During this same month of love, I also had to extricate myself from my ex-relationship. Practically and emotionally.
Fortunately I’d never given up my own apartment, so I wasn’t stranded. I ran in to fetch my few belongings from Ex’s place while he was at work. It was a sad act filled with finality, but I rushed through it like someone possessed. When I realised that I’d packed up everything of mine and fit it into the boot of my car within 30 minutes, it confirmed just how separate our lives had actually been. I felt a huge sense of loss, but more for the barren years gone before than for this ending now.
I saw Ex-boyfriend a few times, it was always heartbreaking. He looked like a stranger to me. So stiff and formal, unsure and insecure. He wrote me a letter in which it seemed that he understood more of the why than I gave him credit for.
He was sorry and ready to change and wanted to try again. I felt completely numb. The nearest emotion I could identify towards him was regret. He was not a bad person; he had so much to offer. It was just too late and I’d left the building a long time ago.
I went to our last scheduled counselling session alone, and told the therapist everything. I started by saying that my head was all messy and confused, that I wasn’t thinking straight and needed some guidance. I thought he would urge caution; register surprise and distress at the break-up. But by the end of the hour he told me he’d never seen me so clear-headed and vibrant. That I should take this happy infatuation and run with it. He didn’t want to see me again, I was ‘cured’.
Now I still don’t know if the nature of that session confirms that we pay shrinks to tell us what we want to hear, or if this therapist had secretly been thinking that my relationship with Ex was doomed from the start and this was the best outcome for everyone. Maybe I’ll ask him one day.
Showing posts with label the ex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the ex. Show all posts
Monday, September 8, 2008
Saturday, September 6, 2008
8. a little weary
Now this might sound completely heartless, but there’s no point in me blogging my true love story and then lying about the harsh details.
I drove away from now X-boyfriend, switched on my phone and carried on crying as I opened a message from Beautiful Boy. “Need some comic relief? I have just the solution for you! Beautiful Boy is available next week on Monday through Sunday. Please book ahead to avoid disappointment. ;-)”
I’d just broken someone’s heart. I felt so guilty. As if all I deserved was to drive home and spend a week crying by myself before I’d be allowed to see anyone or carry on with my life in any way. Surely I wasn’t allowed to smile like this? Surely I wasn’t allowed to call his number? But I did.
He answered immediately, expectant and excited, a little weary. We talked for a while, but I can’t remember a word we said. I felt so disconnected from myself, my wishes, my needs, I just wanted someone to tell me what to do. He told to come see him, that we would talk. At the end of the phone call, all I knew was that I was driving towards my friend, the Beautiful Boy.
I drove away from now X-boyfriend, switched on my phone and carried on crying as I opened a message from Beautiful Boy. “Need some comic relief? I have just the solution for you! Beautiful Boy is available next week on Monday through Sunday. Please book ahead to avoid disappointment. ;-)”
I’d just broken someone’s heart. I felt so guilty. As if all I deserved was to drive home and spend a week crying by myself before I’d be allowed to see anyone or carry on with my life in any way. Surely I wasn’t allowed to smile like this? Surely I wasn’t allowed to call his number? But I did.
He answered immediately, expectant and excited, a little weary. We talked for a while, but I can’t remember a word we said. I felt so disconnected from myself, my wishes, my needs, I just wanted someone to tell me what to do. He told to come see him, that we would talk. At the end of the phone call, all I knew was that I was driving towards my friend, the Beautiful Boy.
Friday, September 5, 2008
7. just too hard
From the moment we set off on our weekend away, I knew it was over.
I sat next to Boyfriend in his fancy car, wondering when it had actually ended.
During the two-hour trip I think we had three conversations. None of which lasted very long.
We stopped along the way to walk on a beach. It was cold and forlorn and we had nothing to say. The reasons for my extensive unhappiness were ticking over in my mind one by one. My head was so full of the end I couldn’t open my mouth.
We went out to dinner in silence. This was not unusual for us. I wondered if he realised anything was wrong. He suggested a quiet, romantic restaurant; I balked and went into the noisy pub next to it. I pushed my dinner around on my plate, waiting for the moment when we were back at the guesthouse so we could talk in private.
Once we were settled in front of the fireplace in our room, he brought out a wine cooler. Inside it was bottle of red wine. I felt a rush of mixed emotions. Not champagne. Wine.
I opened my mouth and started to tell him why it was over.
I spoke for hours.
We went to sleep.
We got up, spent another few hours talking and crying and I was explaining and apologising and he was hurt and confused and I said that’s the point.
We just don’t understand each other. We just don’t fit. It’s just too hard.
I’m sorry.
The drive back home was long and distressing and quiet.
I finally dropped him off at his place and drove away, watching as he grew small in the rear view mirror.
It was awful.
I sat next to Boyfriend in his fancy car, wondering when it had actually ended.
During the two-hour trip I think we had three conversations. None of which lasted very long.
We stopped along the way to walk on a beach. It was cold and forlorn and we had nothing to say. The reasons for my extensive unhappiness were ticking over in my mind one by one. My head was so full of the end I couldn’t open my mouth.
We went out to dinner in silence. This was not unusual for us. I wondered if he realised anything was wrong. He suggested a quiet, romantic restaurant; I balked and went into the noisy pub next to it. I pushed my dinner around on my plate, waiting for the moment when we were back at the guesthouse so we could talk in private.
Once we were settled in front of the fireplace in our room, he brought out a wine cooler. Inside it was bottle of red wine. I felt a rush of mixed emotions. Not champagne. Wine.
I opened my mouth and started to tell him why it was over.
I spoke for hours.
We went to sleep.
We got up, spent another few hours talking and crying and I was explaining and apologising and he was hurt and confused and I said that’s the point.
We just don’t understand each other. We just don’t fit. It’s just too hard.
I’m sorry.
The drive back home was long and distressing and quiet.
I finally dropped him off at his place and drove away, watching as he grew small in the rear view mirror.
It was awful.
6. boyfriend v not boyfriend
While I was in turmoil, the weekend with Boyfriend approached. I was numbed by the sheer volume and speed of emotions running through me, exhausted by the constant debate in my head. Not Boyfriend v Beautiful Boy.
Just Boyfriend v not Boyfriend.
On the Friday I sent out an SOS to my two best friends. We met for lunch; I burst into tears and confessed all. They didn’t know what to say. Boyfriend and I were the one unchanging concept in our ever-changing worlds. We’d always stuck together through every hard thing and now suddenly, I was ready to pack it all in? The only (and the best) advice they could give me, was to go on my weekend and allow myself the space to see what would transpire.
They also brought up the possibility of a proposal over the weekend, which brought fresh sobs from me. A week ago I sometimes thought that would be the answer to all my woes, now I couldn’t imagine anything worse.
Sensible Jewel (who’d introduced me to Boyfriend all those years ago, incidentally) left first, which gave romantic Nightingale a quick opportunity to say: “If you feel you need to speak to Beautiful Boy, I think you should call him, you know?”
Fifteen minutes later I was on the phone to him and we had a very light, pleasant, friendly conversation. It made me feel better. Just knowing that he was my friend regardless. There was an unspoken understanding between us that this was how it would be until I changed anything.
Just Boyfriend v not Boyfriend.
On the Friday I sent out an SOS to my two best friends. We met for lunch; I burst into tears and confessed all. They didn’t know what to say. Boyfriend and I were the one unchanging concept in our ever-changing worlds. We’d always stuck together through every hard thing and now suddenly, I was ready to pack it all in? The only (and the best) advice they could give me, was to go on my weekend and allow myself the space to see what would transpire.
They also brought up the possibility of a proposal over the weekend, which brought fresh sobs from me. A week ago I sometimes thought that would be the answer to all my woes, now I couldn’t imagine anything worse.
Sensible Jewel (who’d introduced me to Boyfriend all those years ago, incidentally) left first, which gave romantic Nightingale a quick opportunity to say: “If you feel you need to speak to Beautiful Boy, I think you should call him, you know?”
Fifteen minutes later I was on the phone to him and we had a very light, pleasant, friendly conversation. It made me feel better. Just knowing that he was my friend regardless. There was an unspoken understanding between us that this was how it would be until I changed anything.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
5. 8/10
Infidelity is a big word. And I don’t claim that the time I spent with the Beautiful Boy that night is not contained in that big word.
I spent the next two days in a haze of emotional confusion. I went to work, saw Boyfriend, spoke to friends as usual but my mind would not stop going over everything we’d said and shared that night.
Suddenly, the ‘truths’ I’d always held about relationships seemed senseless.
I’d always been the one to urge compromise, hard work, allowances and understanding when friends had relationship issues. I was famous for my 8 day rule: believing that if you’re happy enough in your relationship 8 days out of 10 then you should count your blessings. I thought 8/10 was being generous. Now, it appeared to me that there might be someone who could just possibly, theoretically, make me feel fulfilled in our relationship 9.9 days out of 10?
The old cynic in me scoffed at this, and I won’t blame you if you do too. I knew that almost anyone could appear ideal after just one night and that my judgement would be clouded by physical attraction. I also knew that the Boy was leaving for the States in another month, that he was a few years younger than me and didn’t have much long-term relationship experience. I knew that even if I could bring myself to leave Boyfriend after a decade together, it wouldn’t be a good idea to jump straight into another relationship at all.
All these reasons and a million more, but I could not deny what was happening in my heart. Where before I’d been resigned, accepting, placated to my fate, to a relationship that was stable but joyless, to a life of daily compromise and constant appeasement, I now saw a window into an alternate future. A love built on shared thoughts, mutual needs, combined energies. An easy fit.
Compatibility. An even bigger word.
I spent the next two days in a haze of emotional confusion. I went to work, saw Boyfriend, spoke to friends as usual but my mind would not stop going over everything we’d said and shared that night.
Suddenly, the ‘truths’ I’d always held about relationships seemed senseless.
I’d always been the one to urge compromise, hard work, allowances and understanding when friends had relationship issues. I was famous for my 8 day rule: believing that if you’re happy enough in your relationship 8 days out of 10 then you should count your blessings. I thought 8/10 was being generous. Now, it appeared to me that there might be someone who could just possibly, theoretically, make me feel fulfilled in our relationship 9.9 days out of 10?
The old cynic in me scoffed at this, and I won’t blame you if you do too. I knew that almost anyone could appear ideal after just one night and that my judgement would be clouded by physical attraction. I also knew that the Boy was leaving for the States in another month, that he was a few years younger than me and didn’t have much long-term relationship experience. I knew that even if I could bring myself to leave Boyfriend after a decade together, it wouldn’t be a good idea to jump straight into another relationship at all.
All these reasons and a million more, but I could not deny what was happening in my heart. Where before I’d been resigned, accepting, placated to my fate, to a relationship that was stable but joyless, to a life of daily compromise and constant appeasement, I now saw a window into an alternate future. A love built on shared thoughts, mutual needs, combined energies. An easy fit.
Compatibility. An even bigger word.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
2. friendship
I didn't allow it at the time, of course. I carried on talking as a friend, partied as a friend, said goodbye as a friend and went home with Boyfriend. I didn't let myself think about the DVD and his gorgeous smile and his ever-present laugh. I was sure I could forget the way it felt as if my heart just dropped when I watched that gorgeous smile and heard that ever-present laugh.
Over the next month a friendship grew. There were plenty of parties and socials that kept bringing the group together and multiple reasons for us to be in touch. One evening when we'd all met for another birthday celebration, Beautiful Boy and I had so much to say to each other that we ended up being the last two friends at the bar. As we were discussing my long-term relationship and the benefits of being committed to someone for such a long time, I didn't feel guilty or in the wrong.
Then Beautiful Boy suddenly got up and announced the end of the evening. He didn't even walk me to my car.
Phew! I felt lucky that I'd obviously mastered my supposed feelings for him (or at least hidden them well) and he had none for me. Life could carry on as before.
A twinge of disappointment was unceremoniously suppressed.
Our mutual friends had noticed this 'absolutely platonic' friendship forming, and tongues were wagging. No one said anything to me but Beautiful Boy was called up and made to answer for flirting so outrageously with a girl who was "about to get married". Boyfriend and I were in therapy partly to figure out why we DIDN’T want to get married. To each other. But after ten years together everyone was just waiting for it I guess.
So Beautiful Boy retracted somewhat from our intense chats and I reasoned that our relationship was finding its balance somewhere between flirty and friendly. Which suited me just fine. I was busy enough sorting through an emotional wasteland with Boyfriend and had no time to contemplate new friendships with beautiful boys.
Over the next month a friendship grew. There were plenty of parties and socials that kept bringing the group together and multiple reasons for us to be in touch. One evening when we'd all met for another birthday celebration, Beautiful Boy and I had so much to say to each other that we ended up being the last two friends at the bar. As we were discussing my long-term relationship and the benefits of being committed to someone for such a long time, I didn't feel guilty or in the wrong.
Then Beautiful Boy suddenly got up and announced the end of the evening. He didn't even walk me to my car.
Phew! I felt lucky that I'd obviously mastered my supposed feelings for him (or at least hidden them well) and he had none for me. Life could carry on as before.
A twinge of disappointment was unceremoniously suppressed.
Our mutual friends had noticed this 'absolutely platonic' friendship forming, and tongues were wagging. No one said anything to me but Beautiful Boy was called up and made to answer for flirting so outrageously with a girl who was "about to get married". Boyfriend and I were in therapy partly to figure out why we DIDN’T want to get married. To each other. But after ten years together everyone was just waiting for it I guess.
So Beautiful Boy retracted somewhat from our intense chats and I reasoned that our relationship was finding its balance somewhere between flirty and friendly. Which suited me just fine. I was busy enough sorting through an emotional wasteland with Boyfriend and had no time to contemplate new friendships with beautiful boys.
Monday, September 1, 2008
1. in the beginning
A little more than a year ago, I had a boyfriend. For a very long time.
We'd been together since school and had spent more than ten years together.
He didn't always treat me with all the respect and affection I needed.
I'd cheated on him more than once.
We weren't in love anymore.
We were trying to keep it together.
(Why?)
We went for counselling.
I was needy and sad and sorry and he was cold and sad and untrusting. We lived very separate lives.
In my separate life I was happy and successful and had plenty of fabulous, interesting friends to do all kinds of fabulous, fun things with. One day at the end of summer, I met a Fashionista friend for sunset drinks at a beautiful hotel bar on the oceanfront. Fashionista brought another friend. An intelligent, optimistic, generous, charming, laughing, tall, beautiful boy.
I really liked this boy. But he lived far away and was only visiting on holidays. I was relieved to hear this. I wouldn't have to think about this beautiful boy or get to know him better or wonder what it would be like to have a boyfriend who is such a beautiful boy...
A month later, the naughty Beautiful Boy was in my hometown again. At Fashionista's birthday party, which I was attending with my boyfriend. Beautiful Boy was still laughing, still beautiful. I giggled with a single Careergirl friend about how cute he was and told her to pursue him. Then I spent the next couple of hours thinking about him and getting to know him a bit and almost wondering what it would be like...
Later in the evening he played a DVD of him skydiving. I stood in a small crowd, watching the visuals while the party music kept playing out loud. There he was on the screen: smiling nervously, looking vulnerable, acting brave, jumping, screaming, falling, laughing, laughing, laughing all the way.
By the end of it, I was in love.
We'd been together since school and had spent more than ten years together.
He didn't always treat me with all the respect and affection I needed.
I'd cheated on him more than once.
We weren't in love anymore.
We were trying to keep it together.
(Why?)
We went for counselling.
I was needy and sad and sorry and he was cold and sad and untrusting. We lived very separate lives.
In my separate life I was happy and successful and had plenty of fabulous, interesting friends to do all kinds of fabulous, fun things with. One day at the end of summer, I met a Fashionista friend for sunset drinks at a beautiful hotel bar on the oceanfront. Fashionista brought another friend. An intelligent, optimistic, generous, charming, laughing, tall, beautiful boy.
I really liked this boy. But he lived far away and was only visiting on holidays. I was relieved to hear this. I wouldn't have to think about this beautiful boy or get to know him better or wonder what it would be like to have a boyfriend who is such a beautiful boy...
A month later, the naughty Beautiful Boy was in my hometown again. At Fashionista's birthday party, which I was attending with my boyfriend. Beautiful Boy was still laughing, still beautiful. I giggled with a single Careergirl friend about how cute he was and told her to pursue him. Then I spent the next couple of hours thinking about him and getting to know him a bit and almost wondering what it would be like...
Later in the evening he played a DVD of him skydiving. I stood in a small crowd, watching the visuals while the party music kept playing out loud. There he was on the screen: smiling nervously, looking vulnerable, acting brave, jumping, screaming, falling, laughing, laughing, laughing all the way.
By the end of it, I was in love.
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