4. Out of Despair: Lord, Seriously?

My First Red Flag: Ken 2004

Ahhh, Ken. The source of my first-ever red flag with Rob. His 29 year old ten-year-old. The guy three people in two states have taken me aside and asked politely 'is he mildly retarded?'

Ken is not retarded at all. He's not even developmentally disabled. What he is is career-challenged. That first red flag? When Rob and I were still just talking by phone, hadn't met in person yet, he told me about his son living with him. We were chatting away and Rob launched into how completely proud he was of his son for going out and landing two part-time jobs; one at Safeway and the other at Sears.

Cool, I thought, the kid sounds motivated! I wondered if he was saving up for a car or maybe college, and if this was maybe his senior year in high school. Rob was going on: Ken would be working 10 or 15 hours a week at each job and... he just couldn't be prouder of him! When I asked him Ken's age, the red flag that flew up and smacked me square in the face when Rob said TWENTYFOUR was huge and I should have paid IMMENSE attention to it. Thinking of my own daughter, who, at 22 was a college graduate and 911 dispatcher with her own 401k, I was astonished and, frankly, turned off at the pride that gushed forth on the phone that night over his 24 year old son's new career collecting shopping carts.  Oh, would that I have known then, that this adult-child would be a key player in the ultimate ruin of my life with my prince. He would win his daddy's heart and I would lose it.

The Red Flags Keep Rolling Out...
Rob first proposed to me in March of 2005. (I say first because it was the first of three marriage proposals. He kept proposing, procrastinating, and breaking it off.) We had driven to Eden, Utah to look for a house to buy. He had accepted a job there and wanted to have his house purchased before he began the new job. Anyway, he asked, I said yes, and the next morning I sang some silly song to him about taking me away to the mountain castle blah blah blah.

In May we talked about how hard it would be for us to be apart, he was leaving in June and I was not welcome to marry him until I had paid my car off and was completely out of debt. We ultimately decided it would just suck too much to be separated by two states so I would quit my job on June 1st and move to Eden with him. My dream was coming true! We still could not talk about the whole getting married thing, even though I had a ring I had no indication of a date. I had, after all, a car to get paid off before I could marry him.

Things went smoothly during the move, I was in heaven moving into this beautiful big house in the mountains of Eden with my Prince who would love me and cherish me forever. (Well, as soon as that little marriage thing was fulfilled anyway). Weekdays he worked at his new job and I unpacked and set up our new pad, cleaned and cooked. On weekends my prince would surely want to share our days off together, doing things he liked to do with me, as I would him?Wouldn't we run errands together, take little road trips, do stuff together? His stuff and my stuff? Wasn't that what couples did?

Well, we did stuff. We ran errands. We took little road trips. His stuff. His errands. His trips. Exclusively. A month or so after moving to Eden we drove into Ogden one day to run some of these infamous errands. Home Depot was on the radar. I really wanted a cup of coffee but Rob didn't so... we didn't stop for coffee. We did go to Home Depot and all his other places and he promised we'd stop for coffee, but we never did. Before I knew it we were on our way home.

I said nothing until we got back up to Eden, a little confused at the touch of selfishness I had just witnessed in my Prince. We pulled up to a four-way stop and I looked at him and said  'can I ask a question? Why do we always do your errands and side trips, but ignore what I ask to do?' and, I'll never forget this, Rob stared at me, sitting at that stop sign, and his face became very dark. And out of absolutely nowhere he spat out You know what Trace I listened to that for twenty years and I am NOT about to listen to it for another twenty years. I am NOT going to marry you. He drove like a maniac the last two miles home, slammed the door, and I didn't see him for the rest of the day. I retreated to the guest room I had so carefully decorated with all my worldly belongings and wondered what had just happened. Was this real? Surely it had to be a bad dream, my Prince would never go from loving me with all his heart to slamming me with a break up over a simple question?

Rob half-heartedly apologized a day later. My prince was back... he did love me! The incident was forgotten.  Over the next few months I worked hard to be a team player, to always be pitching in with 200% effort to show how much I worshiped Rob and wanted him to be happy with me. I got a job. I kept our house spotless and fixed all his favorite meals. In November his daughter moved in with us. She stayed for about a month and decided to move back out. On the day she left Rob returned from taking her to the airport and went straight to bed. It was around noon. I lay down next to him, just wanting to be there for him to cry on my shoulder about how much he would miss his little girl. After a few hours of dead silence Rob suddenly blurted out that he really didn't know where our relationship was going. No warning. No hints, just Trace I think I'm done with you. We both cried when I asked him if he still wanted to marry me and he said no.

I fell apart. I worked twice as hard to make Rob happy to have me living with him. Floors were spotless, dinners were hot and on time, snow in the driveway was shoveled. I tiptoed around the house; maybe I were invisible enough he would enjoy all my efforts but not be bothered enough by my actual presence to ask me to leave. Christmas was strained but I worked hard to be a good partner. I thought things were going to be OK when Rob bought me a nice camera for Christmas. Photography was my passion, I saw art in every tree, mountain, and snowbank and I wanted to capture it. I was good, too. God had blessed me with an eye for taking photos. Rob must have thought so too, otherwise why would he have given me such a nice gift, this professional camera?  

In January Rob agreed to attend a pre-marriage class at a local church. We went for six weeks, did our homework, talked about what we learned. Rob never showed much emotion so when he seemed kind of dry throughout the class I wasn't worried. It's just his princely demeanor I told myself. That very logic-driven brain, devoid of irrelevant feelings, was precisely what made him a brilliant professional engineer. Who was I to question his successful life?

In March I had the audacity to bring up a possible date, we had been engaged now for one year. Rob replied he just really didn't know, in fact he didn't even know if he wanted to get married ever. His reason this time: he was a selfish man, he said, and he wanted what he wanted, with no one to be accountable for it. He wanted to start collecting dirt bikes and was not about to have some wife give him grief for it. That was his great reason for dumping me. Again. I gave him his ring back and moved into my little room downstairs.

In May Rob announced he had purchased and closed on a house on the other side of the valley. He would be moving into it--alone. I could stay in this house, he said, until he sold it. I put on my bravest face and helped him pack and move his stuff out. I was fortunate, I told myself, to have such a generous boyfriend to let me live in one of his houses for free. Surely if I pitched in, gave more effort and kept a cheerful demeanor he would realize I belonged with him. So I helped him pack, move, and unpack his things. I cleaned his new cabin spotless. I put clean sheets on his new bed and prepared him a bunch of meals he could heat in the microwave for dinners. Then I went back to the big quiet house, completely empty now except for my little room downstairs, and cried myself to sleep.

In July Rob moved his son into his cabin. I cleaned house and cooked meals for them every week. If I ever spent the night I was instructed to sleep on the sofa. When I finally got tired of the big empty house I took the initiative to rent a little apartment. Bob visited occasionally and we courted as if we had just met. Five months into apartment-living I grew some kahonas and told Rob I would be moving back to my family in Washington if we weren't engaged by the end of the year.  On New Years Day he pleaded for a little time, I gave it, and in February, two years after his first marriage proposal, he asked me to marry him and stay with him in Eden. He still wouldn't commit to a date, but since my car was now paid off and I was out of debt with money in the bank, I was closer than ever to being in compliance as a fiance.

We were engaged again! I moved into the cabin with him. Spring came, then summer. Kids visited, grandkids were born, life went on. We went on many, many day trips to pick up old dirt bikes. I loved going with him. I loved being with him. I loved his nasty old dirt bikes, spiders and all. I did cringe inwardly when he rebuked me for daring ask if we might ever take a photo-shooting day trip, but I cheerfully went with him on every single dirt bike-buy, and that was ok. We got along, shared hours and hours of delightful conversation about politics, family, dogs and cats. I was deliriously happy with my prince. I waited patiently for him to bring up a wedding date but that conversation never came.

In December, ten months after my second dream marriage proposal, Rob dropped a bomb on me once again, saying wow he just didn't know if he really wanted to get married.  Shocked once again, I took hold of myself and stood my ground, and calmly said goodbye.