Update: September 13, 2018
I wanted to add an edit to this story because it affects me deeply in how I feel about things and how they ended.
A couple months ago I learned from a new co-worker who used to work at "his" workplace that he is with a married woman who has 3 kids.
Yes, I was just as shocked as you are, dear reader. So there it is...
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I’ve been struggling to write this for over a month because I am still not sure how or why things happened when they did. I have to admit that I always knew that he wasn’t mine and that he would be the one who’d leave. What I didn’t know is how it would happen.
As this year comes to an end, I think writing about the end of my relationship with him might help me to close this chapter in my life. But first I have to try to make sense of it.
Everyone keeps saying that 7 years is a very long time and that everyone goes through difficult times and that some couples just don’t make it past those struggles. To me, it didn’t feel like a long time and I don’t believe that we had typical problems. In fact, we didn’t have real problems. Our relationship was so cordial and mature that even when we had disagreements, we discussed them and fixed them (however, he disliked my technique for staying calm and threw it in my face at the end saying that it was part of the reason why he thought we didn’t communicate well).
I think that deep down I always knew that he didn’t love me, but I stayed with him because I assumed that he would eventually fall in love with me. After all, people who marry complete strangers manage to forge a life together, right? Okay, perhaps that’s not the best way to look at things. I remember that at the beginning he seemed so wonderful. I was foolish to let myself fall in love so quickly and so openly after having being hurt by “princess.” I don’t regret the feelings I let myself feel. We agreed on the big decisions - no marriage, no children - and we both desired to experience the world and to live a different life than what was expected of two educated and independent adults. The sex was good at first. We both tried to satisfy each other. We’d drink and talk about simple and complex topics well into the morning hours and then we’d sleep all day. Sundays were football days for him, which is something I had never really experienced before, but he made sure I was entertained and not by the games on TV. I grew to like those Sundays a lot.
It began as an office romance and because of the secrecy of it, I think it made our initial “affair” all the more exciting than it would have been if we hadn’t been in that situation. I risked my job to be with him. Foolishly, I had fallen in love…
It was natural to follow him to Louisiana since I had made the choice that I wanted to be with him. That was the first big decision I made because of him while completely ignoring what I wanted. I wanted to go to the East coast not the South.
I really loved Baton Rouge in spite of how horribly difficult and complicated work was. We took a lot of trips to festivals and went to many restaurants and hosted friends and family who came to visit. We made friends and felt that life was good.
I remember the first time he told me that he loved me. His best friend was in town and we took them to one of the bars by the apartment where we lived near LSU. We were drinking and dancing and everyone was having a really good time. He was drinking scotch or something like that and I’m pretty sure he was drunk. He looked at me with his mysterious look. I couldn’t read him when he had that look on his face but he didn’t use it often. I had only seen it once before while we were dancing at a wedding the first night I met his family. While he stared at me with one hand on his glass and the loud dancing music in the background he just blurted out - “I love you” - That was it. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. It was SO unexpected. I had told him those three words many times before and he’d just stay quiet and he’d hold me tight. The whole thing actually made me sad. I don’t remember the rest of the night but his confession changed how I felt about us. I think that’s when I decided that I’d go all in. I was determined to be with this man for as long as we could hold on to that love.
I think the beginning of the end happened around our trip to India. I carried a huge burden with the planning and the arrangements that it made me feel like I was someone else. I experienced anxiety, depression, and jealousy on that trip. I assumed it was all in my head because I was stressed out, but our feelings aren’t as simple as that. The part of him that was mine faded away somewhere over the indian ocean and it left a hole in me that I wasn’t able to explain or comprehend at the time. I cried a lot on that trip. If it hadn’t been for a couple of the people on my class who went above and beyond to ensure that I was doing okay, I don’t know how I could have survived that situation without crumbling. None of those people were my boyfriend though. He was clearly annoyed and tired of me and I was afraid and sad because I felt that I was losing him.
Once we were back, he was upset with me for keeping him in Wisconsin. Someone else would have been thrilled that their girlfriend found a GREAT job that she loved and that she was good at but not him. He wanted to move to another country and see the world while I wanted to work on my career and take small trips to see the world (on vacation). As an immigrant, I appreciate everything I’ve achieved and everything I have (no matter how small) and he didn’t understand why I didn’t want to leave it all behind to explore a new country with him. I tried to make him happy (risking my job again). This is the second time I made a big decision based ONLY on what HE wanted and this time it didn’t go well. I was miserable in Mexico. He wasn’t who I thought he was. He was much weaker than me, less driven, and less hungry to succeed. I began to resent his lack of drive. I realize that this is very subjective because my idea of what he should have been doing is probably very different from his perspective but this is my story and I’m telling it from my perspective.
When work called and asked me to return or I’d lose my job - I went back without hesitation. I was dying to get a reason to come back home. We lived in paradise and yet we were so unhappy.
Once back in Wisconsin we fell into a routine that kept us sane. The damage had been done though. He resented me and I resented him. There was no way around that. We stopped having sex. We stopped having meaningful conversations. We’d drink and drink and drink. Somehow, we thought this was normal. This is when I finally realized that this was not a loving relationship anymore and that we were living like roommates. I yearned for his touch. I missed his loving smile. I craved his kisses. I’d try to look pretty or even sexy at night to see if he’d be interested in having me and he’d go right to sleep. That was so hard for me. I was devastated and disappointed because I still loved him but I didn’t feel love coming from him anymore. Thanks to a friend, we worked on our love languages after we separated for about 4 weeks around my birthday. During that time apart I realized that I still wanted to be with him and that I loved him. If I hadn’t been sure of my feelings, we would have split up at the time but he told me that he wanted us to be together so we embarked on the last leg of the journey. It was like magic. I honestly felt that the love languages had helped us understand what we had been missing and that our love was on track once again. I was so happy and he seemed so happy too. The last year was really good. I even renewed my job search to move to a state where he’d be happier. We were SO close but unfortunately (or fortunately - I don’t know which one it is) I didn’t get any of those jobs. We were stuck here again and getting ready to be here for another brutal winter.
Then the end happened so fast. One week we were going on trips and doing the things we set out to do as a couple - and the next week he is sitting next to me in our living room telling me that he met someone at work and that he needed to figure out his feelings for this person and that he was moving out.
It has been a little over two months since he left and I’ve made peace with what happened. I am not sad anymore. I can see now where we failed each other. I failed in thinking that my love for him would be enough and that eventually he’d feel for me what I felt for him. That never happened. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop loving him. I know I’ve stopped wishing he’d want to come back. I mostly feel betrayed because my best friend didn’t talk to me about his feelings and instead made decisions that hurt both of us and forced a breakup based on betrayal and deceit instead of a clean amicable break between two friends who cared for each other. I would have liked to have the latter but life doesn’t work that way.
I am closing this chapter forever and aside from brief references in future blog posts, the subject of “him” is finished.
