How I Met Your Father, Part Sixteen

Chapter One     Chapter Two     Chapter Three     Chapter Four     Chapter Five

Chapter Six     Chapter Seven     Chapter Eight      Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine Point Five    Chapter Ten     Chapter Eleven     Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen     Chapter Fourteen    Chapter Fourteen Point Five

Chapter Fifteen

 

Chapter Sixteen: In America’s Armpit
After the Christmas break, Fiancé and I took the long road trip from my hometown back to his school in America’s Armpit. I would be moving in with Fiancé ‘s friend, Lilac, while he was still living in the dorms on campus at his school.

The first evening in the new town, as Fiancé drove me around and showed me his school, a curb, cleverly concealed beneath a mountain of ice and snow, jumped out and ate a piece of one of the tires on the car our parents had just helped us purchase.

Thus, one of my first tasks in my new abode was to replace the tire. The tires were still new and under warranty and could be replaced for free.

The only problem was that the village in which Fiancé ‘s school was located didn’t have a branch of the right tire company. I had to look up where the nearest location was (again, in the days before you could just Google everything) and figure out how to get there.

I drove several hours on the spare tire to the next town that had the appropriate tire company, through dozens more of the same type of minute hamlets where the speed limit was 4mph, curving around little hills where local police sat in wait for unsuspecting drivers with out-of-state license plates. At last, however, I acquired my new “free” tire, and got to make the trek back to Lilac’s apartment.

My next responsibility was to get a job. I had a decent savings, enough to get by on for awhile, but not long. So, as Genius Nerd Fiancé settled into his school routine with his friends and his life, I filled out applications at virtually every business in town. (There were three or four, at least. Maybe even five establishments at which a person might potentially earn a living.)

It just so happened that there was a group home near Fiancé ‘s school, so that was my first choice for employment opportunities. After all, I had a college degree and almost two years of experience, so it seemed ideal.

They weren’t hiring.

And neither were the restaurants or coffee shops or any of the other places I applied.

As for my social life, I met a few of Fiancé ‘s friends, but still, they were his friends. I got along well with Lilac, but she worked at Fiancé ‘s school, and was gone for most of the day every day.

And so I spent day after day alone in Lilac’s apartment or wandering around town filling out job applications.

Fiancé was very busy with school, his on-campus job, and his extra-curricular activities. I went by for lunch sometimes, but eating in the cafeteria at his school was fairly expensive for someone with no job.

Then, to round out my frustration and misery, Fiancé forgot to talk to me.

It wasn’t that he was ignoring me maliciously as Little Tony had done, but it didn’t seem to register with him that I’d moved across the country for him and had no friends, no nearby family, no job, and no life. Or that I might, now and again, need attention from the man who said he loved me and intended to marry me.

More than once, I mentioned to him my distress. “I need you to talk to me, I need you to call me, I need you to spend time with me.”

Over and over he promised to try harder, yet his life kept getting in the way.

In the meantime, I still continued with my search for gainful employment.

A month went by. I had to pay my second month’s rent to Lilac while still not generating any income. At one point, I remembered that on my journey to replace the tire I’d passed a Bed and Breakfast in the next town over that had a tea kitchen. As I had exhausted every possibility in the town where I lived, I reasoned that might as well apply there.

As it happened, the B&B was run by a delightful Christian couple, and they needed help in the tea room kitchen on weekends. I was adamant about not working Sundays—aside from being one of the few days I got to spend time with Fiancé, it was important to both of us that we attend church together.

Saturdays, however, were fair game, and I began working as a prep-cook. The establishment was a solid twenty-minute drive away, (which was pretty far in middle-of-nowhere terms) and I only worked six hours a week, but it was better than nothing.

Sometime after that, I got another part-time job at a coffee house/bakery. My hours were scarce and irregular, but again, at least it was something. Then, I got a third part-time job waitressing at a Mexican food restaurant.

Now I had a moderate, albeit spotty, amount of income, but my relationship with Fiancé wasn’t getting any better.

Despite his best intentions, he regularly disremembered to call me or come by or factor me into his life. Perhaps it was because our entire relationship heretofore had been long distance and his only real requirement from me was a daily email and an occasional four-hour phone call in the middle of the night, or perhaps it was because he was a man and didn’t understand my feminine need for an actual communicative, time-invested relationship, or perhaps it was just that my expectations were too high.

At any rate, his inability to prioritize me and our relationship in his schedule weighed down upon me until I got to the point where I could no longer accept it. If he couldn’t even attempt to communicate with me now, I could not be married to him.

It came down to an ultimatum.

“I need you to call me. I need you to talk to me. I moved here to be near you, I hardly see you any more than I did when we were 46,317,651 miles apart, and we talk even less, because at least then we were talking on the phone and emailing frequently. I left a good job to come here to be near you. I have no friends and three insignificant part-time jobs, and I’m not happy here. The main reason I broke up with Little Tony was because he refused to communicate with me. I love you, but I can’t do this anymore. You need to make an effort to make me a priority in your life. Otherwise, why should I bother to stay?”