Despite my post a week ago, I want to assure you that I am not, in fact heart-broken — it simply made a better headline than the reality of the situation. In fact, let me clarify some things:
This man by whom I felt so wounded was not my boyfriend. We were not, in fact, dating. We merely had an “arrangement.” Within the confines of such an arrangement, there was closeness, secrets shared, vulnerabilities, trust… And the basis for all of these things was friendship. I did not assume what we shared to be more than it was, nor did I have expectations that it would develop into something more. Certainly a part of me had some hope, as I experienced some very high highs while in his presence. But I wasn’t sensing or assuming that he was feeling that way.
Further, let me expand on a single word I’ve chosen in the previous paragraph: expectations. I had none about what would happen any given time we met or talked, or for the future. I didn’t read meaning into the time we spent together, words said or unsaid.
Thus, it wasn’t even really a breakup. It was simply a shitty-feeling situation…from which I am genuinely grieving.
In the end, as I look back on the whole unnatural beginning of it all, I forced the issue. The truth is, I felt such a strong connection and attraction to this man — yet I simultaneously had misgivings — that I had to know. It would have been difficult for me to move forward and commit myself fully to another man without knowing for sure that more-like-it simply was not and would never be “the one” — he just seemed too close to my ideal to let it go. Now I know. With certainty. What looks, feels and sounds good doesn’t always act it.
And, in the end, I discovered something I never imagined I’d say: he reminds me a lot of my wasband.