Bear with me. This is going to be a dribbling, random, thought-dump. I feel like I should capture them. In the moment, without edit or censure. A fleshing out of my behaviours. Acknowledge how I’ve responded to the past few months… get it out of my head. In the doing so there will be clarity and therapy. There’s also a drive to justify myself; a chance to explain a few things. It feels the time to explore my actions. Look at what I’ve understood to be my part.
I was not looking for a relationship. I was seeking good company. Companionship and adventure. Respectful, kind, ultimately offering fun. But things seem to have become over-complicated, undermined with so many undercurrents of another person’s inability to be honest. Either with himself or others. No, that’s not fair. More, his own confusion and indecision. And the toll this has taken on me is more than I would have guessed. It is taking too long to slough off. And I laugh; all I wanted was to meet interesting guys who were ready to enjoy my company and get bit sparky occasionally.
Throughout I’ve played casual. Aloof. I have distanced and given space whenever requested. Never pressured or become possessive. I’ve disconnected and disappeared at all the appropriate times. I’ve never chased, fixated, or stalked. I have carried on with my journey and gifted them the respect deserved. I have disagreed with the choice to end things each time, but done so in private. Not argued or fought. I am not obsessive, nor an emotional renegade. I am kind and forgiving. I understand from my own heart-history, that you cannot force attraction or a love connection where there is none. Where there is denial or refusal or so many broken bits that need assembling. My caring and energy is wasted on those that don’t want it. I know this and remove myself accordingly. Maturely and with courtesy.
I have not chased. I have retreated each time I’ve been ‘ghosted’. I have continued to move forward and do things that give me pleasure. For what else can we do? I’ve kept dating, kept my humour, and protected my own independence. Aggressively so. And I have kept my dignity.
Yes, I think I fell in love. Maybe? Possibly. But it’s hard to tell. So little healthy interaction and so few pure moments, have made me wonder how I could know this. The connection and chemistry was undoubted. And I do believe there was a world of wonderful possibilities. But the exhaustion from all his coming and going, from the inability to communicate his truth, and his confusing behaviour towards me, has left me sitting with hindsight wondering today, what my heart thought all the fuss was about?
I never asked for anything. At the very beginning, when I knew that he was going to be important, I still suggested he date others, to get out there in the world. But he chose me. And then later, with his continued erratic behaviour, I only ever lightly joked with him – never reprimanded. I admitted how I felt much later; shared mistakenly after an escalated bout of his attentiveness and apologies. But under duress and prompted by him. I believe my feelings, especially given I was not seeking him out, were none of his business. My behaviour didn’t change with the realisation that I may be more engaged than I wanted to be, didn’t impact him. And that is as it should be. I knew the score. And with the caring comes a responsibility not to make my feelings his concern. I stayed light and funny and continued my state of distance. Happy to work towards a semblance of friendship – something I would have felt blessed to be gifted.
It was him that made the moves, sent the invitations, made the opportunity for contact and progress the intimacy. Not me. It was him that planted kisses, and took my hands, and made ordinary sentences seem filled with laughter and hope. In fact, looking back over our communication, I remained reticent. Even when we were laughing and sparking like lovers, I put up a fight not to be dragged back in each time. Gave him cues to cease, options, and ‘outs’.
And this is all moot now. Given he has clearly and finally stated his lack of thought for me. I am hoping that with writing this, I give myself permission to stop wondering what I did wrong or why I allowed myself to be played so badly. It is what it is. The heart goes where it must. But I am able to decide not to hang around or mourn for something that was, in reality, neither fun nor worthy of either of us. And truth be told? I hope this particular muse is exhausted. This is now boring me to tears.
Updated: Monday 16 November 2015