Saying goodbye to a 13-year relationship must be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and in fact, I don’t think I’ve fully said goodbye to it yet,
or him,
and maybe I never will, I thought, the other day, when I started following him again on Instagram, because can we be *over it* already?, and spent the night crying when he didn’t follow me back.
But while I’m figuring this out, goodbyes to the men that came next have been getting easier every time and I’m wondering if it’s something you learn only by doing.
The first next opportunity to say goodbye to a man came way sooner than I wanted,
so I didn’t,
and instead tolerated toxic cycles of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ because I simply had to – I had to – live through whatever adventure this man had to offer, until he got me so anxious that when the cycle turned to ‘no’ again, I took it as my exit strategy but still cried for days when he blocked me everywhere and got back together with the ex he had described to me as toxic and manipulative.
It took a while before I found another man, but when I did, I decided it would just be for pleasure,
not attachment,
but it still hurt my feelings that he never invited me to his house, never wanted me in his space, so when one time he responded late to one of my invitations, I took it as my cue to leave, and when months later, I awkwardly ran into him and he finally, finally, invited me over to his place for ‘a drink’ – whenever you want, okay? Let me know – I said yes,
fun,
I’ll let you know,
knowing full well I won’t.
Next was the incredibly gorgeous man, the one I’d happily spend all day walking next to on the beach, enjoying the certainty that people are admiring him
and envying me.
The one with whom it was clear from the beginning that we were never going to be boyfriend and girlfriend, but who still wanted a personal connection with me and with that he meant that he could burden me with all his sorrows without ever having the space for mine. He got angry when I called him out on it, saying I already told you I don’t have time for a girlfriend and how dare I ask him for a hey, good luck with your competition today, so without a warning I got up and left and removed him from my life entirely.
For a while I considered still sending him the gift I had bought him for his job promotion, as some kind of toxic excuse to pick up the conversation again,
say sorry for things I wasn’t sorry for,
just to not have to sit with the hurt of losing an otherwise really good – and certainly goodlooking – man, but thank God I returned to sanity and didn’t and wrapped the gift for myself.
And then there was the married man, the yes, but you don’t understand, my marriage is long over-man, the I’m divorcing her, but only if I can be really sure you want to be with me instead-man.
He couldn’t be really sure,
because I wasn’t really sure,
at all,
but he was the first man after a long time I could actually see myself with, the first maybe I should not let this one escape-man, and not because he made me feel special-enough-to-leave-a-family-for, but because we were actually compatible, because he actually took care of me in ways I want a man to take care of me, because him and me actually seemed to make sense.
Until I realized I don’t believe in love that lasts forever, so whatever he was doing to his wife he would some day be doing to me.
We met up early in the morning one day at a place I knew he only chose because there would be nobody we know and so nobody we know would see us and would tell other people we know. He returned to me a sad, plastic supermarket bag with some of my stuff I had left in his car
– not his house –
and I gave him the present I bought him as a thank you for picking me up at the airport last week, in the middle of the night, to bring me home safely,
which he never did, because that particular night,
his wife was feeling unwell.
Support mijn schrijven met een:
