I have been in love with him for more than a year. For a long time we hardly saw each other. I counted the days. There was twitter, then texts. It wasn’t until 6 months or so ago that we discovered the telephone and when he moved (or rather was kicked out) of the marital home we enjoyed long bed time chats. He definitely prefers the phone.
Now me, as you can see, I like long lyrical emails full of perfect clauses, metaphors and figures of speech. It got to the point where his heart would sink – another one of “those” emails- heartfelt always encapsulating what he felt at the time and what I felt too…
There was one, not that long ago in which I had the revelation in the middle of the night that he and I would never be able to have a relationship unless he got complete about having left without really tackling the underlying problems in his marriage which could only be done by long conversations with her, going back to try , or getting it complete for himself, by himself. In my heart I always knew the third way could never apply. Paradoxically that’s partly why I love him.
I still do it now. My last email to him was less than a week ago.
I felt so very sad today about all the relationships or lack of relationships around me. There are the so imperfect marriages suffered by many of my friends, (and him too), the messy divorces, the affairs and the single people. Perhaps it’s my current sad perspective but it feels that those in a good situation I could currently count on the fingers of one hand. At least my ex husband is currently among those looking more hopeful.
I was cheered this evening when I was struck by how ridiculous us women can be. I was having several wines with my old friend living across the road who told me that an acquaintance who has been dating a mutual friend of ours, when “dumped” a week or so ago wrote him a letter declaring her love and begging him to reconsider. My friend confided that it was only recently that she also wrote a letter to her husband who left her unceremoniously and out of the blue 18 months ago, asking him once again to come home. This in spite of the fact she has a lovely new boyfriend who adores her.
I was struck by all of our stupidity. Writing long letters to men who are unmoved by them . Mine to a married man who wanted me in his life but not enough to do what he needed to do to make it work with me; hers to a husband who has shown no consideration for her for months and months and the other girl to a man incapable of showing her affection.
I’ve got to ask, are there men out there who do the same thing? Or do they only exist in historical fiction these days? What kind of self esteem do we show when we write these pleading heart felt missives in the first place?
The cottage I paid for which we were due to spend the weekend in and which I was happy to donate to his family, the landlady today reimbursed me as he had also paid her and asked her to pay me back. This distancing of himself hurt me further and I was desperate to write and tell him so. I resisted temptation and am so pleased I did. No good can come of it right now and when I see that, I embrace it.