Posts Tagged ‘Love’

He expected mayhem, anger and accusations. He assumed the worst, and it proved in the end that he really doesn’t know me. I told him that the last 14 months have been an example of his ordering the entree and only eating the garnish. He never took a bite of the main dish, only looked at it, pushed it around with his fork and decided that it would cause him indigestion if he ate it. You see, it never was about me, any of it.

Trying to love someone who doesn’t love themselves, who doesn’t trust themselves, and who is an eternal pessimist at their core, well, it’s pretty tricky and apparently, doesn’t usually succeed. It is  impossible to show them how worthy they are, they need to find it and feel it in themselves.  He told me a story of himself as a child, to illustrate how long he has been this way; I explained that at some point though, we do have the power to make positive changes to our thinking patterns. That I was a very angry teenager and into my 20’s. It took a lot of work, and sometimes falling back into old patterns, but eventually I was able to look at things and see the positive in life, see how anger was affecting me and limiting me and shutting me off.

He told me that everything ends, and usually badly. That he hasn’t seen examples of it working, of there not being heartbreak, of him not being the cause.  Boy with a fragile sense of self enters the dating world and is eaten alive. Now, at 39, he is so deeply imbedded into a pattern of belief that everything he touches, everyone he touches, will break. How do you convince someone otherwise? How do you hold someones hand and show them that they deserve to not be alone. They deserve to let someone in and be loved. How do you do that, when they don’t believe in their core self that they are worthy of any love and that anyone who does love them, surely they must be fooled.

We had 5 hours of intense, heart-felt conversation. He teared up, I teared up. I told him somethings that he missed while he was pushing me away, things I had told him but he hadn’t heard above his own inner chatter. He apologized deeply, as he realized that he really dropped the ball more than a few times. What it came down to is that his disordered thinking, his disordered sense of self, his belief that he isn’t worthy of anyone’s love and respect because everyone is being fooled and eventually everyone will realize who he really is and then it will all explode, all of THIS is what is standing between he and I. Looking into his eyes and telling him how wonderful he is and forcing him to look back at me as I told him what I saw in him, the level of disbelief in his own eyes, the degree to which he can’t see how amazing and loveable he is, that is what is heartbreaking.

I asked him, what does he have left, if tomorrow the career were to end. Nothing he said. He has nothing outside of work. Friendships have been kept at a distance, mostly built through his colleagues. He has his cat. I told him that it truly doesn’t need to be that way. That letting people in doesn’t have to result in destruction, yet he has only ever walked away feeling destroyed each time he has let someone in.  But he has the best of intentions, when he begins. He just can’t do it.

My flatmate came home and we moved our conversation to the bedroom. Later in the evening I looked up at him and asked me if he would be with me one last time. I felt so connected to him at that moment, I just wanted to hold on to it. He wouldn’t look at me, instead mumbling that he didn’t think it was a good idea. I asked him to look at me and repeated my question, asking if he wanted to be with me one last time. He said yes. We had an intensely passionate last few hours, we held each other tightly afterwards and slept for an hour, curled into each other, hands touching. In my hallway, we hugged. Longer and tighter and with more emotion than I have ever felt from him. He thanked me for everything. I told him that while I knew he wouldn’t, he knew where to find me, if ever…

Last night was the most senseless loss I have ever experienced. All because one little boy grew up thinking he was inherently not worth loving. If any of you have kids, please, love them. Let them know that they deserve it and that they are wonderful and unique and amazing. Otherwise, at 39, they may not be able to let people in, even those who are patient and love them beyond words and actions.

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I’ve never been as lonely as I have in those moments when I am missing him.
When I am seeking his voice on a day when 5 seconds on the telephone would make weeks of grey clouds clear.
When I hear people, celebrating, or just gathering together as friends on their decks on hot summer nights, and I can’t reach him, this is when I feel alone.

I’m in a moment of questioning. I have big answers now, but they don’t seem to make the questions fewer. I want the answer from the universe. Why? Why did you put us together, Type Geek and I? Am I supposed to teach him something, or visa versa? Give me the lesson plan already! Let me skip to the last chapter and see what the outcome is. I don’t even know what chapter I am in. I feel like I am living a slow French film, without the gratuitous sex. Like a French film, it will probably end abruptly, with no explanation and everyone in the audience will be left scratching their heads and looking to each other for understanding.

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It’s Valentine’s Day and I went to sleep at 4 am. I drove to Type Geek’s home last night, dropped off his things, tried to pick up my own and it didn’t happen. He didn’t answer the door, he didn’t answer his phone. I stood, on his porch, in full regalia. Tight charcoal grey dress, fishnets, vintage inspired cream and black t-strap heels, and a push up bra that rivals plastic surgery. Why? Multiple reasons. 1) I was aiming for reaction. I wanted him to see what he was fucking up. 2)I hoped I was wrong. I hoped there was any other explanation for everything and that possibly I would find myself in his arms.

An hour after I left, after picking up Haagen Daaz and sitting down to an ice cream sundae with magic shell,  I received a text. 15 minutes of back and forth texting, I said he owed me at least a 5 minute phone conversation. 40 minutes into that conversation I realized that, in many ways, I was wrong. It truly WASN’T about me, it was all about him and how deeply he is hiding away in his fear. What is he afraid of, I don’t think he even knows. He’s overwhelmed by life, by family, by career and by responsibility, and crippled by it all. This isn’t just about me and my pain. This is also about him and his pain. He apologized for it all, he realized he had no explanations, no excuses that were worth expounding on, in the end, he just chose to put his head down and not see me, rather than look up and at me.

My friends keep chanting, “down with the douche bag.” , but it isn’t that easy, is it? Not when you love someone, not when you find that one person who fits into your puzzle and who you can accept for all his or her scars, faults, fears and baggage and in the end, you can actually see yourself with this person, regardless of all of that. You can see yourself old with them, a lifetime of experiences behind you both, years of joy that reduce the emphasis of the painful moments we all experience as human beings. When you are in love with someone whose broken pieces fit into your missing pieces. Something deep and unexplainable, unreachable, tells me that this man is worth fighting for. I just don’t know what to fight when he doesn’t know why he’s hiding.

In the end, we are final. It is final. Unless another solution to this issue presents itself, my ten months with Type Geek have come to an end. I end this message, on Valentine’s Day, with tears. Tears over what I found, a truly open and aware love that I was unaware I was capable of, and tears over what he and I are losing, collectively.

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