1999

It's two in the morning and we're sitting at my kitchen table eating cake. He's drunk. He was out with Rodney and Pete again. He got into town about four this afternoon and instead of coming to see me right away, he went to go see his friends. This isn't unusual. This is normal. He puts his friends above me all the time. He's been gone for two weeks and instead of rushing to my apartment and into my arms, he went drinking with his buddies.

I get it. His job is stressful. It's stressful traveling all the time. It's a stressful business all together. Shane is a powerful young man. He is the son of Vincent McMahon, the principal owner of WWF, the World Wrestling Federation. Shane is next in line to inherit the company and run it. Right now his job is to play the spoiled son on television. He plays it well. He comes across as ruthless and mean; conniving and smart. He has big plans for the Corporation, he tells me about this over another slice of banana cake. His second piece.

My life is boring compared to his. I spend all day in the office, making numbers add up, wasting paper. He spends all day traveling, in important meetings, learning scripts, and schmoozing. I rush home from work every night and wait for his nightly phone call at 9:00. Most of the time he remembers to call. There are a few nights where he will forget to call right at nine and I'll be in tears, holding the phone on my lap, staring at it, willing it to ring. Those are the nights where I'm certain he's forgotten about me and is in the arms of another woman. Those are also the nights where he ends up calling at midnight, drunk, spewing sweet drunken words of love. "Baby, I love you so much. I wish you were here right now." He tells me that he wants me to travel with him, to be with him all the time, to share in his exciting life. But when I bring it up when he's sober, hi tune changes almost immediately. "Baby, that's not a good idea. I'm so busy with everything, we would hardly get the chance to see each other. It wouldn't be fair to you. I can't ask you to give up your job either. The way things are right now are just fine. We're at a good place right now."

We're anywhere but a good place right now. I'm ready to bolt. We've been together three years now. In fact, our three year anniversary was last week and he never mentioned it. So I didn't bring it up either. He's busy, I get it. I just assume that he forgot and that he'll remember in the next day or so and feel really bad and make it up to me. I did something I'm not proud of; I talked to his sister about him. I know, I know. I shouldn't get Steph involved. But I needed someone to talk to and the three girlfriends that I did have were out of the question since their "incident" with Shane.

"He forgot our anniversary."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry…..Are you sure he forgot? He's been pretty busy. Maybe he just hasn't had time to call and-"

"No, he called on our anniversary. He didn't say one word about it. He was even sober when he called."

"What a jerk."

"Yeah well, he's my jerk, I guess…."

She wasn't much help. She was just as busy with the company as he was and was traveling all the time too. We used to be really close. That's how I met Shane, in fact. She introduced us. So I guess I could blame all my heartache on her.

"Do you want some coffee?" I asked Shane as I cut him his third piece of cake. He nods. He's about to pass out.

"Are you pissed off at me, babe?" he asks. I haven't said much to him since he's been here. I've been mostly listening with a scowl on my face. It's not that I'm not happy to see him. I just wish I had a normal boyfriend with a normal job who came to visit me at normal hours instead of in the middle of the night to eat cake and then to have sex. His voice has a slight slur to it. He needs coffee.I need to wake him up so we can talk. Yes, I'm pissed. I'm angry. I'm upset. I'm heartbroken. I'm a million different things right now and I want to talk about it.

"A little…..Did you forget something last week?" I ask softly as I pour him a cup of strong coffee. I don't care that's it's almost two thirty in the morning. I want him awake. I want him to sober up.

"I don't think so."

I set the coffee up down in front of him and take a seat next to him. Tears fill my eyes. He honestly and truly forgot?

He notices the tears welling up in my eyes. I turn away from him. "Baby? What's the matter? What did I forget?" He puts his arm around me. I immediately try to shrug him off.

"I can't believe you forgot. I can't do this anymore, Shane." I shrug him off again and stand up. I can't be near him right now so I walk over to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup.

"Whoa, slow down, Ash. What exactly did I forget and what exactly can't you do anymore?" He's sobering up quickly now.

"You. You forgot our anniversary and I don't think I can do this anymore."

"This? This? What do you mean, this? You can't do what? You're not a child, Ash, speak your mind!" Now he was getting upset.

"Jesus Christ, Shane. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Apparently you do, because I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Last week was our three year anniversary and you totally forgot about it. You called me that night and didn't even say anything about it! How do you think that makes me feel? I'll tell you how it makes me feel, it makes me feel like crap! And I'm tired of feeling like crap when it comes to you, Shane!" I was shouting now. I didn't give a shit that it was quarter to three in the morning on a Thursday. I was pissed. I was going to have it out with him one way or another.

"Shit….."

"That's all you have to say?!"

"No, baby, I'm sorry!" He gets off his chair and comes over to me. I'm leaning against the kitchen sink, head down, trying to hold back my tears. He puts his hands on either side of hips and leans in close. "I'm really sorry," he whispers as he leans in and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. "So sorry," he murmurs in my right ear. He runs his hand up and down my left arm. "I can't believe I forgot. Please don't be done."

"I don't know, Shane. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Half the time it doesn't even feel like you're my boyfriend. It feels like you're just some guy that comes over every two weeks, drunk, and eats cake in my kitchen at two in the morning."

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

I've heard that before, but I've never seen it.