Laura Arwood is a senior telecommunications and journalism news major and writes "Knock on ArWood" for the Daily News. Her views do not necessarily agree with those of the newspaper. Write to Laura at llarwood@bsu.edu.
I planned on making a sport of skanky Tinder exchanges, but instead I showed up (invited) on Grizzly Adam’s doorstep, two days into the relationship with an overnight bag, joking, “Oh, by the way, I’m moving in.”
“Fine by me,” he smiled. We’re getting married in 33 days. I didn’t get down on one knee, but I stood in all my vulnerable glory and asked him, “Will you marry me?” And he said yes.
It’s kind of hard to ignore that just a year ago, I was planning a different wedding with a different guy, while I was Facebook-footsying with yet another different guy.
Once a cheater, always a cheater? Well, there’s certainly a pattern.
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I fall in step with a guy who is too nice or too distracted or too high so I pick up an expired friendship or create a new flame with some unsuspecting non-threat. Soon I find myself in an ugly tangle of double feelings, but I’m right at home.
Every relationship I’ve been in resulted in cheating or getting cheated on. I always went back for more, making the same mistakes, feeling the same aches and pains.
My last hoorah was the boss battle of adulterous heartbreak. No one was getting out alive.
Phone numbers saved as female classmate names. Until Grizzly Adams, I just didn’t know love without it. And, god, I am sucker for a life-long marriage love story. Hell, I’ll even settle for a '70s rock band with all the original members. There’s nothing I want more than a life-long struggle to stay together.
I’m in recovery for a lot of things: booze, pills, cutting, religion, bulimia. I think I’ve added infidelity to the list.
I know all 12 of the steps. Change play places, play things and play mates.
If I I desire a quantifiable change, I make quantifiable changes. I threw away slippery friendships, I trashed the guilt trip scoreboard.
Nothing is quite as terrifying as the unfamiliar, nothing is as unfamiliar as the healthy relationship in which I’ve found myself. When tempers rise, the voices lower, curse words leave the room.
Still, I do find myself looking for the too nice, too distracted, too high. Then I tell on myself.
I lean in closer to the warm, honest love I’ve found with Grizzly Adams, willing to weather the storm of recovery.
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