"You're so pretty," he said. And he meant it. I could tell by the look in his eyes, he really did mean it.
I blushed. I could feel it happening. And I closed my eyes and tucked my face into his hand, and shyly smiled, eventually looking back up into his eyes.
"No, you really are," he said. "And the thing is," he continued, "you have absolutely no idea how attractive you really are....which just makes you all the more attractive."
We kissed. A long, deep kiss.
It's ironic that the thing that jogged this memory from more than a decade ago, was an advice column in which a woman admitted that altho she had been with her now ex-boyfriend for a year, he had never once told her she was pretty or beautiful or even attractive.
I felt sad for her.
What woman doesn't want to be told by the man she's in love with that he finds her pretty, or beautiful?
While my failed relationship left me with a multitude of emotions, many of them bad, there were also alot of good memories. Especially the memories of when he was totally enamored of me and told me often how he felt, that I was beautiful, that he loved me, and we shared our ultimate hopes and dreams.
God, I loved him! I really, really did. I thought he was The One! And even as our relationship started its downward spiral, I still truly believed that in the end, things would work out and that we would be forever together.
But it wasn't meant to be.
(I still remember how he used to hate when I'd start a statement with the word "But". lol)
There's no chance of us ever getting back together. The last time we were together, the night things ended, was awful and heartbreaking. And despite the good memories I have of him and our time together, that last nite overshadows them all.
I can't think of him now without remembering that nite; how he told me he wouldn't consider trying a long distance relationship; how he wanted and needed a clean break; how he didn't have time for the relationship any more -- he had other things to worry about -- like his upcoming move and in addition to that, how that move was going to be stressful on his dog. (yeah, he really said that). The dog meant more than me. I had my answers.
It ended with me sobbing uncontrollably for what seemed like a lifetime, and him, sitting on the couch with cold, distant eyes, not saying a word. How when I left, his last words to me were to ask if I could shut off the downstairs light and lock the door! Seriously. And ya know what? I did! I actually did.
I've recently learned that he is still living in the city he relocated to all those years ago. He's married now, with kids.
And, truth be told, it probably is better that things didn't work out between us. I like who I am today and had we ended up together, I know for sure that I'd be a totally different person. And I don't know if I would like that person.
I like who I am now. I'm grateful for the experiences that I had because of our failed relationship. I reached out, made some great friends, traveled. Faced some demons. Proved to myself and to others through a revved up career focus and attitude that I had gumption and could succeed all on my own.
Still.....the path not taken.........
None of us ever really know the path that Life is going to take us down. Even when we plan or assume, Life is always there, ready to throw a wrench into even the most carefully laid out plans.
I used to dread the flashbacks I had of my relationship with M. They tended to be a reminder of loss. Of a way things used to be. And I'd always end up in tears.
Now, I don't look at them the same way.
The experience, while heartbreaking, made me stronger. More self-sufficient, while also showing me that I had friends who would rally around me when I needed them most.
(That's another post -- how friends who had faded into the background when I was with him and didn't need them and didn't really interact with them all that much, rallied around me once they learned what had happened.)
My memories, while sometimes debillitatingly sad, are also heartening because I was able to pull myself up by the bootstraps, eventually, and move forward in leaps and bounds.
I can't help but think that M would be proud. Quite honestly, I don't believe he thought I had it in me. But I did!
So now, I can look back on the relationship with some bittersweet memories, as well as some triumphant and tender ones.
Still, I wish things had ended differently.
After all this time, some 13 years later, and despite everything that happened, I still miss him. A part of me still wants his approval. I wish we could have ended things as friends, but that was his choice, not mine.
Maybe it was for the best; maybe not.
Had things ended differently, they would have been alot less painful, and I'd be able to think about him, about us, without that last, painful memory always surfacing and being the last thing I think about when I do think about him.
Unfortunately, that is not the case and my memores are what they are. I can't change them and besides, they're now part of the fabric of my life; a big part of who I am; who I've become. And that is something I wouldn't want to change.
