We all have that sadomasochistic fantasy to return to a former flame with a long list of miserable qualities. Yet we may be able to convince ourselves that there is only one thing wrong with them, then overanalyse them, thus actually (not even reluctantly) believing that perhaps the same thing will not happen again. If only you can work on it-- and you... can?
To me JS signifies the progression from hoo-ha dating to serious relationship. No trickster to persuade me to make him feel jealous. No self-containment in a selfish attempt to preserve myself.
Is this why I can't move on? Simply because I can't replace him?
Of course I can. But the question is, am I willing to sift through the pile of men in order to find out if there's someone else? He's set a high standard of sophistication and maturity that I cannot see myself with anyone else. Not from this place. And if not from this place, where else? I have another year to go, and frankly, I don't wish to be in the same place I am in right now a year from now.
What's holding me back? What's the flaw I thought I could fix?
His shell. The youngest of four, alcoholic mother who solely depends on him and no one ever trying to put an effort to be with him. I will not defend him. I certainly will not make him look better than he actually deserves to be. But deep in my mind, he is and will always be, the person who changed me.
It may be commitment issues. But no. I have commitment issues. He's got something else. He's got the intimacy issue, and he'd jump around trying to find some place else to land that's not anywhere near me. He gave me hints: no return calls, last minute cancellations, curious migraine cases. All only when I invite him over to spend time with me where I live. Other than that he took care of me in the best gentlemanly manner possible.
JS is not dumb. He knows fully well what goes on inside his head. But he accommodates it--he gets an A for lack of trying. I fought for him, and in my world of "coming, going and don't come after me", "staying" is an incredible feat for me. Knowing this, it still didn't change his mind about how I feel when he refused to acknowledge my existence for two months, post-breakup.
Why do I bother? Why now?
Well, aside from the apologetic text (which I can't help but to believe was sincere), my birthday is coming up. Tomorrow, actually. My preliminary observation is rather pessimistic: he won't say a thing.
But if he does, are we "cool"?
It seems to me that it gives him an unfair advantage over me. I, then, would have to wish him happy birthday. On top of that, what about that smoldering feeling lodged in the back of my heart that sometimes would come up and get stuck in the back of my throat? How do you suggest I proceed from this?
Perhaps I shouldn't give him any credit at all for being a gentleman. Expectations are presumptuous. It will lead me to be disappointed, when I can't afford to be right now. And yet, I can't help but to wish he would show up at my door, in all his glory, and wish me a happy birthday.
Happy birthday, putzi, he would say. And I'll be ready to let go, then.
No comments:
Post a Comment