Breaking and Entering
the beginning of an affair
Every good first date starts with committing a crime together right? For us, it was breaking and entering or a B&E as we called it around the hood. This is a portion of my first “date” with my “soulmate” from this post:
I had the afternoon off from work but before I could meet him to go walk around the woods and Minnehaha falls, I had a few dogs to walk. I walked dogs for extra money in addition to my regular shifts at the veterinary hospital. I took the dog (Lucy) out for a nice walk. As soon I as I returned, I realized I had left my keys inside on the counter and I shut the door behind me. The handle was locked. I had never locked myself out of a house in the two years I had been walking dogs. My head was somewhere else, distracted and anticipating my first meetup. A couple days of texting had activated the butterflies in my stomach which quickly deactivate my brain cells.
I panicked and started running around the house looking for an open window or back door, anything. I frantically call my new friend. I am going to be late for our first meetup or possibly miss it all together. I explained the situation and he decided to meet me at the house. Luckily for me, my new “friend” was skilled in petty crimes. He took out his old YMCA card, (the same one we would use a few weeks later to cut up blow) and started to slide it into the crack in the door right above the lock. It takes a couple seconds to get the positioning just right. Then, he swipes the card down the door crease like you would in a credit card reader. The door handle disengages and it popped right open. I was so relieved and equally impressed with his skills. It was the first of many crimes we would commit together.
“I can’t believe I just helped you break into a house…a B&E on our first date. Damn girl you are going to be trouble”
“I’m trouble? Wait, this is a date?! You’re the one who can break into houses”
“Well I don’t break into houses for just anyone”
He was already making me feel special. He knew we had grown up very differently. He didn’t look down on me or judge me as a sheltered suburban girl. He didn’t act like I had it so easy and he had it so tough. He didn’t discount my experiences. He respected the things I knew. He had the ability to look much deeper and I let him. I took down the walls and I let him see me for who I was.
I had nothing to lose so I decided to reveal my authentic self right away. I did not feel special because I was getting attention. I felt special because he was treating me like a unique person. He wasn’t grouping me in with other girls he had met. He was impressed by my intelligence and the fact I spoke to him as an equal. I wasn’t better than him even if I came from money and he came from drugs. He saw me as stable, with my life together at only twenty-three years old.
I didn’t treat him like street trash the way everyone else did. I didn’t dumb down my words or thoughts. He asked me questions and actually wanted to hear the answers. He wanted to hear my stupid stories and strong opinions. He welcomed my dorky side. He wanted to hear the kinds of things you only tell people after you’ve really gotten to know them for years. Who admits to pooping their pants as an adult? Me…and him. The more open and honest I was, the more he pressed on to know more. He listened and he cared. He wanted to know me. No one had ever wanted to know me.
Our conversations in that first week were deep. At times, I was surprised how deep considering his tough outward appearance. He opened up about never meeting his biological father. This was a topic I didn’t want to ask about, but he needed to share so I listened with compassion. He was brutally honest about his mom and her deteriorating health. Years of drug and alcohol abuse had left her in liver failure and with edema (fluid built up) in her arms and legs that would turn to horrible infections. It was really upsetting him, watching her die. He didn’t have much (if any) support and he couldn’t breakdown in front of the guys like he could around me.
We were connecting so rapidly and I fell head over heels just like in the movies. I had never liked anyone like this. I had never felt this type of connection; mind, body, and soul. I didn’t know it was possible. I had gotten married for practical reasons to someone I had known forever and felt none of these feelings. He knew, but I had to say it out loud, “I’m married”1. He looked at me with a half smile. “Yes, I know”.
A few days later, we were driving back from lunch where we had been having intense conversations like we had known each other for years. We were at a red light, at the intersection of 42nd & Chicago. He looked over at me and I think it was finally hitting him that I couldn’t be his. I can’t forget that look. Despite the “dates” and deep conversations, I still had to go home. It always ended with me going home.
His eyes were watery. He placed his hand on my thigh and looked deep into my eyes. “I just don’t get it Kerry. I don’t get how you can be caged up, locked away. I would never do that to someone like you. You’re different. This world is your oyster”. We drove the last few blocks to his house in silence. He took my hand and I followed him inside.
We held each other tight and we didn’t let go for years…
I am not proud of my actions despite how I discuss them. A lot of complicated factors were at play and I hope to discuss them in future posts. Please don’t judge me. You never know someone’s full story.
No judgment? When I read that you were going to commit a B and E on your first date my first thought was “Oh, a side of my friend I didn’t know about before this”.
No judgement here, enjoyed reading this Kerry.