Now add this into the picture: he sent a message saying he was "deeply sorry for the way he dealt with things."
I told him I've moved on even though if he ever asked for my hand in marriage right now I would have said yes. If, for example, he showed up at my door with an engagement ring, one knee on the floor, crying for mercy and swearing on the moon, I would seriously consider saying yes to him. And yet I've moved on--psychologically, spiritually, habitually, physically. Why is this?
Why is it that the lack of closure brings so much what-if scenarios into one's thoughts, as though one had never considered it before?
Do I have an answer to this? No. I can take a shot.
What-ifs always sound good only if no closures were never reached. There is a spot in the line between the last word spoken at the break up and where I am now that needs to be filled by something, anything, that may create a solid ground cementing either one of these: a renewed relationship, or a definite end to a relationship.
And while strong independent women don't always fall into my marriage cliche (which I've never even believed in until I met him), we always fall for the what-if blackhole. We are not in anyway safe from this torture. And while the guy may not have the worst intentions--wait, that's exactly it! The knowledge that they may (or may not) be truly sorry brings out the natural caregiving instinct within us, and hormones, of course do not help.
We are not sorry beings. The female gender can achieve anything nowadays, and nothing can truly stop us since we discovered that we spin heads and have codified this wisdom into a rule of law. And if Cicero can say that the natural law gives way to our notion of justice, and justice is formally translated into law, then maybe what we're doing IS just. Maybe we've earned the right to think of these what-ifs, the same way that we've earned the right to a decisive closure talk.
So why now? Why can we easily sway?
Is it because we've forgotten the reason things end? Is it because time fooled us into thinking that perhaps the exaggeration of the this reason was unnecessary, which makes it easier for us to bear? What about the tears that one man can evoke with a single click of his tongue? Where is our fort?
Our fort is in our rationale. Or in our best friends, as was the case for me. I can't remember why I fell for the guy, except that I had a great time being with him. I say if you can't remember it, don't even start considering it. That particular memory, no matter how bad things turn out, should always be with you. And if you don't even have it, forget it. You've lost the contact. The ship's sailed on. You're on the Freedom Express, heading to Paris--where all good things come and stay.
So sometimes, a what-if is just a what-if. It means nothing more (or less), than what it is. It is just missing a memory. It's missing the summer in a wintery life. What we deserve is so much more than vagueness and abundance of useless hints. What we deserve is our very own damn happiness.
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