Friday, 05 June 2009

• Why Does This Still Bother Me?

  She was my first love.  The only girl I've been serious enough about to buy an engagement ring for.  I still have that ring.  Haven't gotten off my rear enough to sell it yet.  It remains, sitting in a lockbox under my bed.

  Anyhow, I met the girl just over three years ago.  We kinda hit it off pretty quickly, and within a couple months started dating.  It was, for the most part, a pretty good relationship.  She was everything I'd ever wanted, and then some.  Then...things changed.  I put most of the blame on myself, since most of our problems started after she got pregnant.  I mean, she was a virgin before she met me, so maybe the fact that we had sex was more my fault.  Her parents responded by trying whatever they could to push us apart (to the extent that her father even suggested she get an abortion).

  We had fights, broke up, and got back together.  (At this point, I'd known her almost a year).  Meanwhile, she miscarried.  (Or, said she did.  Part of me wonders if she actually took her father's advice, since the procedure used was the same, and the fact that she spent the next two years [probably longer...probably even to this day] mourning the deaths of these children, as if she felt personally responsible for that.  It really doesn't matter.  My love for her was irrelevant to that. Anyhow...)

  After this breakup, we were together another two years.  Her parents, the entire time, fought to get her to walk out on me.  My parents, the entire time, didn't approve, but out of respect for my decision, said nothing contrary to the relationship.  (Yesterday I had a conversation with my dad, and when the topic of her came up he mentioned "you two never were as close after she got pregnant.  Just an outside perspective.")

  I don't feel that way.  In fact, I'd even argue that I fell more in love with her throughout the two years afterward than the few months before.  I mean, it was after that I bought the rings.  After that I kept trying to get a chance to ask her father for his blessing to marry her, only to have him constantly be "busy". After that I realized I would've given up my life for this woman if only it'd make her happy. 

  There were more pregnancies.  More miscarriages.  She told me about some.  She didn't tell me about others.  About a year and a half ago, I didn't want her to have to go through the pain of another miscarriage.  She also mentioned how it was especially hard because of the condemnation she got from her family.  So, I chose to stop having sex with her.  Until marriage.  I knew this was a long patch, at least until one of us graduated (which she recently did and/or is going to).  But, in my mind, it was the right thing to do.

  We still had our stupid fights.  They'd come about once every six months, it seems, and perhaps it should've been a sign to me.  (One time, she asked me for my honest impression of a dress she'd gotten.  Don't get me wrong, she looked great...but the dress looked like a rag.  Regardless, she took me not liking the dress as hating her, and refused to speak to me for a couple weeks afterward).

  Then, last September, everything fell apart.  I was at work one day, and I pulled a (in hindsight, stupid) prank on one of my coworkers.  It had a bigger effect than intended, and our corporate office wanted somebody punished.  I spoke to her about this, and she responded that because I pulled the prank, I should be the one to take the blame.  (My boss at the time, meanwhile, argued that it was a mistake he made and should've been able to fix, regardless of the prank).  After thinking it through, I decided to talk to the corporate guy, figuring that if they wanted one person to take the blame, it should be me.

  ...Of course, it didn't work out that way.  The corporate guy decided we both needed to take the blame.  I was pretty mad about that.  I called my ex (stupidly, since I was mad), and said "well, I spoke up.  Now it's just worse.  Happy?"

  She burst into tears, said "I love you," and hung up.  I tried calling her back to apologize, but no answer. The next day, she told me that she felt I was a dishonest person, and she needed to think as to whether she could spend her life with somebody like me.

  A couple months later, I started trying to pick myself up again.  I knew that she was moving on, going on dates with other people, etc, so I tried to do the same.  Went on a couple dates, and the entire time I could think of nothing but her.

  Meanwhile, she sent me an e-mail.  Talking about how she knew I wasn't dishonest.  About how it was her angry at the previous miscarriages, and how she knew she overreacted, but also saying that she felt we were both better off, and she didn't want to get back together.  I called her, we spoke about things, and still, the entire time, I wanted nothing but her.  Of course, trying not to make things awkward, I didn't say so.

  A couple months later, fast-forwarding to about February, I was trying to be friends with her; when talking to her on the phone reminded me of everything I missed about her, how I *still* wanted her.  Meanwhile, perhaps truthfully, perhaps out of an argument, she said that she knew we wouldn't have worked out for about a year...about when I decided the sex had to stop, although she didn't mention that.  She said she held on to the relationship "just to prove her parents wrong".

  Enter depression.  Worse than I thought was possible.  The woman I loved...who was...the one...had simply been using me.  Obviously she never loved me.  Love doesn't do that.  Maybe I was right after all...unlovable.

  Fast-forward a couple more months, to about a month ago.  I spoke to her again.  Let the whole thing go.  I didn't care that she had been using me.  I still wanted her.  We talked for a couple days, and things started to become friendly (or, at least, not hostile).  I sent her a text message, asking her if she ever thought about trying again.  I know I shouldn't have, but...I couldn't stop myself.  She said, although not so shortly, that it would never happen.

  Strangely, for a bit, I felt free.  It hurt like hell, sure, but I was somehow free too.

  Then, fast-forward to today.  Things have been pretty good, although occasionally I'll notice her username pop up on my blog, and I wonder why.

  I log onto Facebook (or stalkbook, depending), and her name pops up on my front page...about how she had a great blind date.

  I'm happy for her, but at the same time...sad.  Hurt.  Why is this still bothering me?  I mean...it's been nearly a year.  She's clearly moving on.  Why haven't I?

  • 7:01 PM
  • 2400 Views
  • 58 eProps
  • 28 Comments