I told him.

Last night, in the car, on the way back to his place from his gig, I told him.

I feel second to his music.

*Always*.

I was miserable at his gig. I ended up crying by myself in the bathroom, twice.

I vaguely remember thinking: "If this is what this relationship does to me, why am I in it?"

Followed very closely by: "Because I adore him when he's not being a dink, which thankfully, is not the majority of the time."

Loren asked me to go to his gig with him. I said yes; I didn't have anything else to do, and I figured it would be fun.

It wasn't, really.

I spent the entire time watching Loren socialize (he barely introduced me to anyone, and never included me in any of his coversations, nor asked me to go socialize with him; I ended up sitting in a chair, fucking READING for the entire night, while the solstice party whirled around me).

I like parties. I do. I like that lot of people quite well, although I don't really know any of them. They're kind, free-spirited, and don't care about their ages. I saw girls younger than me dancing with men that had to be older than my father, and just dancing, nothing else, for the joy of dancing.

It was heartening.

On the other hand:

"Hey, I'm just going to grab something to eat," says Loren. The buffet table (which I'll note was a fantastic potluck lot) was nearby, within sight. (I may note this is probably the first time he actually sat down with me, instead of pecking me on the lips absently in passing.)

"Alright," I say. I pick up my book.

By that time I was defiantely not in the mood to party. My mood was dark already, but I thought it would get better, because Loren was going to sit with me.

...or not.

Fifteen minutes later, after very patiently waiting for him to get back from the buffet table, I look around.

He's not at the buffet table.

He's not even in the fucking hall.

I'm a little irked, so I pick up my cider (which I will take a moment to note he very kindly bought me, and it was one of my favorite kinds, too) and went looking for him.

He was outside. In the midst of a lively conversation.

"I thought you were just going to get some food," I said lightly, tucking my hand in his back pocket (though I was pretty bitter inside; I really had been waiting for him to come back).

"Yeah, it kind of turned into a smoke," says he, a little sheepishly.

Does that mean he comes back inside to keep me company? Does that mean he tries to include me in his conversation, or introduce me to who ever he's talking to?

No. He goes back to talking. I take my hand out of his back pocket and go inside.

Back to my book.

I don't think he realizes that my book is really a defense mechanism for when I'm not feeling social, or when I'm uncomfortable or out of my place. I mean, it is when I'm at a social event. I like reading on my own, for the pure joy of reading.

I wanted to leave. Hell, halfway through his set I wanted to leave.

It was the same when he was setting up. Now, I understand that he has to set up. I really do. But I was more or less ignored for the whole time. He never asked for a hand. Never introduced me to any of the other people there. Never mentioned to the guy who was talking about the stage lights he should have brought: "Oh, bummer! My girlfriend just took two years of college learning about that very thing, and specialized in lights. We could have gotten *her* to run them."

That might have sparked a conversation with me.

But no. I was left, reading my book.

Autumn was there. She and I and Kristal used to get Kristal's older brother to boot for us when we were underage, then get drunk together in Kristal's basement and wander around the nearby public park (and Kristal would usually trip into the water of her own accord, much to our amusement).

"Hey Rosie! I didn't know you came to these things!" Autumn said as she dropped down next to me. She looked exactly the same, except her hair was dyed a well kept blond and she was wearing heavy eyeshadow (which I admit did suit her eyes and was applied very well).

"Well, I date the guitarist of the first band."

"You date *Loren*? I didn't know that!"

I was surprised. Loren had never mentioned Autumn.

"I hang out at Docker's a lot," she explained. That makes sense. Loren's band plays there a lot. "How long have you two been dating?"

"About a year," I replied. Gods, has it been that long?

"Ohmygawd! That's a long time!" Autumn laughed. "Yeah, I tried to pick him up once, unsuccessfully."

"Oh?" I kind of laughed. Autumn wasn't really Loren's type. "When was that?"

"Oh, like, two years ago," Autumn said kind of absently.

...Loren hadn't been around for two years.

Later on, I mentioned.

"I didn't know you knew Autumn," I said to Loren, poking him in the ribs.

He laughed. Kind of nervously. And gave that wincing face that he does when something scares him.

"Didn't I ever tell you the incident with Autumn?"

Incident? Incident? I don't like incidents. Incidents are bad. Incidents mean things like cheating, or getting groped in a dark corner, or having some female drape herself over my Loren.

(Side note: I hate to say it, but I've become a little jealous when it comes to Loren, ever since the 'incident' a couple months ago, while I was still at college. By nature, I'm not a jealous person.)

"Noooo..." I reply. "You didn't."

"Oh. Well. I gave Autumn a ride home one time after a gig at Docker's and she was trying to grope me and stuff and fondling my face, and I was like: 'Uh, where am I dropping you off?'"

Now, it's not that I really care that she did that, or lied about when it happened (I would have done the same, if I were in her position, and admittedly Loren is *very* cute), what bothered me was Loren never told me about it.

Which started this little voice: "What else hasn't he told you? What has he forgotten to mention?"

And that was the topper on the evening, and set off all the horrible little voices in my head.

Let's see. We couple: being ignored most of the night + Loren forgetting to mention a girl aggressively coming on to him + the fact he has a stack of pictures of ex-girlfriend's in his top desk drawer + he has a beaded hair wrap from his last ex-girlfriend dangling from his rear view mirror + the incident I'd rather not go in to when I was at college + the fact he almost *never* wants to do *anything* sexual and is very reluctant when ever I try to entice him = HOLY INSECURITIES BATMAN.

I wanted to *leave*. I'd been ready to leave for hours.

It was now about 1:30am, and I wanted out of there so bad I could cry.

I knew I had to tell him about my problems. I didn't know if it would make it any better, but I knew I had to tell him.

"You're ready to leave, aren't you?" I told him I was, very much so.

He was very nice, and agreed to leave early (leaving a lot of his fucking precious sound equipment there to be picked up the next day; I feel like he'd rather spend time with his sound board than me half the time, and I very much don't like the be passed over for an inanimate object).

As we were driving to the ferry, he noted that I looked sad.

Sad? SAD? I was fucking MISERABLE. I'd been crying on and off all night.

"What's wrong?"

"It'll sound stupid if I said it." I was suddenly embarassed. It did sound stupid.

"Oh, come on. Just tell me."

"It'll sound stupid."

It went on like this until we crossed the ferry and were on our way home.

I was silent for a long few minutes.

"I feel second to your music," I finally said. "Always."

I don't think he was expecting that and was silent for a long moment.

"I give up a lot of rehursel time for you." Which is true, he does.

"But you *whine* about it."

Another pause. "Is that all?"

"No," I said, and told him about my insecurities that stemmed from the thing with Autumn.

"It makes me wonder what else you haven't told me, or forgot to tell me, or neglected to mention."

"There's nothing else," he said firmly.

"Yes, but how do I *know*?"

"You can't, really," he said quietly. "You just have to trust me."

"I *do* trust you," I said, and I do. "You've never lied to me before." And he hasn't, never that I've caught, or even suspected. He's very good about that.

I told him about how I don't like being left alone in an unfimiliar place, where the only person I kind of know (and whose name I can remember) is Rolph, because he's dating Andrea, who was my neighbour when I was two.

"When I'm at a gig," he said, reasonably, "I feel the need to socialize."

"I *understand* that," I said. "But I don't *know* anyone. I don't like being left alone."

"Did Gale ever come up at talk to you?"

"Who's Gale?!" I said, frustrated.

"What can I do to make it better?" he asked, quietly. (Yes, I did catch a good one, even if he's a bit unattentive and daft at times.)

"Introduce me to people," I replied, a little exasperated. "Take me along when you're socializing. Include me in your conversations."

"I can do that."

I told him it also didn't help that when he was at gigs and I watched girls flirt with him and he never mentions that he has a girlfriend, or points me out.

He says he does. I'll just have to trust him.

"Do you want me to tell you when girls are flirting with me in our relationship?"

"Not normally, no," I said. "I don't care. Only at the level that Autumn was."

If a girl gets physically aggressive in her flirting, I do want to know. But I also want to know he told her to back off because he has a girlfriend.

I'm still unhappy, but I'm not leaving Loren. Maybe I just won't go to his gigs. I don't mind going to his practices because it's not a massively social enviroment and I don't feel left out. I watch tv with the drummer's young son, and play his video games when he goes to bed, and listen to the band in the other room, and when they take breaks, the whole band will talk to me because I know them enough, and I don't feel like a wallflower tag-a-long.

Honestly, it's not just at the gigs, though. I wish he'd take all his ex-girlfriend stuff, the pictures, and that goddamned hair-wrap in his car (even if it *is* pretty) and put it in a box in his closet. I feel like he hasn't let them go, and so can't really completely be *my* boyfriend.

As much as it hurt me, I took all of the things that Mike gave me, and our pictures, and the braid of his hair, and put it in a box, sealed it, and put it in the attic. I don't want to destroy the things; Mike was a big part of my life for a long time and I still care for him as only an ex-girlfriend can. But I had to let him go, and I have, and I couldn't if I kept his gifts and his pictures out and reminding me.

To sum it up in the words of Rolph, which he said at the gig last night after Loren wandered up, absently kissed me, and wandered off again with no more than about three words to me:

"That's it?!"

.

Rosie.

Before&After