After that, every dollar earned was pure accumulation.
I started looking at property. Not in Denver, but in places where the cost of living made sense. Found a small house in the mountains 2 hours from Denver, paid cash for it, and had something I actually owned. No mortgage, no landlord. Just property I could return to when I wanted roots.
During one rotation, I got an email from Derek, a mutual friend from Denver who had stayed neutral after the breakup.
He'd run into Presley at a bar. She was seeing someone, a real estate agent who seemed nice but boring, according to Derek. She had asked about me. Whether I was still doing the Arctic job, whether I was seeing anyone.
Derek asked if I wanted him to pass along any message. I told him no. There was nothing to say. That chapter was closed, and I had no interest in reopening it.
I am writing this from a coffee shop in Christchurch, New Zealand.
I just finished my sixth rotation and decided to spend this off month exploring the South Island. Tomorrow, I am driving to Mount Cook, then down to Queenstown, then across to Milford Sound. 3 weeks of seeing landscapes that look like they belong in fantasy films.
Last week, I got an unexpected message from Presley. Not directly, since she is still blocked, but through an intermediary.
Apparently, she heard about the house I bought and wanted to know if I would be interested in reconnecting when I am back in Colorado.
The answer is no, obviously. But it made me think about what happened 18 months ago, and why people keep telling me I was too harsh, too cold, too quick to end things.
Here is what they don't understand.
Presley's ultimatum wasn't about love or commitment, or even about missing me. It was about control. She wanted to dictate my career choices by threatening the relationship. And when that threat didn't work, when I called what she thought was a bluff, she realized she had lost leverage.
If I had turned down the job, we'd still be in that apartment in Denver, still drowning in debt, still arguing about money. And she would know that whenever she wanted me to do something, all she had to do was threaten to leave or cheat, and I'd fold.
That is not a relationship. That is hostage negotiation.
The life I have now wouldn't exist if I had compromised. I'd still be making $95,000, still stressed about bills, still feeling like I was one emergency away from financial collapse.