Grudge in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

I was reading an entry by Contra Night Stalker about the conflict he has in his relationship and my initial reaction was to say that I don't know about those types of conflict because I haven't had a relationship in a long time... but that's just not true.

I had a few conflicts with Cesar, mostly about our communications styles, but I had several conflicts with Edgar. My tendency to want to remember the good in people, despite my reputation, means that I don't remember the things that matter. Edgar and I didn't fight on the kind of level that was described by Contra, but our arguments were like intellectual chess matches where we were constantly trying to one-up each other for control as the dominant one in the relationship. I have heard it said that in romantic relationships the one who loves least has the most power. Edgar and I were like a teeter-totter for a while in that we both occupied that position at different periods of time.

Throughout that entire time in Paris, I had one person who knew about Edgar and I. (As an aside, I find it ironic that I once again found myself in a "secret" relationship at 28... had I not learned anything since age 15?) Caite was someone that I became acquainted with prior to coming to Paris, it turned out that we had some mutual friends in common and we were both among the oldest attendees of the trip. Our friendship was cemented the first weekend we were in Paris, we decided to go out and make our mark on the town before classes started... we arrived on a Friday, classes started on Monday morning... I know that doesn't seem back, but you must remember, we were still stuck on California time-zones... we should have spent that time getting our bodies used to being displaced by nine hours.

It was myself and three others, I was the lead of the group simply because I was the one who spoke the most French... and by most, I mean any... although I was advanced. That first night I had my first conversation with a go-go boy. We were the crazy ones who went out and partied until dawn our first day there.

Caite's door was opposite mine in the hallway. As the days continued, I was always in her room, especially when Edgar did something to piss me off... which was pretty often. Although, sometimes it was all in my head... it took me some time to get used to dating someone ten years my junior. She kept me in check, told me I was being an idiot when I was and encouraged me when I needed it. She was truly a very great friend.

On the way home, we got in a fight and I yelled at her. We stopped speaking although I still cared for her greatly. When I get angry, I become wrapped up in all kinds of emotions and typically I find it best to stop speaking to someone so that I don't say something hurtful to them. I don't calm down quickly or with ease, and so time is something that I take.

In Caite's case, I took too much time because she passed aware roughly eight months later. Rather abruptly, they found tumors and she fought hard for months against a cancer that ate away at her insides. She remained courageous throughout the entire experience, although I did not know it until after she had passed.

Out of the 38 of us who went to Paris, only three of us showed up for Caite's funeral. I may have been hurt but I never stopped loving her and wishing for her happiness. At the funeral, I told the story of how Caite had become my sanctuary in Paris. How when I went to her room, I didn't have to be polite, patient or cautious... she let me be myself.

(Caite and her roommate Kelsie in Paris)

I need someone to help me referee my arguments so that I don't get to mean or nasty... because I've seen my forebears argue, and I see that I could easily fall into their patterns. But what happens when I get in an argument with that moderator? I can't seem to get any traction on the argument and I waste time trying to figure out what went wrong.

Caite died before I could seek her forgiveness. I'm not too upset about that. The dead hold no grudges; we must release ourselves from the guilt that binds us. But I have not spoken to Lindsey since January, and I haven't spoken to my friend Kendra since I was in Paris nearly two years ago. Maybe I should give up the ghost and humble myself before these two extraordinary women who played an amazing role in my life.

Maybe I should apologize.