Saying I'm sorry has never been my strong point. Wait. Saying I'm sorry comes pretty naturally, but actually being sorry is a whole other ball game. I always say I'm sorry if I'm late for work. I say I'm sorry when I'm sitting in the drive-thru at McDonald's for the 10th time in a week because my children are starving and I didn't go to the market. And, I say sorry when a girl I don't especially like is dating someone fabulous and I'm not, so I accidentally let it slip that she's a real slut and has an inner thigh rash that's pretty suspect. But really being sorry and feeling true remorse for my actions is something I've made a career out of dodging.
Until now.
Now I'm in love and I'm freaking out! So, what do I do? I go on autopilot and start getting in my own way. I act jealous, petty and insecure; hell, half the time I can't even stand to be around me. I literally look for problems where there are none and then try to create them so I can drive him away. I'm a chaos junky! God forbid I should just allow myself to be happy. How he handles it I don't understand. But this time I was rude, I was hurtful, I acted like a complete maniac! And, when I attempted a bit of chick-trickery and tried to turn things around in a feeble attempt to make him think it was all his fault, I failed miserably. Now I had to resort to good old-fashioned begging for forgiveness, Plan No. 1-A in the chick-trickery handbook.
When I picked up the phone to call him, four days after I'd made an ass of myself, I decided just to say the words, "I'm sorry." It sounded lame even to me, so I added, "I blew it. It won't happen again. It was all my fault. I'm a toad. Please forgive me. I love you. I don't want to lose you." Perfect. Humility is good. Men are suckers for humility. If it didn't work, I'd resort to chick-trick No. 1-B: Start crying. I was gearing up to make my big apology when he threw a wrench into my plans. After seeing my name on his caller ID, he picked up the phone and said those three little words that catch every woman off guard: "You've got issues!"
For once, I didn't get defensive. Instead I said, "And you're just figuring that out now? What are you, new?" I giggled.
Nothing. He wasn't biting. OK. So, humor was out of the question. Back to plan A. "Jay, baby, I'm sorry. I was a jerk. I don't want—"
"To wreck what we have? And what do we have? If we don't have trust, we don't have anything. Look, Sonja, I'm sorry you've been hurt in the past—who hasn't? But you can't make me pay for other guys' dumb-ass mistakes. I'm not like them." Yeah, like I've never heard that one before. "I love you, but you can only push someone so far before you push them away completely. Every time I think we're making progress, you try to run away. I've got to be honest, I'm getting a little tired of chasing."
Whoa! This was serious. He'd been thinking this through and by the sound of it, he wasn't exactly leaning in my direction. I started to panic. I may be a self-destructive, narcissistic flake who lives in fear of her own true happiness, but for all my faults, I don't really want to lose him. A siren went off in my head: Initiate Plan No. 1-B immediately! I started to cry. Nothing. He wasn't biting. Crap! This was going to call for the heavy artillery. He said he was going surfing and that he'd be gone for a few hours. He said he had a lot to think about and suggested I do the same. He said he'd call me when he was done and we would discuss what direction, if any, we wanted to go in.
I had no intention of sitting around, chewing my nails down to a bloody nub and waiting for his call. I had to act fast! Had to initiate Plan No. 1-A-A: When all else fails, use sex.
The problem with a geographically undesirable, long distance relationship is that it makes it 10 times harder to just jump in your car dressed in something sexy and drive to his place to tempt him with the goods. Now there were traffic issues,plane reservations and taxicab fare to deal with. But I wasn't going to be stopped. I would show him how much he means to me. I'd show up, surprise him, be whimsical and sweet and vulnerable and he'd forgive me. Wouldn't he?
It took some doing, but three hours later I was in his apartment wearing the sweetest little pink baby-doll teddy and six-inch, stiletto, thigh high metallic boots that I'd borrowed from my neighbor, Trixie the stripper. There was a T-bone in the oven and bottle of champagne on ice. When I heard him coming up the stairs, I positioned myself just so on the living room sofa holding a sign that read simply: I'm sorry!
Plane fare: $198.00
Taxicab: $37.00
T-Bone Steaks: $28.00
Fine Champagne: $10.99
Look on boyfriend's face when he walks in and finds long-distance girlfriend dressed like a hooker announcing that it's 'National Steak and a Hum-Vee Day': Priceless.
As we made love that night, our souls seemed to melt together infusing us as we simultaneously erupted into ecstasy. He took me to a place I'd never been before. Make-up sex rules! And, as I laid in his arms, basking in the afterglow, he took my face in his hands and covered it with warm, wet kisses and whispered in my ear the three words I longed to hear: "You're so forgiven."
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?