When Jim and I met on March 19, 2011, a relationship was the last thing that I wanted. I was a single mom to a daughter who wasn't even 2 years old. I was going to school. I was enjoying being single which is something I had never done in my adult life before I became a mother. Besides random hookups, I was done with men. I didn't want a boyfriend, I never wanted to get married, and I certainly didn't want to have any more children. It's funny how the exact things you DON'T want are the things that you get.
The first month of my relationship with Jim was great. More than great. Amazing. Wonderful. Outstanding. I still don't even have all of the words to describe it. When we went on our first date, I was shocked and surprised when he came to pick me up. Not only did he knock on the door instead of calling or texting me, he opened the car door for me. I was blown away.
After about a month, I remember having a conversation about methadone. I was ignorant about it. Sure, I knew that it was supposedly for helping get off heroin and other opioid drugs. But in my mind, I saw no point in it - it was simply going from one drug to another and it didn't work. All methadone did was get you off of one drug and onto another, with the only difference being this other drug was legal. I don't even know how the subject came up. I didn't find out until about a week after my anti-methadone statements that Jim was a methadone patient - and that he decided he did not want to be on it anymore. He walked off of his clinic.
On April 17, 2011, Jim and I went to a Phillies game. He hadn't been feeling too well. While we were waiting for the train to come, he asked me about moving in together. I liked Jim; I liked him a lot. I had only been in two other relationships before, and both moved very quickly. I had moved in with my first boyfriend almost immediately. I had already been staying at my second boyfriend's house for a bit before we got together. I didn't want to move so quickly this time. As a matter of fact, I think it may have been before this same game, we had gone to the store to buy some sunflower seeds and other stuff to take to the game with us. I don't remember what I said but Jim was standing behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and I remember very clearly what he said: "That's why I love you." My eyes widened. When he asked me about moving in together, I gave him an honest answer. After a brief pause, I swallowed and told him, "I do really like you. But I don't want to move that fast. We've only been seeing each other for a month and I'd like to get to know you more."
We went to the game. We both had a beer but I barely drank mine. Since he wasn't feeling too good so we left before the game was over (I absolutely HATE to leave a Phillies game early; this had only been the second or third time ever that I left early and the only time we ever had together). Jim came home with me and we parted ways.
Fast forward to Easter Sunday, one week later. Jim spent the night at my house the night before, Easter Eve, so to speak. On Easter morning, Jim woke up and left to go home, shower, and change. When he came back that afternoon, he spent most of the day before leaving again. He was gone for a few hours and came back, clearly intoxicated. At first, I thought he was drunk and wasn't very happy with the fact that he was drinking and driving. My mom had had several beverages and was drunk when Jim got back. She asked me if he drank a lot. The two of them spent some time talking. I was quiet because I had seen something that put me at a loss for words.
Noticing how quiet I was being, Jim asked if I wanted to go outside. We went out, sat in his car, and smoked a blunt. Jim asked me what was wrong. I didn't respond verbally; instead I started to cry. He asked me again. Through my tears, I said to him, "I told you why I don't talk to my best friend (Sam, the one who stopped talking to me that past January, after I discovered she was doing heroin and I went to her sister about it) and why I don't have anything to do with my daughter's father and I don't like what I see on your arm."
Jim started to cry as well. He tried to cover up his needle marks that I was talking about. I don't remember much else that we talked about that night. My head told me to end the relationship right then and there. My heart told me not to, to give him a chance. As heartbroken as I was, I decided to listen to my heart. I had no idea what the next few months were going to bring.
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