that was all we needed. It’s times like these when you start to understand childhood rhymes like “Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don’t’ let the bed bugs bite.”



We dropped off our bags and headed to Times Square. Anyone who’s ever lived in NYC knows to avoid Times Square like the plague. But I needed Will to see it. I needed to see his face light up brighter than any Times Square billboard. And that’s exactly what happened. We came up from the subway station and his adorable little-boy face filed with awe, excitement, astonishment. We ordered street vendor hot dogs and finished the night with a brownie from Roxies.

The next morning, I went to work, and Will went exploring.



We were able to make an appearance at the journalism conference as well. But as usual any visit to NYC, time flew. We visited Columbia because Will had won a grant for grad school, and that was one of the schools that accepted it. We walked around the campus, wondering what it would be like to go to school there.




We also made it to Central Park, because you can’t go to NYC and not take a moment to relax at the park. There’s just something about seeing towering buildings behind the sprawling lawn and layer of trees.



We had sex in our cramped, dirty, hostel bed. Probably the same place hundreds of other people had had sex before we’d gotten there. And I wasn’t too sure when the sheets had been washed last. But when in NYC, you have to learn to expect filth, and rock it.

35. Secrets, sleepovers, and potential heartbreak

Cayden was planning a trip to NYC in October with his roommate Drew.
"But maybe I could take a few extra days off to come see you in Texas," Cayden said to me when we were talking on Facebook chat.
I thought about what it would be like to see him again. I thought about the night of the base running and felt my cheeks grow hot. I thought about that connection we had at the bar, on my roof, in my bed. It was something I didn't have with Brady or Addam. With Brady, it was like we were best friends until right when we got under the covers. The sex was fun. When we were done, we rolled over and went to sleep, back to best friends. It was actually quite perfect. The only thing that could make it more perfect was if he bought a new set of sheets because for some reason his had a gaping hole in the middle near the bottom. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night with my feet twisted and tangled in the fitted sheet and I'd kick my legs, not caring if I dead-legged Brady in his sleep, until I freed myself of the death trap. Then I'd consider punching him for not buying new sheets.
With Addam the sex was incredible, but it only happened three times. He'd cuddle me afterward, and when I'd roll over to go to sleep he'd always keep one hand or one foot on me. I loved it. He could be so affectionate when he wanted to be. I'd never cared about anyone the way I cared about Addam, so sex with him was like nothing I'd had before. But we still didn't connect the way Cayden and I did. I could talk to Cayden about anything, but with Addam there were rules. He was a very private, very guarded person, so there was a list of things I wasn't allowed to tell my friends and family about him, the main one being that we met online. I didn't exactly want to broadcast that to the world either, but I didn't mind if my closest friends and family knew the truth.
Here's a prime example:
One night we were sleeping at his place, and he woke me up in the middle of the night.
"What??" I don't take well to being woken up.
"You're snoring so loud!" he said, while cracking up. Yeah, I admit it, if I have a stuffy nose, I snore. I'm only human.
"I was not! Leave me alone." Not only had he woken me up, but now he was laughing at me and accusing me of snoring like an old man?
He was still laughing.
"Babe, don't be mad. It's funny!"
"No, it's not! Snoring is NOT cute."
He put his hand on my back as I turned away from him.
"Babe, not everything you do has to be cute."
"Go to sleep."
The next morning he was still cracking up about it, mostly because I'd gotten so mad at him.
"Oh man, Whitney, it was so funny! I might have to go apologize to my neighbors! I bet the people in Haiti thought round two was coming!"
Oh yeah, he got a real kick out of it.
Later that day I met my parents for lunch at my favorite Chinese restaurant.
"How's Addam?" My mom asked.
"Oh, he got a real kick out of my snoring last night."
My parents cracked up as I told them the story. Apparently it wasn't only funny to Addam. Later a Haiti Aftershock news alert was on TV and my dad said, "Whitney! Come look! Look what you did!" He cracked up. I just shook my head, thinking "Men."
That night I told Addam how hard my dad laughed.
"What!? You told your parents about that?"
"Calm down. What's your problem?"
"They know you slept over here?"
He was pissed.
"Um, yeah. I'm 24 years old and you're 26. We're not little kids, you know."
"Oh my god, I can never look your dad in the eye again."
"Oh get over yourself! I didn't say, 'Hey dad, Addam rocked my world last night.' You're being ridiculous."
He was in a bad mood the rest of the night. Every 30 minutes he'd chime in with, "I can't believe you told your parents."
-----
The more Cayden and I talked about him coming in October, the more excited we both got.
He was shocked at how cheap Texas is compared to London. He started sending me links to giant houses in Texas, 5 bedroom houses with sprawling pools for $500,000. He'd send the link and say, "Look how cheap that is!" Cheap? Half a million dollars was NOT cheap, but if he thought so, I didn't want to burst his bubble. He had his little British heart set on moving to New York City once he finished his MBA, but every once in a while he'd send me links to business consulting jobs in Texas, saying, "Look how perfect this job is. This is exactly what I want!" He started talking about how he could move to a different city, maybe one in Texas, and use that as a stepping stone to get to NYC. He loved everything about New York. He'd been there twice and decided it was the greatest city in the world. I begged to differ. Sure, there were things about it that I loved, but give me a car, sunshine, and a swimming pool, and I'm happy.
Thinking about seeing Cayden again helped me get Addam off my mind. When I'd be driving around town, I'd picture him in the passenger seat, his eyes peeled on the landscape as he tried to take in Texas. He'd send me links of the skyline of the city I lived in, and he'd say, "It's not New York, but it doesn't look too bad in this picture!"
In the back of my head, I kept telling myself not to get my hopes up, because he'd probably bail anyway.

16. Q and A

Cayden's birthday was just weeks away. I had to give up on the half-serious thought of surprising him. Right now I had to focus on where I was going to be living and what I what I was going to be doing. Deep down I knew Cayden wanted the best for me, but part of me felt like Cayden was hoping I'd stay in NYC. He loved NYC, thought it was the greatest city in the world. If Cayden and I were going to work out, NYC was our best bet. But this job was too tempting.
I flew down to Texas for an interview. It was Labor Day weekend, and Cayden's birthday was a week away. I sent him the first season of Arrested Development on DVD, because we always used to talk about TV shows and movies we liked. I think Arrested Development is one of the greatest shows ever. I also made him a card with a poem inside. I always wrote birthday poems for my closest friends, which he knew about. Here's the one I wrote for Cayden:

I’m well known for my birthday poems,
I think I’ve mentioned that before.
So hang on to this because when I’m famous
this poem will be worth much more.

I thought about writing you a cheesy poem,
about how I think about you all the time.
But that just sounded creepy
and I don’t think I could make it rhyme.

So then I thought about a smart-ass poem.
Because that’s something I would do.
Make fun of how you say the word “rubbish”
And how you spell the word "favorite" with a “U.”

But since it’s your birthday, I should try to be nice.
Try not to make fun of your fears.
But then I picture you running from a tiny spider,
And I laugh ‘til I’m nearly in tears.

I can picture you screaming when you see a snake,
Running as if you thought it had rabies.
I’d call you a woman for being such a wimp,
But women aren’t afraid of babies.

Oh, I forgot, I was supposed to be nice.
Excuse me for being so rude.
I’m writing this from my desk, so I should be working,
But frankly I’m not in the mood.

I’d rather be cozy and warm in my bed
Snuggled, my cheek on your chest.
Listening to your heartbeat, your steady breathing,
Right now that would be the best.

I honestly thought about flying to London
T\to surprise you at your big birthday bash.
But then I decided that you’d think I was crazy,
Oh, and I was a little low on cash.

I’m dying to hear your accent right now,
But on the phone we have no luck.
So get your ass over to the US or Texas
Where you get much more bang for your buck.

I know there’s a reason I wrote this poem,
But right now I can’t remember.
Oh yeah, Happy Birthday! I hope it’s the best!
And I’ll see you in December :)


As you've learned from this poem, Cayden is deathly afraid of snakes, spiders, and babies. We had shitty luck talking on the phone. Signal was weak or we'd get disconnected.
I went to the post office to send the card/poem, and it would be there in 10-14 days.
I finished my editing test and then flew down to Texas during Labor Day weekend to meet with the editors personally. My parents picked me up from the airport and took me to Hooters for lunch before the interview. I loved Hooters wings. Mom was more than thrilled at the thought that I might be coming back to Texas than I was. After lunch they dropped me off at the magazine office for the interview while they waited in the car.
The elevator opened on the third floor and I was overwhelmed with a sense of nervousness as I walked to the office. I immediately regretted my outfit. I was wearing a dress that looked denim on the bottom, sleeveless and black on top, with black shiny leggins and black high-heeled booties with a black cardigan. It was too New York. I looked pretentious, but just steps away from the door, I knew it was too late to do anything about it.
I opened the door and stepped into the office.
"Hi, I'm here to see Hal Warner."
I was ushered into the conference room with the executive editor, Hal, and two other male editors. They drilled me on why I wanted to work there and then we talked about New York. All three of them had ties to New York in one way or another. That's when I realized I was sitting in the chair with one leg tucked under my butt, my arm slung over the arm chair, completely unprofessional. What was I doing??
After the interviewed, they introduced me to the two other people on staff and then led me to the kitchen, where they showed me the liquor cabinet.
Hmm, only one other girl in the office, and a refrigerator full of beer? This I could get used to.
An hour later I was down in the parking lot, hopping into my parents' car.
"Well?? How'd it go???"
I said I thought it went well, but we'd just have to wait and see. On the way home, the editorial director, Ray, called me. He worked remotely, so I didn't get to meet him in the interview.
"So, why did you major in journalism?" he asked.
"Well, I knew I wanted to work for a magazine, so journalism sounded like the best bet."
"Well, usually if I see that someone majored in journalism, I throw their resume in the trash. So consider yourself lucky."
"Really? Can I ask why?"
"You can't learn journalism in a classroom. So if you majored in journalism, that just tells me you spent the past four years learning nothing."
He had a point. I didn't really feel like I'd learned much of anything in my journalism classes. Everything I learned about journalism I learned through the student media at my college where I was an editor.
"But I've seen that you've done internships, so I won't count you out."
Through my college years I'd interned at The Sporting News magazine in St. Louis, the Oklahoma Gazette in Oklahoma City, and Every Day with Rachael Ray in New York City.
We talked about the position, and why I'd want to move back to Texas (I never planned on moving to NYC in the first place, my family was in Texas, it was close to my college town). We talked the whole way home, until I got back to my parents' house. I thought the interview went well, but he was hard to gauge.
My parents loved that they could hear my end of the interview. When I finally hung up, they were more excited than I was at the thought that I might get the job.
Twenty minutes after I got to my parents' house, the editorial director called back.
"Hello?"
"Hey Whitney, this is Ray again."
"Long time no talk."
"Well, I didn't want to make you wait all weekend, and I can't make this official yet because it has to go through HR, but consider this your verbal offer."
My mom was at my side. I scribbled the words "verbal offer" on a notepad on the counter.
Mom started jumping up and down.

15. Accepted

"Look what that bitch did to my back!"
I looked up from unpacking my suitcase to see a 20-something-year-old girl come flying into the apartment, throw her purse onto the couch, and turn her back to Cole, lifting her shirt all the way up to her bra strap. I poked my head out the door to see if I could catch a glance. I wanted to know what the bitch did (not that I knew who the bitch was, or who this girl was in my new living room).
I saw a shiny red scrape, about 4 inches long and an inch or two wide, stretching across the right side of the middle of her back.
"What happened??" Cole asked as he bent down for a closer look.
"Well, I was in the middle of hooking up with John when his girlfriend busts in! She freaked out, pushed me off the loft, and knocked John out cold! I had to hide in the bathroom while she tried to bash the door in. That bitch is crazy!"
She noticed me standing in the doorway, an eager look on my face, waiting to hear more.
"Oh, hi." She said.
Cole laughed and said, "Whitney, this is Maleah, your new roommate. Maleah, meet Whitney."
"Oh, hey!" Maleah said. A big smile spread across her face.
Damn. She was gorgeous. I didn't want a gorgeous roommate (unless it happened to be male, and Maleah was definitely NOT male.) She was Puerto Rican, thin, tan, and had a funky style I knew I'd never be able to pull off. I wanted to hate her.
It was a three bedroom apartment, and I started to wonder about the third roommate. Would it be another beautiful girl I probably wouldn't get along with?
I got my answer later that night. I came home from a trip to Kmart for some necessities, and I heard the shower running. I assumed it was Maleah because Cole had already headed a few doors down to his new apartment. I was hanging my shoe rack on my door when I saw movement in the living room. I swung my door open and saw a startled half naked man standing in the living room. He was only wearing a towel, and his smooth, muscular body had that fresh-out-of-the-shower glisten. I wanted to reach out and touch him. His dark brown hair was cut close, and his big brown eyes looked at me in complete confusion.
"You must be my third roommate," I said, stepping into the living room and holding my hand out to him.
"Oh, so you're in Cole's room? I'm Tristan." I was surprised to hear such a thick French accent come out of his mouth. He let go of his towel to shake my hand. I tried to use mind powers to make the towel drop to the floor. No such luck.
As he walked into his room I snuck a glance at his backside. The towel was stretched tight against his perfect ass. Life was good.
Maleah and I became instant best friends. We spent our Saturday nights clubbing at NYC hot spots and our Sundays recovering over brunch and nine cups of coffee each at Wai or Yaffa Cafe. She introduced me to all of her friends, and everyone accepted me without a second thought.

I don't think Tristan liked to wear clothes, because nine times out of 10 he was only in a towel. Not that I'm complaining.
Two weeks after I moved in, we acquired a third roommate. The day he moved in he asked if I could do his makeup and if he could borrow my heels.
There was nothing like NYC. Was I really ready to leave it for a better job in Texas?

12. Positions

He picked the dates. December 3-13. He was going to come see me for a full ten days. At the same time, I was toying with the idea of flying to London to surprise him for his birthday. His birthday is September 11th, and mine is the 28th. I knew he was having a big party for his birthday that weekend. So Every once in a while I'd take a break from work to look up flights. One day in August I found a flight to London on his birthday weekend for only $432. I almost hit "purchase," but then I had these thoughts: What if he had a girl up there, and she'd be at his party? Or what if he was going to have an ex there? Or what if he thought I was out of my freaking mind for showing up at his door uninvited. That last one is the real reason I didn't click "purchase." Well, that and the fact that Suzanne and Mac tried to convince me that I'd end up in a body bag or something. Just pessimists. Cayden was about to book his flight to NYC for that December trip when I got an interesting email in my inbox.

"Hey Whitney,
Any chance you're still interested in that assistant editor position? A position just opened up, and I know I told you I'd keep you in mind! Let me know right away if you're interested."

It was from an editor at a magazine in Texas. I had applied for the position last November, during a bout of homesickness. My family is in Texas, and I couldn't stand that I was missing birthdays and holidays because I couldn't afford to fly home. Back in November I did two phone interviews, critiqued the magazine, and completed an edit test. It came down to me and one other person. They offered it to the other person because she was local. Or at least that's what he told me. I was more than bummed, because I fell in love with the magazine. It was fun, witty, everything my current health magazine wasn't. There weren't many magazines in Texas, much less many good magazines, so I really had my heart set on it. I recovered from that rejection and got comfortable in NYC. But now this?
I thought about the pros. Aside from the fact that it's a more entertaining magazine, it's also near home. It's in a city with MUCH cheaper cost of living, so I could actually afford to travel if I wanted to. I'd be 3 hours from my brother, who was away at college. I'd be 3 hours from my younger sister, 30 minutes from my older sister, and 45 minutes from my parents. A lot of my college friends moved to that area. I've always wanted to love my job, and I think I'd love it there.
But then I thought of the cons. It's not NYC. I'd miss the crazy culture. I'd miss the subway (it's always such a bitch to friend a DD). I'd miss the beautiful buildings and my beautiful rooftop. Not to mention, I'd miss my NYC friends. I loved them. But, it could be career suicide. Once you leave the NYC magazine circle, you can't get back in. So if things didn't work out in Texas, I'd be screwed. And lastly, Cayden loves NYC, and wants to come visit me there, specifically.
I hit reply.

11. No regrets

Cayden knows the Casey story. He actually just read it all again, in that last post. Yes, Cayden reads this blog. So does Casey. It's a little hard writing about these things sometimes, knowing that they now know what was going through my head at the time. Cayden can't stand the thought of me being with someone like Casey in the past. Casey can't stand that I was with someone like him in the past. But really, I can't say I have any regrets about it. I mean, sure, no one wants to date a woman beater, but that experience added a layer to me that I didn't have before. It's part of what plays into who I am today.
The first time I told Cayden that story, it was that night on the roof, before the base running. I know what you're thinking, "You talked about your abusive 'ex' on your first date?!!" Yes. I did. We talked about everything that night. And it didn't feel weird. Usually when I'm out on a date with a guy and he even brings up a past relationship, red flag no doubt about it. But that night wasn't like a first date. It was like a first, second, third. It was like talking to someone I'd been talking to for months and months. And when he left, those discussions only intensified. That's the funny thing about long-distance relationships: The physical aspect is completely removed, so all you can do is talk. People say sex changes everything. They couldn't be more right. If we lived in the same state, we'd make out instead of date, have sex instead of talk. But what I had with Cayden was completely different. He knew me better than I anyone else. I didn't even talk to my mom as much as I talked to Cayden. And if you know me, you know that's saying a lot.
After a month or so, Cayden started talking about flying back out here to visit me. He wanted to come here in December. He wanted me to think of all the romantic things people do in NYC, so we could do them together. Before this particular email, the romantic things in NYC made me want to vom. Ice skating in Bryant Park? A carriage ride through Central Park? None of this appealed to me. But when I thought about doing these things with Cayden, my gag reflex calmed.
I was still dating Jon, but losing interest as the days passed. We hung out less and less. I ignored his calls now and then. I tried to picture myself ice skating with Jon. My stomach turned. Romance with Jon, or any other guy I'd dated for that matter, made me queasy. Will (my best friend turned boyfriend in college) was a romantic. He'd bring me flowers on a date. Write me sweet notes in a Valentines card. One day, I had stayed the night and we decided to take a shower together at his place. This took a lot of convincing, because bathroom lights are harsh, and being fully naked in front of someone under such bright lights almost caused an anxiety attack. I wanted to jump in before him, lather up in soap, and then invite him in. He turned on the dim light. Being the romantic that he was, he lit an incense and had lavender-scented body wash waiting for me. I knew he had put a lot of thought into this, and I appreciated the detail. But when I was in the shower, he was lathering me up, it suddenly felt so hot. The water was too hot. Knowing he was in there as well made it too hot. I felt like the incense was burning everything around me. Was I on fire? I suddenly felt like I was going to pass out.
"Sorry, I need a second."
I stepped out of the shower and sat on the toilet, bar- ass naked, closed my eyes and put my head between my knees. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. The smell of the incense burned my nostrils. I remember being so frustrated with myself that I couldn't fully enjoy his passionate gestures. Other girls would kill for this. Will was someone who would do anything for me. Before we were even together he'd take care of me if I was sick, take me to the doctor, then go fill my prescription. He was just the absolute sweetest guy. To this day I know I'll never meet someone as caring and giving as Will. He was perfect, but not for me. We broke up a year and a half ago, and he found his perfect match. He's blissfully happy, and I can't explain how happy that makes me.
But when I think about these things with Cayden, it's different. I could easily see myself ice skating with him, even if that meant falling on the ice and permanently bruising my tailbone, as long as we could laugh about it over hot chocolate afterwards.
My days became consumed with researching romantic things to do in NYC. I knew for sure that I wanted to take him to Aqua Santa, this beautiful Italian restaurant with the perfect outdoor patio. It was a few blocks away from my apartment in Brooklyn, and it was perfect. There was a fireplace outside, and twinkle lights and (probably fake) grapevines lined the ceiling. The chairs and tables looked antique, white iron with teal cushions. I couldn't think of anything but being in front of that fireplace with Cayden, sipping red wine under the twinkle lights, talking about life.
And then take a shower with him.