Near Break up

I lied on the grass listening to him counting the ways we were not right for one another. He could not come up with much. He thinks I did not want him enough.

I couldn’t even if I tried. He did not need to know that.

He wanted to try the no sex thing. Just friends. I said, “well that’s good but I’m out. I don’t want that you know that already.” 

He did not know what to say so I said, “let’s go. The sun is coming through the trees. It’s getting too hot.” 

We got up and I did not extend my hand to hold his. He was lost without holding my hand. I could tell because he knew that was not what he wanted.

I think he wants a bit more than what I could give him. “Something is off sexually.” He would say. I think I knew what it was. I’m too aggressive. He’s a Type B kind of guy but he wants to be in charge like everyone is. But I was once very aggressive, and when that ended, I was very laid back and he did not want to take the lead. Round and round we go.

We went to see flowers, then shopped at the Farmer’s Market, I was not happy to return that street. But he did not mind and I was trying to be supportive of it. I told him why I preferred the other neighborhood. But that was his neighborhood too. I couldn’t pick a worse location to date a guy.

He was looking at me, all pained. His eyes conflicted and I think he might cry. So I hugged him and said that I should get going. Packing everything up and leave. For good. I did not want this to end this way but there was nothing I could do. So I hugged him. The goodbye hug that came too suddenly, that surprised both of us.

“I had a lot of fun. I enjoyed this. This weekend. And many others before this. I don’t want this to end.” 

“Neither do I. We have a lot of fun together. There are many good things about us.” He began to back down on the imaginary break up.

In his imaginary world, I should be dating a marathoner, someone different than he. I knew because I began to get to know him. He was never really secure about this relationship. I think he suspected that I would move on one day anyway.

“But what if I don’t want anyone else?” I answered.

“I’m not going anywhere you know. I’m here. You do know that I care about you and I want you to be happy right?” He began to babble.

“I’m happy with you. Don’t leave me.” I began to plead.

“okay. I’m not leaving you.” He conceded.

I unpacked all those imaginary belongings I had scattered around his place.

He watched me cry. I cried like a baby. In this world, he was the only place that I felt safe and sound. He was the only one who I could trust. He was the person who was both my fan, my mentor, my father, my brother, my lover. 

He made the rest of the world seemed crazy, because when I was him, all I ever wanted to do was to enjoy the simplicity of it all. 

I had no one to count on. I had never been with a man who cared about my happiness. No one to kiss my forehead and tell me everything would be all right but him. 

In his arms I slept and slept night after night. I lost count on how many trips we’ve taken how many dates we’ve been on.

No one knew about us. Not his friends, not my friends. 

It’s self contained and untainted by the outside world.

I intended to keep it this way. 

“Promise me to stay with me.” I said.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He answered.

I knew what he did. He wanted to know that I would be affected by this decision. He tested me in his passive aggressive ways. He wanted to hear from me that I would not bail. 

No man had ever cared for me. They wanted what they wanted from me. They were ashamed of me, they hid me in the shadows. They disappeared from time to time. They were not forth front with me. They lied and cheated and they took from me. 

But he wanted me. It was really that simple. I chose him because he wanted me in his life.  And even then, we were always walking on tight rope. I was, anyway.

For now, we are okay. For now. 

Chase Ghost

Sorry internet for the delayed writing. It's not that I had forgotten to write, but I think more now and write less now.

A wise man said this to me once, "If you have nothing pleasant to say, say nothing at all."

I've been practicing that mantra. At work, in personal life, even when I'm alone. I try to think of a nice, pleasant way to describe things, a situation, an event, a person, and if that fails in my head, I think some more, and when all the thinkings are exhausted, and nothing good came out of that, I park it and move on.

It helps because I think anger is a wasted energy. Hatred too, for that matter. We all have to learn to move on from people, from situations and from our own past. But we all do that in different ways. Some men find women who are like their mothers, so that they could relive that trauma or abuse; some men find women who are totally different from their mothers, so that they could break free and be their own person. Some men had fond memories of their kind mothers, and they treat women nicely not for show or for pursuit but because that's how they feel towards women who reminded them of their mothers. At the end of the day, how you are and who you become as a man are tightly related to how your mother raised you as a child.

I hope to be a good mother to my son. Loving but not without discipline. I hope he's strong and confident and self sufficient. I hope he finds his mother loves him and gives him plenty of space to grow into a young man.

I have not succeeded in all of my endeavors. I failed pretty miserably in the adult love department. The only feeling that could describe how I feel is how humiliated it had made me feel. The man who I thought loved was not who he was, but beyond that, I am nothing to him either.

One moment he said that he loved me, the other he tried to erase me out of his life. He's ashamed of being seen with me, being with me, and he's ashamed of his desire for me.

I always thought that I could pick up the phone and talk to him, like that we were adults, but I couldn't because I realized that none of that made any sense. There was never any communications involved. I simply was not important enough. I had to believe that somewhere deep in his soul he loved me, or I had wasted my time all those years, but is it possible that I chose to believe it or I'd feel even like a bigger fool?

I think at some point, we are all just very exhausted. I'm exhausted from being so invisible and chasing a ghost. He's exhausted from all the anxiety I had given him. No one really needs this any more. I've been chasing a ghost. All is well in the end. Ghost vanishes. I'm left with nothing to chase. I'm returning to the normal. He's no longer in my life.

I purge images, emails and memories out of my head, body and soul, and in the end, I remember nothing at all. My undying love stay unclaimed and forgotten. He was not really there to begin with. His feelings, no matter how much I thought were genuine, were simply mood enhancers in the bedroom, declared by whispering into my ears just before he climaxed. Me feeling ridiculous at the end of all this was the only thing that was real.

Next time I run into him in those frequent streets and shared neighborhood, we are perfect strangers.