When I woke up this morning, I was feeling surprisingly calm. I realized that as I was processing things last night, that when A ceased to exist in September of 2011, B entered the picture. I was still lingering over A for a good three months, by January I was completely over A. B took longer, in that our relationship was much more intense, and that he was the first person I began to get emotionally attached with since fourteen years ago, when I was still in my mid twenties. It took longer because of these reasons.
But then at some point, we all had to move on. Moving on is a difficult task if you don't know how. I had never been able to be alone, alone. I liked having companions. I liked being surrounded by men when I needed that companionship. Usually being alone was also nice but when I was with someone I felt more complete, and then I needed to be alone again. The push and pull mechanism was so profoundly enticing when I was seeing B.
I also learned one thing that was absolutely certain about my failed attempt with B. I loved him. I have absolutely undoubtedly loved him. Unconditionally, passionately, jealousy free, loved him. When I was in France, I recognized that once again and I realized that it was he whom I wanted to be with, for the rest of my life, and just as that thought bubbled up I knew it was going to be the real end.
I didn't believe in happy endings. I didn't believe in maintaining a relationship that would be functional, and I also didn't believe that you could love someone and expect that person to love you back the same amount, or the same way.
I knew it was going to end the moment he knew that I still felt for him.
And just like that, I was approaching to an end. He again disappeared. And I again, was distraught and unconvinced that my love was real.
At the same time, I had embarked on a new journey with C. C was funny, happy and emotionally unavailable. I loved that about him because I never had to worry about breaking his heart. I would not love him and he knew that I would not love him.
All was safe.
I was supposed to see E for lunch tomorrow. I was going to hang out with a buddy of mine on Friday. He and I were not compatible, but he and I often did things together like a couple. Which was strange because he was the last person I'd have sex with, sometimes it's best to maintain just friendship with men you like. We will see.
But I was calm. And I was ready to say goodbye. This time, not a physical goodbye, but an emotional goodbye. And with that, a love story ended.
A year and some months later, I had arrived at this space. In a week or two's time, I'd friend him on FB, and it would be the final closure. I often did that, when I no longer cared, I friended the person, it was my way of making peace and allowing him to be back into my other life, the life that was open and good, the life that was normal and mundane. It was a great bridge to build, to transition a lover into just a friend. You befriend them on FB, they became just a face in your list, and they no longer occupied your mental space. And I envisioned the day would come, and when it finally came, I knew I had finally arrived, and ready to move on.
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