The Break-Up Chronicles
Episode 5 — Liza
Modern Love
Episode 5 — Liza
LIZA
I met Liza through a friend from work, Nicole.
It was a rainy St. Patrick’s Day in New York City, and me and some colleagues had gone out after work. It wasn’t the type of torrential downpour; it was just drizzling, and for the holiday, it was pretty quiet. So we were all outside smoking and drinking.
I had met Liza a month before at some other happy hour thing, and we shared a cigarette outside. We made small talk, and while I thought she was attractive, I was in one of my “I can’t be bothered” stages.
As we stood outside this time, Liza and another friend, Karen, showed up. Along with Nicole, I watched the three of them and their maturity drop a few years. If I hadn’t had a few pints already, all the braying would’ve driven me nuts.
When Liza and her friend left, I asked Nicole about Liza. I guess it only took a month for me to enter the “I can be bothered” stage.
“Hey, is Liza single?”
Nicole seemed surprised: “You’re interested in Liza?”
“Yea. Why?”
“Guys usually go for Karen, and she thought you were cute.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I guess I’m not your usual guy then; besides, I’m not too fond of blondes. So, can I get Liza’s number?”
Nicole still seemed to be a little confused: “Yea, sure, I’ll ask.”
The type of woman I am attracted to is intelligent, strong, confident, and just naturally themselves—a woman who doesn’t pretend to be anything they’re not. I prefer women who don’t need a guy but want a guy. Of course, it helped that Liza had long black, curly hair and was curvy in all the best places.
There was also the bonus that I could almost see the invisible barbed wire fence around her. Naturally, I liked the challenge of trying to get over that fence. Suffice it to say; I thought Liza was beautiful.
I am also strangely drawn to women who have horrible eyesight without glasses or contacts. I’ll spare you all that and save it for the therapist to unpack.
“OK, let me text her and see if she’s OK with me giving you her number.” Nicole banged something into her phone, and we waited …not very long: “She said I could give it to you.” Since I had learned my lesson with Heather a couple of years back, this time, I put Liza’s number into my phone.
Our first date was dinner at some swanky place in the West Village. We had fun and found out that despite our age difference, we had a lot in common. As we walked to the subway station to take our respective trains home, me to Greenpoint, her to Bay Ridge, we hugged each other, no kiss.
A couple of days went by, and we traded emails and made plans to meet again. We went out for another dinner and had even more fun this time. This time as we parted, we kissed. It’s all about that first kiss, in’it? The kiss with Liza wasn’t magical; those kisses are rare. It also wasn’t one of those tipsy, awkward, sloppy, teeth-banging kisses. It was nice and comfortable. We both were a little surprised.
Liza and I continued to date, and it was a pretty chaste affair for about two months. One night she had driven into the city, and we went to a lecture at City College. After we had dinner, she offered to drive me home. Now, if you’ve never lived in New York City I need to explain this — if it’s past 10p, getting a ride home to Brooklyn — for free — in a private car — is like winning a mini-transit lottery.
When we got to my apartment building, and she double-parked so we could say goodbye.
“Thanks for the ride,” and I leaned in to kiss her.
As our kiss broke, she asked: “Are you ever going to invite me up?”
“You’ve never been here before.”
“Well, yea, but we’ve been seeing each other for almost two months.”
“So?”
“Well, it’s usually the third date thing.”
I honestly had no idea: “Huh?”
“Typically, after the third date, you end up in bed together.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ. Where the fuck is that written?” We both laughed: “Look, it’s not like I haven’t wanted you to come up. I guess the opportunity had never presented itself.”
“What about now?’
“While you’re double-parked? I’d kinda like a little more time.”
Liza smiled: “I can park the car.”
“Well, now it would just be awkward.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Why don’t we have lunch and go to the flea market this weekend?”
She smiled and nodded: “That sounds like fun.”
And yes, that weekend was fun.
A lot of fun.
Summer rolled in, and we spent most weekends together.
Liza has a master’s degree in city planning and loves Brooklyn history, so she would pick a neighborhood and guide me in walking tours. We would take loads of pictures, real pictures with cameras, and it was fascinating to learn about all the history in my adopted home.
After our third one, we were walking around Brooklyn Heights, and she stopped to ask me: “Do you enjoy this, or just what we do after?”
“Why can’t it be both?”
She chuckled: “It can be, but I don’t wanna drag you around if you’re not into it.”
“No, I am. I grew up in the suburbs; a house from the 60s was considered historical. Besides, what better way to learn than having an educated native give me a tour. And yea, what we do after is a different kind of fun.”
Liza grabbed my hand: “Come on, I know a place to get a drink.”
“It’s a little early, no?”
“No. Come on, it’s a real shit hole. You’ll love it.”
And yes, I did like it.
I liked it a lot.
We never really had any rows. We had some tense moments, and I’m not even sure how they dissipated, but they did. I think at the heart of it, we both knew it wasn’t forever, and we were killing time. It was a bonus that we got along and had fun together.
Liza had made it a point to tell me that she had only ever brought one guy around to meet her family, so one Saturday night, I was a bit shocked when she said she had to stop by her parent’s place. It was a quick visit, but its significance wasn’t lost on me.
You may recall (if you have read the previous installment) that Heather and I had a few rounds of breaking up and getting back together. A little like a velcro relationship, if you will.
In any event, just as autumn was coming in, Heather and I reconnected. It wasn’t Facebook or anything else. I’m pretty sure it was on the subway platform into work. We lived in the same neighborhood and worked for the same company, so seeing each other was just a matter of time.
Heather then started asking me what time I was taking the train in the morning, and she would periodically ping me at work to get coffee. Heather knew I was dating someone else but made it known she wanted to get back together. I wasn’t so sure that’s what I wanted …nevertheless, she persisted.
As the holidays approached, Liza invited me to her family’s house for Thanksgiving. This is a big deal for any new couple. And a bigger deal because she had never done that before. I knew the gravity of the situation, even if she was more than accommodating and telling me not to worry. Naturally, I did.
It was a nice Thanksgiving, if a bit too traditional for me. I don’t give one fuck about football, so that was a bit awkward. Her cousins were big Italian guys who loved sports, as did Liza, so there was a bit of a disconnect there. I suspect the writer arty guy was a bit like seeing a spotted owl for them. But everyone was super friendly.
Meanwhile, I’m at Thanksgiving dinner with the woman I’m currently dating while the woman I used to date was texting me (that’d be Heather, in case you lost track.) Fortunately, I was able to ignore them until I got home later that night.
How was your Thanksgiving?
Fine.
What did you do?
I think you know what I did.
Did you have fun?
It was nice, yea.
Aren’t you gonna ask about my Thanksgiving?
Sure. How was it?
It was fun! I did (yadda yadda yadda).
Cool.
I am walking right by your place tomorrow, do you want to meet for a drink?
(delayed response) What time?
Noon-ish?
(more extended delayed response) Sure.
Heather and I did meet that Friday and continued to meet after. As a result, I began withdrawing from Liza. It wasn’t entirely intentional. Well, I suppose it was. I was growing conflicted.
I knew there was no future with Liza.
I thought there might be a future with Heather.
Although I cared immensely for Liza, I didn’t love her.
Although I still loved Heather, I didn’t know whether I was over the hurt or if I ever could be.
Liza and I continued to date and hang out. I mean, what else could I call it at that point? We would go to the odd lecture here— nerdy foreplay but always enlightening — but many of our dates consisted of fucking and eating out (let’s move past the obvious joke there) and not always in that order. Neither of us complained; we were having fun.
Christmas came, and we agreed to exchange gifts. Both of us put time and thought into our gifts. As we exchanged them, we realized that we knew each other pretty well; perhaps better than we thought. Even though we didn’t spend the actual day together, it was honestly one of the nicer Christmases I had had in years.
Meanwhile, Heather was still dancing around the edges, not hiding her desire to reconcile. So this growing chasm between Liza and me was 100% on me. I didn’t put a stop to seeing Heather. I made it known I was seeing someone and wasn’t interested in getting back together.
I should’ve put a stop to it so that I could clear my head. And I didn’t.
By mid-January, I had become pretty emotionally detached from Liza and was beginning to put off seeing her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get back together with Heather, but I also knew I didn’t want to be with Liza at the moment.
I also knew I was being a dick.
Confused men are often dicks.
One night Liza and I were texting, and she pushed …and pushed. While I knew I wanted to end it by then, I did not want to do it over text. But she pushed:
So that’s it, are you saying you don’t want to see me anymore?
Can’t we talk about this in person?
Why? If you don’t wanna see me, say it now.
I really don’t want to do that right now.
So, you’re saying you don’t want to see each other anymore?
Fine then, yea, that’s what I’m saying then.
Great. Thanks. You can give my stuff to Nicole.
I felt like complete shit because I was from the Seinfeld school of break-ups:
If you slept with them, it’s gotta be a face-to-face break-up.
Maybe it’s a generational thing. I dunno.
Oh, I may have forgotten to mention that Nicole was one of Liza’s oldest and closest friends …and we shared an office. So, that was fun for a few weeks after Liza and I broke up.
About a week later, Liza sent me a text telling me how some guy at her job, who I had previously called out for being into her, had tried to kiss her at work. I asked her if she was OK and if that was all he tried. She said that she was fine, and that was it. She was just creeped out. I felt irritated for her, but Liza was from Brooklyn and really Italian; I’m not usually one to stereotype, but I had met her family. So, I didn’t worry too much beyond that — I was pretty sure it would be fine.
Over the next few years, Liza and I continued to follow each other on Instagram. We liked the odd thing here and there. I can’t recall who reached out first, but I’m almost sure Liza sent me a direct message first.
I was single by then, and we began “chatting” on IG. I had also moved out of Brooklyn, but we continued chatting. I was in the city for work about two months later and asked her if she wanted dinner. She was open to it.
During dinner, I took the opportunity to apologize for the way we broke up. She smiled and said: “Thank you. That was pretty shitty.”
“You’re right. It was shitty, and I’m sorry.”
“I know you got back together with Heather.”
Nicole had probably told her: “Yea, I figured.”
“Was that why we broke up?”
I paused to look at her, and I could tell she needed to know this, and the truth was, we didn’t break up because of Heather …she just sped it up: “No.”
Liza nodded and didn’t press any further, but there was no doubt she knew more than she let on.
I am often amazed at how some people are prone to forgiveness. If I were in her shoes, I am not so sure I would have been as forgiving.
After that dinner, we continued texting. By now, we dropped IG chatting and were using our phones again. The texts became flirty, and then they became downright sexual. But she said she wasn’t gonna travel out to me “just to get laid.” And frankly, she lived out in east bumblefuck Brooklyn, and I felt the same. Because I traveled so much for work, I had loads of Hilton points, so I threw out the idea of getting a room in the city for a night.
Let’s not be coy. We know her answer.
And we would hang out a couple more times over the next few months. With both of us each gathering up our sherpa’s and trekking out to our respective homes. In what will surprise no one who has stuck with the story this far, a casual relationship that includes an almost three-hour commute doesn’t become much fun, and it just tapered out. There was no need to “break up” this time because there was nothing to break up.
Although, Liza did have a propensity to drunk text me. That was fun.
A year or so later, I was in the city again for work and staying over. I asked her if she wanted to meet up for drinks and dinner — both acutely aware of where we would end up. She asked me to leave a key for her at the hotel desk so she could drop her bag off ahead of time.
My “thing” with Liza was more than “friends with benefits” because I knew we both cared for one another. But it was less than love. We were there to occupy one another, to fill the void when we were both single, searching for someone else. Even if neither of us looked that hard. That may sound strange outside looking in, but we never had much of an issue with it. If you understand the rules ahead of time, it’s easier to play along.
While I have come to embrace text messaging, I still don’t feel it’s the best way to communicate complicated thoughts or address anything emotional. Not for me anyway. That being said, I loathe talking on the phone, only marginally like Facetime, and my preference is face-to-face for serious shit. So, from a communication standpoint, it doesn’t leave too much.
Who knows though, maybe it is a generational thing, but I suspect I’ll be long gone when they implant the chips that allow us to communicate telepathically.
As for Liza and I?
Good people are good people and we still keep in touch every now and again.
However, we’re not currently sleeping together.