The final goodbye

I had ordered you a birthday present, it's now en route to your office. I felt that you had purchased me gifts in the past, and had been rather generous with me, I wanted in some way to be even. I had gotten gift certificates to Harbin retreat for your Christmas, and I realized that you would never want to go away with me, so I felt that I owed you something.  I did not like to owe anyone anything. 

In my nearly two years of interaction with you, I had hoped for a few basic things: a weekend brunch, going out with you and meeting some of your friends, and finally, perhaps a day date, and an out of town trip. None of which was realized. I never thought that I'd hang on for so long, in hoping that day would come. I had wished for it so much so, that sometimes I turned those thoughts into vivid dreams and had thought they did already happen. For instance, I had in my head that we shared a cup of morning coffee on a Sunday, in your neighborhood cafe. That never happened. When did I become delusional? How could I be the person I had become? I've stuck around for two years for you, yet my most basic wish had not been realized, I had never gone to breakfast with you, never had coffee with you, never met any of your friends, never went out during broad day light, never had an overnight trip, never went away, NEVER EVER. And I finalized realized none of which was ever going to happen with me and you. 

I realized just recently that perhaps my fantasies were simply just fantasies and your intent was never more than just a quick lay. It's not easy for me to come to that conclusion, I had refused to feel that way because I thought that I was special. I couldn't imagine me being just one of your conquests, despite my cynical attitude and logical sense, I thought, that you had cared about me in some ways and in some capacity I meant something. I was not just some random bimbo, I had a professional life, I was worldly, smart, kind, generous, and I was pretty. I had never met a guy who had told me that he loved me, and wanted to be with me always, asking me to leave my family, and then simply disappeared, over and over again. NEVER, EVER.

When I had my second nervous breakdown back in early March, I went to see my therapist and she said that perhaps you did care in your own ways, and I started shaking and told her to stop. The only way to expunge you from my head was to believe that you never cared, and I meant nothing. I told her that. I stopped seeing her in part she was angry that I went back to you. I told her that you had an invisible pull and I couldn't escape even if I wanted to. 

I knew that you were terribly good at blocking any emotions. I was very attracted to that. Part of me felt that perhaps you did care, and part of me simply felt that I was being an idiot for believing that I meant something to you. I was at odds with the two parts of me, but I knew rationally you never did care. 

I had been seeing this guy. He's got a girlfriend whom he'd been involved with for a few years, on and off. He did not talk to her during the week, and he did not email her either. They'd make these quick arrangement so that he could see her and bang her on occasion. I asked why he was not more involved with her, like doing things and developing a real relationship by introducing her to his friends,etc., he said that he didn't want her to bug him too much, and it was taxing and difficult when dealing with her because "she starts to expect things out of me if I showed any sign of affection or allowed her into my life more. It gives her ideas that I wanted more when I did not." He didn't really want a relationship with her. Not a real one anyway. On the contrary, I had already met his friends on several occasions. He'd told them about me, ever since the beginning, including my circumstances.They had welcomed me into their worlds. They liked me despite of my circumstances. He was proud of me. He talked to me fairly regularly, on the phone or via emails. He and I argued about things, we did things on weekends or during week days, he controlled how often we saw each other, but it was not weeks or months. It was more or less once a week. In the much shorter period of our interaction, I told him about my past, and I showed him places I liked to visit, and music I liked to listen. We went to events and places. I had taken him to restaurants I used to eat at in Richmond, he was curious about my past, my life as a child, and he was open about sharing me his. He never bailed on any date, or events I set up, which you did frequently. 

When I saw his best friend at an event recently, he asked me if I had gone to sleep at 12, because he just assumed that I was sleeping over. I did not. I went to my own place. I knew then that he knew I was his friend's girl. I was talking to his female friend, who already welcomed me into her world, befriended me and asked me to join her at a music venue this week, and she said, "you know him in some ways more than I do." I asked him if he had told them about me, and he said, yes, everything. They knew of my circumstance, yet they still welcomed me into their world. They liked me. They talked to me, and they introduced me to his other friends, they genuinely accepted me. That was lovely. It was lovely because I meant something to him, important enough that I was being introduced to his friends, and that he wanted me around his friends. It never happened to us. You and I. You never wanted me to be seen in the broad day light. You were ashamed of me, You did not think I was worthy of your real life, your friendship and your circle of friends. You had no regard, no respect for me. Yet I waited, and put up with you, hoping that one day you'd see me for who I was really, and change your mind. I was tired of waiting. Finally I had enough. 

I realized that his treatment of me and his girlfriend was quite different. I felt that he and I could go on for a while, because he made me accessible to his friends and that meant that I was not just some chick he banged on occasion. 

I started to draw similarities between this woman's situation with him and my relationship with you. I began to realize that perhaps the reason I had never spent any substantial time with you, met your friends, or gone away with you for a day or a weekend, was because you simply did not like me that much. You liked me in your bedroom, alone, and you got tired after the sex was over, you never talked to me about your work, your life, or your travel. You never took my calls. You never asked me about my life. You didn't care for me to enter your real life, because you didn't really want me to be part of it.

Realizing that made it easier for me to move on from this relationship I had with you, which was secretive and marginalized. The devastating thing of it all, was how you lied to me. The lines you fed me, how much you loved me, how you wished that I could go away and be with you, how beautiful I was, how perfect we were for each other, every single line you fed me, you fed to others, it was the way for you to retain me, to keep me where you wanted, and it meant absolutely nothing, yet, having left the dating world 14 years ago, I had forgotten how treacherous the dating world was, and how deceitful men could be, you, could be.  I couldn't believe how much I believed it. You had never ever wanted me more than an occasional lay. 

That was really why I could never get hold you, speak to you, or have coffee with you. You never could see me as a friend. You could careless if I existed or not, I was a convenience to you. Why and how could you be so cruel? Why did you lie so much so often? Why did you treat me like a used rag? And more importantly, why did I put up with all of your bullshit?!

I know that you must have that person in your life, the person whom you are proud to show off to your world, the person whom you could talk to on the phone with and email with, the person whom you drank morning coffee with. It was never going to be me, and you never wanted me to find out. Just like this other man I started to see occasionally, while he did not mind me finding out about his other girlfriend, he had no intention for her to find me out, because she would "flip out". He said. I imagined you told your true girlfriend about me, and you guys would laugh, and she'd say to you, "Why haven't you told her about me?" And you'd say, "I was afraid that she'd flip out. I would just stop seeing her. She's not you, baby. I love you. She's some married woman with kids, she meant nothing." 

And you stopped with me. Just like that. You were gone.

Just like that, I was moving on.

I was appreciative of you. You taught me how to love again. I was no longer bitter or sad. I was happy that we'd crossed path, again. You taught me that I should stop listening to what men had to say to me, but observe what they did to me or for me. 

Never ever a brunch on a lazy Sunday morning. Never ever a proper photo of the two of us. Never ever a party where I was introduced to your friends. Never ever a short get away. Never ever a trip taken afar like we used to fifteen years ago. Never ever going to be another birthday celebrated or Valentine's Day or Christmas holiday. 

Never a future. Never snow covered path with northern lights, hand in hand. 

We could never have a future because we never had a present.

People told me that I was a desirable woman.  I could share a morning coffee with someone in a local cafe. I could meet his friends and their children. I could walk to Golden Gate Park on a sunny Saturday afternoon with him, hand in hand, I could take him to my favorite restaurant in Richmond, I could tell him my childhood stories. He would listen, and knew who I was behind the shell.

He would tell me that he used to do photography in the middle school, he would tell me his years spent in Boston as a college and graduate student, he would tell me about his childhood growing up with two sisters in the suburb of America,  he would tell me about his friends - Ken, Peter, Frank, Michael, Sarah and all those other people were up to, he would argue with me about a movie we saw together - I loved it, he hated it, he would tell me about the calls he got that day, from his dad and mom, and why his sister should give up her unrealistic expectation of finding a solid man, his trips made to other parts of the world. He would never tell me that he loved me. But every action he took, every moment he spent with me, would make me realize that perhaps he did, or could, possibly, in the future. And if he did not, it would be OK as well. I would not have cared that much. Because I would not have loved him. I should not give out my love so freely. I learned to protect myself, finally.

Eventually I would come to my senses, and realize why this final goodbye was warranted. Finally I'd understand why I should never ever see you again. You were not good for me. You were not good to me. I would realize that it was no longer worth it. I had loved you. You squandered my love and abused my trust. 

You never did care about me.

I meant absolutely nothing to you.

I needed not to be reborn this time. I needed not to be reinvented. I was always me.

And this was the final goodbye.