Sometimes They Come Back... Again

December 12, 2014

Sometimes They Come Back…Again

There was a boy I loved once, and the circumstances of our relationship were less than traditional.  Less than appropriate by some standards, shameful to others.  To us however, it made sense.  I was in the process of going through a divorce, and he was as well.

Somewhere in over the course of our one year relationship I realized that I was no longer committed to and spending nearly every day with my boyfriend who was going through a divorce.  I was dating a married man.  Somehow, I had become the other woman.

Our problems became more than where to go for dinner or how to spend our time over the weekend.  He spent less and less time with me, and it was a struggle to keep him on the phone with me without fighting when we couldn’t see each other.  Money became an issue for him and I couldn’t afford to pay all the time. The time we actually spent together was a rarity.  Our relationship evolved into my giving him control, and letting him have the power to influence my emotions. I transformed into someone far needier than I wanted to admit to.  I’d suddenly become dependent on a relationship that was doing nothing but damage.  I needed a break.  I needed to be with someone who respected me and for some reason, he didn’t.  Maybe he never did and I just didn’t want to see it.

Breaks aren’t usually just breaks.  They’re almost always break ups, and a breakup is not what I wanted.  I just wanted to feel better.  I wanted us to be better. Even though I knew we couldn’t be.

I kept thinking about the moment I fell in love with the man that I thought of as my best friend.   

Snuggling on the couch together with the reflection of the blue screen in HD reflecting in his eyes.  A light dust of bristle on his face and in that very moment I felt the pulse in my heart begging me to share my feelings.  I did.  One syllable at a time in a moment that I can’t take back.  Sometimes I wish that I could.  I see now that the love he had for me wasn’t really for me.  He loved that I loved him, and the idea of what that represented. Unconditionally.

 

Regardless of the reasons, or the conditions of our failed relationship, it didn’t work because it wasn’t supposed to. 

I had "stalked" him on Facebook long enough to learn that I had become expendable. I hated that I’d been replaced in a matter of weeks by someone who resembled me but wasn’t. I was so devastated that I quit everything.  I even got a new job within my company. I stopped going to class, I stopped writing and I cried a whole lot.  I talked about my pain incessantly to my friends and family and finally decided that it would be best if I didn’t even  think about him anymore.

Soon after my discovery, he started emailing me.  I didn't respond of course. I considered filing a restraining order but I didn’t know where he lived. I was also still in love with him and decided I’d leave it alone unless things got out of hand. Finally, something in one of his emails struck a chord in me and I replied telling him I didn’t want to speak to him or see him again. Somehow he managed to convince me that it would be a good idea to maintain contact.

We began emailing again.  Sharing little things.  I missed the man that I was in love with.  The one who was my best friend as well as my love.  I thought I could sustain email correspondence with him - but I just couldn't.  It wasn’t good for me.  I couldn’t let him go. 

In one of the last emails, he confessed to hurting the girl who looked a little like me, and in doing so he’d lost the love of his life.  It made me wonder what we had been. Their relationship must have been explosive, I thought. And the pain started all over again.

He also confessed to sharing things with the intention of hurting me, even though I had done nothing to deserve it.  

I stopped responding to him altogether.

Three days ago he pulled up to the street behind me as I was getting out of my car after work. 

There was no announcement. He just thought he’d drop by and check on me since he was in the neighborhood and since I hadn’t responded to his email - sometime in May.

I’m fine.  I’m good. It was good to see you. (That was a lie.) I walked into the house confused, surprised and upset.  Why would he do that?  Just show up out of nowhere in the middle of my life to say hi.  After everything he’d done.  Why?

I know that he didn't swing by to apologize for breaking my heart, or hurting my kids by being a strong figure in their lives and then abandoning them.  He certainly won’t apologize for harassing me into maintaining contact that I didn’t want to maintain.  But why push so hard to get in when he insisted he needed to stay out? I suppose it’s not for me to understand.  I hope now that I’ve had a chance to write about it, about him, I can put it out of my mind.

Maybe he wanted something, maybe he didn’t. Sometimes they come back again.  God knows why.