Not Fine

I'm pretty sure no one reads this anymore. Between infrequent updates and spending so much time microblogging on Facebook, I'm pretty sure my dear readers have dispersed. And that's perfectly understandable, because I did seem to abandon this space in favor of smaller and faster and more frequent updates.

Which is why I'm here today. The rug has been pulled out from under me and I need to write about it somewhere. While I don't care who reads it, FB just isn't the place for this.

As the title suggests, dear readers who may or may not be, I am not fine. Jack and I are no more. After a year and a half of building a relationship that brought me such happiness and joy, he virtually told me it was all a lie. We had this conversation on February 21st, after a lovely weekend at a B&B that he bought for my birthday. There's never a good time to be told 'I love you but not that much,' but this was a pretty rotten time. After a lovely weekend with just the two of us, a beautiful blanket of snow on the ground, and lots of wine.

The story was that he was dating someone, whom I do not know by name or person, almost two years ago and he was still "hung up" on her. Their relationship ended 6ish months before mine began. But he knew he wasn't over her then, and started something with me anyway. We had a conversation about halfway through our not-quite-18 month relationship where he mentioned a bad break-up that he took very hard. Still, I had no idea it meant that he sometimes wished I was her.

So, in that Tuesday conversation a few weeks ago, he told me that he did love me, but that he couldn't love me with all of his heart because part of him still wanted SomeoneElse and he felt guilty about it. I asked him what he needed and he said he wasn't sure - he wasn't sure if he just needed me to know and we could keep on with our relationship while he worked out his lingering feelings for SomeoneElse, or if we needed to take a break while he worked out his lingering feelings for SomeoneElse, or if he needed to break up with me altogether to figure out what he really wanted. He told me I was wonderful, beautiful, awesome, and perfect and he didn't know why that wasn't enough. He said that he wished that he could just flip a switch and make the feelings for SomeoneElse go away, especially because he was certain there was no chance with her. I told him I loved him, and I wanted him to be happy even if that happiness was not with me, and that he needed to tell me what he needed and I would do it. We parted that day with the intent to keep on while he worked things out.

And then I cried for three days.

He checked up on me via text on Wednesday and Thursday and Sunday and we had another conversation over the phone Sunday night. I told him I didn't think this had to end us, but I would have to hold back to protect myself in the event that he did finally decide his happiness was not with me. I told him I didn't want him out of my life, but I couldn't promise that I could be reduced to just being his friend. I told him part of what I was thinking and feeling - wondering what I did wrong ("you didn't do anything wrong. I know it's a cliche, but it really is not you, it's me" "ok, but I didn't do enough right either."), wondering what more I could have done, wondering why I was so blind that I didn't see this happening, wondering if the happiness and love that I thought I had ever really existed at all ("it did"). We agreed to continue to date, but with the breaks on. We saw each other again the following Sunday. We just watched some movies, had dinner, and didn't talk at all. When we parted that day, he said "I'll see you this weekend."

And then I missed him.

I missed spending entire weekends with him. I missed him coming over during the week for an evening or two. I missed texting him "good morning" every day. I realized that no amount of distance I put between us would prevent me from hurting if he decided not to stay with me. And I realized this was the first test our relationship had faced. I thought that we could survive it, that I could continue to support him and be by him while he worked through what he was feeling and figured out what he wanted. I was sure we could do that together, and I was confident that he would (eventually) realize what he had and I would be happy again. So I told him on Wednesday, that's March 7th if you're keeping track, that I wanted to talk with him some more, and I rehearsed telling him exactly those things that I had been thinking.

Due to several factors, we couldn't get together until Sunday, yesterday. I started to worry and I started to doubt, but hope springs annoyingly eternal and I still had hope that he loved me and missed me and would be willing to work through this. So I drove the hour or so out to his place, we talked for 30 or 40 minutes, and then I drove home. I said what I wanted to say. I told him I missed him, and I loved him, and I didn't think we had to end. Then he told me we had to end. He said he needed to be alone to work things out, maybe date other people to find out what he really wanted or who he really missed. I felt like I was punched in the stomach. In what world does 'I need to date someone else to find out how much I really love you' make sense? He said he wanted to get in touch with me again in "a month or so" to see if he's made any progress or if he really misses me or whatever. He understands that I'm not going to wait around for that month or so, though I have nowhere to go at the moment, so I may or may not still be available by then. He said he understood that I couldn't promise that I could be his friend - and one day have to see him happy with someone new and wonder anew about what I did wrong ("it really is not you. This is all me.").

So that was it. Just like that, in less than three weeks, it's all over. The first test of our relationship and it failed, thoroughly and miserably. I gave him back his key, he gave me mine. He still has clothes at my house that he's going to have to come and get at some point because I don't have any out of the way place to stash them. Now that I've had a little time to think on things, I wish I hated him. I've never really been the dumpee before and offering my heart and watching him fling it to the floor and stomp on it is really hard to take. I wish I didn't love him, because it would be easier to let go if I hated him. He left me with a shred of hope and I'm clinging to it like a life line. If I didn't love him, I think I could let that go. I'm sure anger will come with some more time and maybe I'll give up on that feeble hope, and then anger will fade again. I'm mostly in shock still. There's nothing like thinking you have everything and then suddenly realizing you never had anything.

It makes me wish I never got together with him in the first place. Then he never would have been able to hurt me like this.