Tuesday, 05 June 2012
This post has been submitted by Datingish reader, Lauren.
From the first time I had met Arun on a snowy day in November, I had found him to be the most captivating person I had ever met. He was the only person I could discuss history and economics with for hours on end. We lost ourselves in a world of our own nerdy bliss.
Our relationship was wonderful for a year. I took care of him when he was sick and he repaid the favor when my mother was in the hospital. We weren't just lovers--we were best friends, we liked the same movies, books, we even had the same obscure fascination with Bhutan.
However, when Arun told his family that he intended to marry me, our world crumbled. He was the eldest son and they were adamantly against his marrying someone from a different culture. His father refused food and even threatened suicide. Coming from a family-oriented culture myself I did not want to be a wedge between them so we agreed to break up.
We agreed to break up and remain friends, which is arguably the stupidest idea ever--particularly if you are both still in love. A few months later he was transferred to a project in Mangalore more than 8,000 miles away. My heart was completely broken--I cried every day and went on a diet consisting of ice cream, barbeque potato chips, and tequila.
Arun and I still spoke to each other on the phone constantly; we also exchanged cards and emails. After a few months, though, I was growing very tired of being star-crossed lovers and I told him I didn't want to talk anymore. Truthfully, it made me entirely too sad--I loved him and wanted to remain close but the idea that he might someday find someone else AND I would have to hear about it was driving me crazy.
A few weeks later I received a call out of the blue and against my better judgment I chose to answer. It was Arun and he sounded so different than he had previously. "I've told my father that I am going to marry you or I will simply never marry." I was perplexed, I had no idea that reconciliation was in the works let alone a proposal.
Initially, I said no. I didn't want to go down a path of heartache and disappointment again; I had just started to heal. My soul, however, lit up at the prospect of falling asleep next to him every night. After an hour or so of convincing, I accepted his proposal.
We have now been married nearly two years and we are expecting our first child in December. While it did take a little time to forgive Arun for running away I could understand his reasoning. I am just glad that our life together was delayed and not scrapped.
Have you ever forgiven an ex?