Friday, July 22, 2011


In early December 2007, Chris and I went to Hawaii for five days.  At the end of our trip, Chris flew back to Victoria, where we lived at the time, and I made a side-trip to Los Angeles, where I spent several days at Disneyland.  On the way home, I flew back to Vancouver, then on to Victoria, where I arrived just after midnight.  Because Chris had that day off, he offered to drive out to the airport to pick me up.  I appreciated that, since taking the airport shuttle isn't the most efficient way to get home at the end of a long travel day.

When I arrived in Vancouver on my return, I had several hours to kill before my thirty-five minute flight to Victoria.  I ate a sandwich from Subway, then called Chris at home.  It was great to hear his voice again, even though we'd only been away from each other for about four days. Among other subjects we discussed, I confirmed my flight from Vancouver was on schedule, which meant I'd arrive back in Victoria at a quarter past midnight.  Chris said he'd be at the airport waiting for me.  I couldn't wait to see him.

As expected, my flight arrived in Victoria on time.  I was exhausted.  Earlier that day, I'd spent a number of hours at Disneyland, getting in that last bit of magic.  Then, around 2:00 p.m., I started the trek home.  I caught the airport bus to Los Angeles International, where I waited four hours before the flight to Vancouver.  Once there, I waited another three hours to fly to Victoria. All told, my entire travel time, including all buses and flights, was about ten hours.  I couldn't wait to be home, in my own bed.

When I walked into the airport terminal at Victoria International, I smiled to myself, excited to see Chris's face for the first time in days.  I walked through the departures and arrivals area through a large door into the terminal, where relatives and friends awaited passengers.  I scanned the crowd of faces for Chris's but didn't see it.  I thought that was odd but guessed he might have gotten caught in traffic (although, at that time of the night, in Victoria, there was no traffic).  I walked to the baggage carousel and waited for my suitcase.

Suitcase in hand, I watched as everyone filed out of the terminal.  The long hallways and public areas were nearly empty.  The airport shuttle, parked outside the arrivals door, departed.  I knew from previous trips that was the final shuttle of the night.  Suitcase in tow, I walked outside into the freezing marine air and scanned the public parking area.  Still no sign of Chris.  I couldn't imagine what had happened to him.  I hoped for the best but expected the worst.  Could he have been in an accident?  I prayed he hadn't.  

Soon thereafter, I searched for a public phone in the deserted terminal (Chris and I don't have cell phones because we don't like them).  I found a quarter, placed it in the phone, and dialled our home number.  After a few rings, Chris answered.  I don't remember the first words that came out of my mouth, I was so stunned, but I'm sure they went something like, "What the hell are you still doing at home?  Didn't you remember you were supposed to pick me up at the airport?"

He hadn't.  He asked me what time it was.  I told him.  I said my flight had arrived at Victoria International on schedule, and I'd been waiting for him to pick me up for at least twenty minutes. He explained he'd been on his computer, had gotten distracted, lost track of time.  I tried to stay calm.  I told him the last airport shuttle had left.  I said I could take a taxi home (although we didn't need the additional expense).  He said, no, he'd get in the car right away and come get me. I knew he wouldn't arrive for another forty-five minutes.

Those were among the longest forty-five minutes of my life.  For some of them, I sat in the terminal, watched the janitors buff the enormous expanse of floor, and shook my head.  For others, I stood outside, my bags on the ground beside me, wondering what the hell had happened.  He'd forgotten to pick me up?  After I'd called him just a few hours earlier to remind him when my flight would arrive and by what time he should be at the airport to get me?  I couldn't believe it. Alternately, I was stunned and furious.

Some time after 1:00 a.m., Chris arrived.  Adding insult to injury, instead of pulling up to the curb outside the arrivals area, he paid for a half hour of parking.  For the second time that morning, I wondered where his head was.  "You forgot me?" I asked when we met up.  I felt out of my body, I was so angry.  He mumbled something.  I didn't ask him to repeat it.  He offered to wheel my bags the rest of the way to the car, but I kept a firm grasp on the handle.  He opened the trunk, I put my bags in, and we left.

Chris and I didn't exchange one word while he spent the next forty minutes or so driving us back into the city.  Not a single word.  I couldn't even look at him.  Instead, I peered through the passenger side window into the darkness along the highway, broken here and there by the odd street lamp or neon sign.  My body was drained from the long day, but my mind was reeling.  In it, I called him every name I could think of.  I hated him.  I hated him for what he'd done, for making me feel worthless.

As soon as we got inside the house and closed the door, I let him have it.  I'd stewed so long at the airport waiting for him and on the ride home, I needed to release it, to let it pour out of me in a great flood.  And release it I did, before we even made it past our front door, in one long explosive attack.  Judging by the look on his face, he had no idea who I was.  He'd never seen me so livid before.  I didn't pause long enough for him to say anything.  He needed to know how I felt. I didn't want to hear a word out of him.

But my anger masked how I really felt.  Yes, my day had been long.  Yes, I'd been inconvenienced.  Yes, I was exhausted.  Yes, all I could think about was being home and crawling into my own bed.  But, more than that, I was hurt.  I felt subordinated to a computer. Whatever Chris had been doing on it felt like it was more important than me, more important than ensuring he was at the airport on time to pick me up, more important than having me back.

Toward the end of the scalding words that rolled uncensored from my mouth, I said, "I'd never do that to you.  I'd go out of my way to make sure I was at the airport before you arrived, so you knew how important you are to me.  I've always put you first.  From day one, you've been the priority in my life."  To which Chris uttered the unfortunate words, "Bullshit.  Who's waiting till all hours of the evening for you to get home from work?"  That stung.  He knew my job made demands on me I had little control over.  

We survived this incident, of course.  I don't recall how it was resolved, but I doubt we went to bed angry, because we never have.  Once I'd used up all the venom that had accumulated inside me, I'm sure I felt relief enough to calm down, to talk civilly again (who knows what damage I'd done?).  But the sting of what had happened was with me for a long time.  Call it insecurity, even though Chris and I had been together about fifteen years by then, but I still felt sometimes like I came second to him.  And I hated that.  

In retrospect, I learned two valuable lessons that night.  First, I learned that even those people we cherish the most can screw up, big time.  Despite perhaps holding them to a higher standard, because of the emotional connection we share, the truth is they're still human and capable of greatly disappointing us.  And the second lesson I learned was not to take everything personally. In the end, I wasn't at all in competition with Chris's computer, or anything else in his life.  It took me a little while to understand that.         


  1. This is a refreshing post, Rick! It reminds us all that relationships are not always rosy. Sometimes they can get downright ugly. Bailing is easy. What's interesting is the part you have since forgotten: the effective communication that followed the flipping out. I think you guys are so used to talking things through that that part isn't memorable. It's the mess-ups that stand out, thankfully as anomalies.

  2. Rural Gay, it was really important for me with this post to show Chris and I don't have the perfect relationship. I know through some of the other pieces I've written here I may have given the impression we don't go through some rough times, but, of course, we do. That's the nature of committed relationships. That's the nature of being human.

    I don't want gay and lesbian people to think their relationships should be without challenges; otherwise, there's no point being in them. As you say, bailing is easy (for the record, I would never have bailed on Chris over a single incident of being stranded at an airport, not given everything we have between us). And, yes, communication is critical during times like these (particularly after the heat cools down).

    While Chris comes off not looking good because of what happened, I didn't handle the situation particularly well, either. And I think that's important to point out. How could I have been so insecure, after being with Chris for fifteen years and knowing what kind of a person he is? How could I have thought being forgotten was a reflection of how Chris felt about me? Why did I go to anger instead of giving him the benefit of a doubt?

    Thanks for your interest in this post. And for highlighting details that are important to keep in mind within the context of any relationship.

  3. My partner has a time management issue at times. It took me a few months of dating to learn to not take it personally. But I still have moments where I wfeel marginalized. But I have to remember, he often has to deal with my hypersensitivity, and it isn't fun for him, me being annoyed with people at times. Someone I manage to have the presence of mind in my times of stress with my partner, that he could just as easily feel marginalized by my issues as I can by his. Ultimately, I feel better when we occasionally talk about it, and to remember that we both mean well, and aren't perfect. But yeah, sometimes we make an ass of ourselves. One interesting example... Our first fight happened to be on his birthday, when he was standing up in the sitting section of a stadium where we were seeing a rock band. Nobody else in our section was standing because the concert was a very mellow version of all the old songs of this band, although in many other sections of the stadium, everyone was standing (which of course didn't go unnoticed by my bf)! People asked him to sit down because he was blocking many people's view. He politely apologized to them, kept standing and muttered to me privately that they should stand up because "this is a rock concert, not a night at the opera". The thing is, I was sitting down. I yelled at him and told him he was full of shit because he wasn't dancing or anything anyway, when almost all these songs were ballads. If it were rocking music, I would have agreed with him. He purposely stayed standing. I was tempted to get up and leave entirely, I was so embarrassed and mad. We talked it out after and agreed to disagree on it. Later on, I found another perspective on it... While I don't like what happened, this new boyfriend of mine is the type to fight tooth and nail for what he believes is right... And that may come in handy someday, in that he may be more likely to fight for my benefit or the benefit of our relationship. Months later, we joke about that fight, and he feels bad that he embarrassed me, and he has also shown me many instances where his belief in what is right has benefitted my life in some way, or our relationship.

    1. Simon, I wrote "Forgotten" over three years ago, so I had to read it again (although, to be sure, I still remember this incident vividly and always will).

      Thank you for sharing what happened at the concert between you and your partner. I don't know what I would have done if I'd been in your position, but, judging from your comments so far, you and I are very much alike, and I probably would have done the very same things you did. At any rate, I know I would have been furious with Chris, for having so little consideration for other concertgoers. My feeling embarrassed would only have been a side issue (had he kept standing when I asked him to sit down, I would have pretended, successfully or not, that I didn't know him).

      I appreciate what you said about your partner's willingness to stand up for what he believes in, but I also believe in picking one's battles. I wasn't at that concert, and I'm not you (or your partner, for that matter), but I think there's a time to stand up for what you believe in, and a time not to. I'm not sure that concert, in the way it happened, was the right time, but you know better than me.

      Have you had similar incidents to this one that might lead you to believe your partner is perhaps a little unbending on matters where he should be more flexible? Just curious.

      Thanks for your comment.