I've had a dozen blogs written in my head over the last couple of weeks, but in truth, they were the same as the ones before. I'm sad. I'm hurting. I feel rejected. I feel lost. None of that has changed. I don't feel any less of any of it, either.
Maybe I'm just not ever going to be very good at this whole being alone thing. Maybe - now hear me out - I'm happier in a partnership so I really should be in one. That's why I stick it out longer than I should with the wrong guy. Because I'm happier with someone who can't/won't love me the way that I need than I am on my own.
It's a possibility. I don't know. I just know that I don't feel any better today than I did a month ago when I suddenly became single. And get this, while I love him, I certainly wasn't "in love" with him. There weren't fireworks. There weren't sparks, and there certainly wasn't mind-blowing sex. Hell, at best it was meh sex, if we had it at all. But we were comfortable together. We laughed a lot together. He was someone to make dinner for, to cuddle with. It was enough for me; why wasn't it enough for him?
Why wasn't I enough for him?
Yes, I know. I reread that paragraph again, too, after I typed that last sentence. The answer is there, plain and simple. He wanted more than meh sex and someone to make him dinner. He wanted - wants - fireworks. At the very least, sparks. Me? I'm so afraid of getting burned that I'm like an Oregon forest in mid-August: NO FIRE, NO SPARKS. What I had with him gave me enough of what I needed to help me get by without any of the rush of an infatuation to scare me.
We've been trying the friends thing. We have been seeing each other a couple of times a week, talking daily, etc. I can't do it. I wanted to. I wanted to keep that connection just in case he changed his mind. (Again, yes, I am well aware of how stupid that is. Hush.) He's not going to change his mind, though, in part because I am so weird around him. I'm still not myself when we hang out. I'm still trying to impress him, be the person I think he wants me to be. And until I can just be me around him, I really shouldn't be around him at all. If I really want to maintain a friendship with him, I need to step the hell away until I'm no longer thinking of him as someone to convince to love me.
That phrase: someone to convince to love me.
I think I've mentioned that my whole life, I've done that. I've played the chameleon to be whom I think the guy I like wants me to be. And I used to be really good at it. Then I met my second husband, and for the first time, I was truly myself. I compromised, of course, but overall, I was just me, and it was enough. He loved me, or so he said. I was wonderful... until I wasn't. Until he decided to destroy me.
That's a part of it, you know? I was me and it was enough... until it wasn't. And then, in spectacular fashion, it so wasn't. Two years down the line and I'm still trying to understand what went wrong. Two years down the line and I'm still trying to pick up the pieces that he broke me into.
Intellectually, I know that it wasn't about me. Intellectually, I know that he made his choices because he's broken, not because I did or didn't do something. The little girl in me that's only ever wanted someone to love her just as she is, however, struggles to understand that.
This hurts. It all hurts so damn much, and I just can't see it getting better. I feel weak, which I hate. I feel tired. I feel defeated.
I just want a guy to wrap his arms around me in bed and whisper to me that I'm perfect for him, that I'm what he wants in his life. I want someone to love me with abandon just like I've loved, so that he can teach me to do it again. To be perfectly honest, I truly cannot see that ever happening for me. I look at my future, and I test my heart, and I know that I'm damaged beyond repair.
It's a bad day. I'm sorry. It's just... yeah...
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