When David Met Halley

A story about rules, how every one of them went out the window, and how David now takes rules and healthy boundaries much more seriously.

If you ask David:

Let me tell you a story about rules, and how mine completely went out the window when I met Halley. And dear lord do we sure value rules now, don't we, David?

We sure do.

Rules, healthy boundaries, they matter. They're everything, really.

Instead of having healthy boundaries, I:

Agreed to say “I love you” at an off-brand Panda Express at LAX after dating for three weeks to appease her/manage her emotions/she was wanting to say it/I was feeling it but not nearly ready/to soothe my own anxiety.

Went along with an idea for a wedding that felt grandiose and performative when I would’ve preferred a more intimate ceremony but I wasn’t that opinionated about it (turns out that not having an opinion IS having an opinion).

Good Partner TM

Wanted to be a Good PartnerTM by agreeing to a bunch of remodels that I didn’t want, and subsequently agreeing to supervise them while working a full-time job. This was when I compromised my health, working 16-hour days for months. While Halley stayed home and “job-hunted” (watched Vanderpump Rules).

Didn’t think it was a major red flag those dozens of nights Halley and I would be brushing our teeth together, I’d step out for a glass of water, come back to find her slumped over in the sink because the Xywav had just kicked, and instead I’d just carry her limp body to bed, yet again.

—

There were never health issues. Major ones, anyway. There was a suspicion that Audrey might possibly have minor Alzheimers. Everyone in Audrey’s family coped with the uncertainty just fine. Halley fell into a hole. And like the Good PartnerTM I was, I crawled right in there with her. Took on the emotional labor of the relationship in addition to the household and financial. And then, get this, the blood test was NEGATIVE for Alzheimers!

One night I got a call. Halley was distraught. I drove home from run club where I’d been catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in months. Grabbed her favorite Oreo McFlurry on my way.

“What’s happening, sweetie?”

“The doctor said they don’t have any news yet.”

“And?”

And that was it. Left my one lifeline for “no news.”

—

For some people, the terminal illness of a loved one is the greatest gift they could ever receive. A moment of clarity. A reminder of the limited time we have left on this planet. An opportunity to make the last, precious years of that loved one the best they’ve had.

For Halley, it was “what is this going to do to ME.” Me me me. It was showing up, crying, every day, to Audrey’s. And I fully enabled that.

“Hey, your mom likes walking? Maybe the Japanese Garden? I’ll cover doing the dishes and getting dinner and arranging those contractors and doing my full-time job and cleaning the yard while I finish this attic remodel and help your mom with tech support for 10 hours a week to facilitate this for you because I know how much she means to you. No? Just going to show up and cry all day again? Okay. Valid. I’ll validate your feelings again. McFlurry?”

So I have boundaries now. I unknowingly spent much of my life not believing I was a good person. Seeking external validation. I showed up to relationships willing to give EVERYTHING for that. And the only woman who would ever take me up on that would be a Halley. Someone with deep abandonment trauma who would misinterpret this “niceness” as a way to fill that unfillable, insatiable void.

I’ve since learned that no one owes me anything. And vice versa.

And what an immense relief, this simple realization has been.

—

So no, it wasn’t Audrey’s health. It was that we thought we were perfect for each other. And we were, in fact, terrible for each other.