Eight "I’s" and one "When"

I wish I wasn’t crazy. I wish I didn’t sit here and think about all the ways this could’ve gone right. Last night, after a conversation about us, out of nowhere he said “Who did you tell? Who from work did you tell?” I can’t help but think he wanted to try it again… I know him. I know he did. He wanted to have another go at the same relationship with the same problems. He wanted to prove to me that it wouldn’t work. He’s right. It won’t work because he keeps doing the same things. You can’t fake intimacy. That’s what he would try and do. He would say “See, we tried — again — and it didn’t work. No, we didn’t try. You pretended to try. Not until you release your fears of hurt will any relationship stand a chance.

When I told him that the next time we broke up it would be forever, I meant it. … I think. I hope. I know that right now it would be bad. In all honesty, I think it would be bad regardless of when it happened. But I can’t help but romanticize our ending. It will happen like Definitely Maybe. We both move on but the move isn’t permanent, more like a rental agreement or a sublet. We find each other in the end. Music plays, fade out on passionate embrace.

I know he’s not right for me. I remember sitting in his therapist’s chair and asking him “So you want me to be more vulnerable? What happens when I become more vulnerable to you? Will you lose respect and cast me aside as you have others?” His therapist said it was a good question. I don’t remember his answer — if he answered. There’s not a doubt in my mind that that is what he did — subconsciously. He’s not an evil person and wouldn’t have done it on purpose but he still did it and it still hurt.

I think he viewed my vulnerability to him and his actions as weakness. The action of being vulnerable isn’t weakness, it’s a strength. The act of closing yourself off to intimacy and humanity is the bosom in which weakness lay. I read an article that says when I a guy is ready to marry he is ready. It’s not the with whom but the when. He asked me to wait, to be patient and wait. I was more than happy to wait and be patient, but I wasn’t willing to do it and receive nothing in return. I wasn’t willing to sit in relationship hiatus whilst he figured himself out.

I have to stop using him as a vessel toward my healing. If we keep having these conversations about us and our past it will kill me. Instead of asking myself “Why.” I will just ask myself “Why not,” and “Why didn’t we?” I need to turn to my journal and reflect there rather than with him. But it still hurts so much. I’m haunted by our possibilities. I have to reflect on the relationship using the light of reason against the mirror of self rather than irrational hope against unrealistic expectations.

I don’t want him back. I don’t want to deal with his neediness, his illness, his depression, his therapy sessions, his hurtful words, his past, his family issues. I don’t want that back. I can’t stress that enough. What I wanted was his desire to commit to me the way I committed to him. I’m angry that when he was “ready” he was “ready” with the wrong person. I can’t help but wonder what we would be like if he was “ready” with me. However, he said he was ready before and he wasn’t that marriage died seven months after its birth.

I may regret this; I believe we could have had a very successful and long-lasting relationship. The forever kind. But there’s one big snafu. Him. Yes, I know it’s a more like a glaring cancer but it’s true: He was in the way of us. When he allowed himself to let go of the crap ..the baggage, we were wonderful together. It was when he sat back and over-thought and took inventory of how his love for me was growing that we plummeted rapidly into failure. He is more comfortable living in fear than in happiness as many are, I hate that I fell in love with one of them. He was afraid of leaving the baggage at the check-in desk, boarding the plane and taking hold of the wonders of love. The flight may have been turbulent at times but glorious nonetheless. It is fear that keeps him stranded in the airport on an emotional layover. It is fear that prevents him from forgiving those that hurt him. It is fear to which he is wed and will never divorce. “Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” He’s afraid of letting go and being successful because success isn’t safe, its worthwhile.

I don’t want that. I want someone who is afraid of love but wants it anyway. Someone who recognizes their circumstances and doesn’t succumb to them. Someone who is as resilient as me. I don’t want to date my twin — that would be an atrocious failure; two people who lose their keys, forget their phones, and over pack. I want someone who is equally passionate about something, anything. Someone who wants to experience the world with me, not just talk about it. Someone who isn’t afraid fighting for what they believe in, fighting for me, fighting for us. I want someone who sees the good and the bad even when the latter outweighs the former and proceeds (with or without caution) anyway. I want someone who knows fear and doubt but isn’t crippled by them.

I don’t know if that person exists. But, just because my previous “one” wasn’t my final “one” doesn’t mean I’m going to love at a lesser volume. I’m not going to go looking for love. I’m not going to go looking for me. I’ve already found both of those things. I’m not interested in looking for anything. I’m interested in the experience.