I’ve been avoiding writing about this, not because it didn’t turn out the way I wanted (spoiler alert: it didn’t), but because I was hoping for it to end well and I wanted to allow enough time for that to happen (then more time, then a bit more…).
By ‘ending well’, I don’t mean ‘the way I wanted’, I mean with mutual respect and bitter sweetness.
But I have to face that that’s not going to happen and THAT makes me sad and disappointed and angry.
I hate that it would have been so EASY to end it well (SO easy!), but he has apparently decided that it’s all too hard, or perhaps he’s decided that it just doesn’t matter. I really have no idea.
When he was floundering, when it felt like he was withdrawing and we were sorting it out, we had this exchange:
Me: …I’m going to ask you for a promise: please don’t disappear from me without a word, because that’s really hurtful. Of all things, it’s the most hurtful because it shows so little regard or care. I don’t expect you would, but sometimes people who feel scared do things that are out of character.
Him: … I want you to know I would never in my life just cut off communication with you… EVER.
And I believed him. Though I guess once you end things, all bets are off. But I trusted him. And I feel hurt that my trust was misplaced much MORE than I feel hurt that it’s done.
So the story of the sex-voiced Texan goes like this:
We started talking in December. He commented in a group discussion, I looked at his profile, I ‘loved’ one of his photos, he sent me a sweet email.
And the connection, THE connection: you know what I mean: Sparkles and laughter and sweetness and intimacy and longer and longer conversations.
With an optimistically planned visit pushed out to ‘goodness knows when’, though, he started to withdraw.
I asked him what was going on and it was clear that he was struggling with ‘whatever this was’, this remote connection with no concrete plan. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings when there was nowhere to put them.
I completely understand that. I laid out the facts (that this would not end happily, that he would be hurt, that it would be easier to end it now than later), and I asked him to make a decision. I was very clear with him that I thought it would be worth it to see where we could take this. I really REALLY liked him, and that happens so rarely for me.
He wrote me a really difficult email that included such sweetness (“you are far beyond any other woman I have ever talked to” and “I like you so incredibly fucking much that I don’t want to stop with you”), but he couldn’t do it. The potential hurt scared him so badly. He is not a man who makes himself vulnerable easily, he worked hard to do that for me to the extent that he did. He said he wanted to stay in touch.
I could have let it go then, thanked him sweetly for everything (which I did), and faded away quietly. But I am not really the ‘fading away quietly’ type when there is something I want, and I didn’t want to leave a ‘what if’ on the table without making sure I had exhausted all possibilities. I decided to break my ‘hard’ rule about not financing an LDR again, and I asked him if he would be open to meeting if I paid for it, if that changed anything.
And then I waited for a reply.
I got silence.
And more silence.
I waited. God, the waiting. It drives me mad.
Eventually (apparently I am a slow learner), it became clear to me that he had no intention of replying.
I was floored, hurt, disappointed as that realisation became clear.
So I waited a little longer.
I finally sent him a note letting him know that I had heard him loud and clear in the silence of the void, I thanked him for the pleasure of the time he spent with me, I wished him well.
He never replied to that either.
I’m hurt LESS by it ending, because I understand that decision, and well, that’s life, and MORE by his choice to simply stop communicating with me when I had laid my vulnerability at his feet. I know that saying ‘no’ to me isn’t easy, but he had handled our communications up to that point with maturity and grace, and I expected no different with this. In all honesty, I expected him to decline: I was ready for it. What I was NOT ready for was his deafening silence.
I expected more from him: he had shown me over and over that he was a man of his word, so it hits hard. It makes it feel as if all of it is now suspect, as if none of it mattered, or meant anything. As if every sincere thing he said, every mega-watt smile, every sweetness we shared was worth nothing.
So now instead of coming away with memories of something sweet that didn’t work out, I am carrying a little core of resentment and hurt in my hands, and I hate that. I really hate it.
And it’s THAT feeling that scores ridges in my heart, creates scar tissue, makes it harden, become jaded. And I really hate that too.