First, I say Happy Holidays grudingly, simply because I am no fan of the holidays at all. While I do wish that everyone enjoys their Christmas, New Years, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, etc., I don't particularly like the holidays. Probably won't until I've either gotten over my own issues with the holidays or have children that force me to be into it. Even then, part of me hopes that I can just drop them off with either my mother or the family of their father so I can be left in peace. Long story short, bad things seem to happen around the holidays....to me, to my family, to those I care about....so I'm biased. I treat this Thursday just like any other, well...not any other, because I'd probably be able to go get a decent drink but can't because the bars are closed. I really need one, and the drink I made isn't doing much to stop me from feeling like absolute sh**.
Why do I feel like sh** and need a drink, you ask?
So, I probably had the worst conversation that I've had in my entire life. I told my ex-boyfriend in the most direct and straightforward way possible, feelings being damned, that there was no way possible that we'd end up together. He came by my house to drop off a Christmas gift for my mother last night, and I asked him if we could talk. I'd been dreading this conversation for awhile, and as soon as I realized that it HAD to happen, I was loathing the fact that the cycle would be ended, and by me. Part of me waited for him to tell me that he'd fallen for someone else, that the picture of the two of us in a loving embrace on his nightstand had been replaced by one just as intimate with someone else...anything that did not make me the villian in this conversation. I remember it more vividly than I probably should, him standing in front of me slightly slouching down so I didn't feel quite so small, his eyes fixated on me in a lovingly manner but then looking away just as soon as he felt my eyes on him. It was weird seeing him like that, for the first time vulnerable, unassuming and not confident. He looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders and it was up to me to release him from the burden.
I spoke, softly and calmly. "Look, you and I both know that we go through this cycle with each other. We can't decide whether we love each other or hate each other. It ends up with one of us hurt, one jealous or angry and both of us confused." He swallowed as he looked at the ground and shifted his weight, silently agreeing with my statement. I looked at him, and without his permission, continued. "We've been going through this cycle for years, and I'm just tired. I can't keep doing this with you anymore. I can't keep putting myself out there, waiting for you to figure out what it is you want, only for you to hurt me somehow. It's not healthy and I don't have the strength to keep doing it. And I don't want to." I paused, only because he looked me directly in my face, and it shocked me.
He looked at me, and his eyes were heavy. I'd never noticed that his attitude was patient, something that I'd least expect from him, given from the situation. He cleared his throat as if he was going to speak, but hesitated. I looked at him, and he slid to the ground, almost as if his knees buckled from under him. Instinctively, I went to reach out to him, to comfort him, to touch his face and try to undo the hurt I'd just caused him. But, I realized in an instant that I'd never be free of this cycle so, I just folded my hands and looked at him. If he'd looked up at me in that moment, he'd have had me under his spell...but he didn't. Instead, he spoke two words as if they were the last words I'd ever hear him say, and when he spoke, his voice was strangely unfamiliar because it was wavering and soft, as if he were about to cry. "You're right."
I looked at him, and realized that he was sad. Not just sad, but devastated because he knew the true meaning of my words. He looked up at me and tried to find some level on which to connect with me, but I couldn't look him in the eye. He said, "I know that I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I believe that you deserve better than me. I've just allowed my jealousy and insecurity and doubt of us ruin any potential of something real. And I'm sorry. I'll never forgive myself, even if you do." I slid down on the ground next to him, and in the barely lit living room, my hands found his face. I spoke, being sure to not sound like I was yielding in my stance, and the words formed even before I knew I felt that way. "I already have. But we both deserve not to be in so much pain. Love shouldn't be painful, it should be effortless." He looked at me, finding my eyes this time. "So what we had wasn't love? Is that what you're saying?" I curled my legs under me, watching my lower half move, and I said, "No, what we had was love. It just wasn't the kind of love that could be forever. I want my forever." He kissed my forehead and hugged me close to him. "And I want you to be happy."
Losing myself for a moment in the warm, robust smell of his collar that had been my drug for so long, almost too long, I realized that I do want to be happy. But in that same moment I wondered that if my happiness only lies with him...if all my love would forever belong to him. If my life was simply meant to be an extension of his. I thought back on all the memories I had with him, all the time, counseling, all the time I'd believed that this man, whom I was consoling, was the love of my life. I saw everything, him placing a ring on that all-important finger, us running down a hill hand in hand after our wedding, me looking at him for support as I gave birth to our child, watching him sing that baby a lullaby, laughing at private jokes that we shared, growing old. I even saw the sadness in his eyes as I sighed my final breath, the tears coming from him naturally, and then the tears of our children as he passed on to join me in the afterlife. I saw it all, as he embraced me, and it seemed so intoxicating. But it was not real, it was my idealized vision of how I saw life with him, and it was not true. So, we sat there for a while, quiet and not-moving, and it went without saying that I'd been the stronger of the two of us, even though I'd never known it. It also went without saying that I'd officially let him go.
The rest of the conversation was pretty intense. And pretty personal...so I hope you won't mind if I don't share it. But let's just say that after some discussion, the chapter of Mr. Wonderful is closed. Maybe someday we will be friends, but for now, it's closed.
Thoughts?
*Ashley Robin*
I spoke, softly and calmly. "Look, you and I both know that we go through this cycle with each other. We can't decide whether we love each other or hate each other. It ends up with one of us hurt, one jealous or angry and both of us confused." He swallowed as he looked at the ground and shifted his weight, silently agreeing with my statement. I looked at him, and without his permission, continued. "We've been going through this cycle for years, and I'm just tired. I can't keep doing this with you anymore. I can't keep putting myself out there, waiting for you to figure out what it is you want, only for you to hurt me somehow. It's not healthy and I don't have the strength to keep doing it. And I don't want to." I paused, only because he looked me directly in my face, and it shocked me.
He looked at me, and his eyes were heavy. I'd never noticed that his attitude was patient, something that I'd least expect from him, given from the situation. He cleared his throat as if he was going to speak, but hesitated. I looked at him, and he slid to the ground, almost as if his knees buckled from under him. Instinctively, I went to reach out to him, to comfort him, to touch his face and try to undo the hurt I'd just caused him. But, I realized in an instant that I'd never be free of this cycle so, I just folded my hands and looked at him. If he'd looked up at me in that moment, he'd have had me under his spell...but he didn't. Instead, he spoke two words as if they were the last words I'd ever hear him say, and when he spoke, his voice was strangely unfamiliar because it was wavering and soft, as if he were about to cry. "You're right."
I looked at him, and realized that he was sad. Not just sad, but devastated because he knew the true meaning of my words. He looked up at me and tried to find some level on which to connect with me, but I couldn't look him in the eye. He said, "I know that I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I believe that you deserve better than me. I've just allowed my jealousy and insecurity and doubt of us ruin any potential of something real. And I'm sorry. I'll never forgive myself, even if you do." I slid down on the ground next to him, and in the barely lit living room, my hands found his face. I spoke, being sure to not sound like I was yielding in my stance, and the words formed even before I knew I felt that way. "I already have. But we both deserve not to be in so much pain. Love shouldn't be painful, it should be effortless." He looked at me, finding my eyes this time. "So what we had wasn't love? Is that what you're saying?" I curled my legs under me, watching my lower half move, and I said, "No, what we had was love. It just wasn't the kind of love that could be forever. I want my forever." He kissed my forehead and hugged me close to him. "And I want you to be happy."
Losing myself for a moment in the warm, robust smell of his collar that had been my drug for so long, almost too long, I realized that I do want to be happy. But in that same moment I wondered that if my happiness only lies with him...if all my love would forever belong to him. If my life was simply meant to be an extension of his. I thought back on all the memories I had with him, all the time, counseling, all the time I'd believed that this man, whom I was consoling, was the love of my life. I saw everything, him placing a ring on that all-important finger, us running down a hill hand in hand after our wedding, me looking at him for support as I gave birth to our child, watching him sing that baby a lullaby, laughing at private jokes that we shared, growing old. I even saw the sadness in his eyes as I sighed my final breath, the tears coming from him naturally, and then the tears of our children as he passed on to join me in the afterlife. I saw it all, as he embraced me, and it seemed so intoxicating. But it was not real, it was my idealized vision of how I saw life with him, and it was not true. So, we sat there for a while, quiet and not-moving, and it went without saying that I'd been the stronger of the two of us, even though I'd never known it. It also went without saying that I'd officially let him go.
The rest of the conversation was pretty intense. And pretty personal...so I hope you won't mind if I don't share it. But let's just say that after some discussion, the chapter of Mr. Wonderful is closed. Maybe someday we will be friends, but for now, it's closed.
Thoughts?
*Ashley Robin*
