Years
ago, I was in a relationship with a beautiful young lady. She was the second woman that I had ever
fallen in love with, and even to this day, we remain close. We talk or text or communicate in some way
almost every day, but the fact is this – That chapter is now closed.
When I
was with the first girl that I was in love with, the relationship ended
quickly. I was blindsided with that
one. I was with her, then I got on a
plane, and when I called to tell her that I had landed safely, she broke it
off. I never saw it coming. I proceeded
to drink for weeks, and was furious at the world. After my self-loathing induced drunken state
was over, I moved on, because I was still then quite the optimistic chap.
When
the second break up came, a few years ago, I knew it was coming. We both did, even if we didn’t talk about it
much. We still spent lots of time
together, but when she left the state, the relationship died. Then we continued to talk, flirt, spend time
with each other, and take time off from contact several other times. I think that is why this one was so different. There was more pain and regret and drinking
spread out over years, as compared to the intense post break up hate fest of
the first.
Part of
the reason we kept talking and meeting up (when she would visit, or I’d visit
her) was that I was willing to take the pain.
It’s hard to describe, but I’m sure most people reading this
understand. You know it’s done. You know it can’t last forever. You know that weeks of pain will follow the
few days of happiness when you get to hold them in your arms… but you do it
anyway. The short happiness is worth the
pain afterwards. It’s not rational, but
it works.
At some
point, we decided to call it quits for good.
We talk, but none of that flirting that leads to more flirting, which
leads to a trip and kissing/cuddling/loving that keeps the cycle going. Neither of us could really take it
anymore. It wasn’t that we couldn’t
handle the cycle; it’s that the cycle prevented us from moving on to be happy
in our lives, and we both want the other to be happy.
Since,
I’ve dated. I’ve been on good dates,
decent dates, and downright terrible dates.
I’ve had sex, but it was just that – sex (even if some girls meant more
than others, and were fucking awesome people).
In the time that I started dating, there was one girl in particular that
I actually liked. We kissed, made out a
little, but nothing more. She lost
interest, and I have no idea why. I have
no idea if she and I would have dated longer than a few hours, but the opportunity
(however small) was there. Life went on,
but I tell you that, because it was the only time that I got close to moving
out of a cycle that I’m still locked in.
Since, I’ve known women that I could move on with, but part of me keeps
throttling back. It’s not something that
bends to my will. For an extrovert like
myself, it’s the most uncomfortable feeling to not feel comfortable with
someone you want to feel comfortable with.
The
thing is this. I want to move on, and
date someone, and have cuddle time and even fall in love, but I’m not quite
sure if that will happen again. I know
what you will think – “Oh, just wait for the right girl to come along”. Thank you for your words, but we both know
that isn’t how it always works out. Not
for everyone. In some people, something
breaks… something shifts. Some people
lose the ability to open up. Sometimes,
they lose the ability, even if they try so damned hard to open up. For them,
and me, it’s very likely that no one will ever get so close to them that they
will have to risk being hurt again. It
is not that the person can will themselves to open up; it’s that their mind has
locked itself off to protect itself. It
knows that a part of the mind isn’t responsible enough to protect its own
feelings, and takes measures to remove the chance of a repeat. That doesn’t mean that I’m going to stop
trying.
If
anything does come, it will be at the cost of a snail’s pace. That is a high cost, when like so many nights
before, I’ll crawl in my bed alone tonight.
That has become the most hated part of my day.
P.S. This
isn’t an emo cry for help or me whining.
I’m not feeling sorry for myself, and I hate when people feel sorry for
me. It’s simply me accepting how it
is. It is reality, and I don’t shy away
from reality. I do wish it were
different, though.
