December 12, 2009

• No emotion, any more than a wave, can long retain its own individual form.
  – Henry Ward Beecher

  Every bit of sorrow starts with a decision. Why I, against my better instincts, decided it was wise to watch a slideshow of my ex’s trip to Mexico with his new girlfriend I couldn’t tell you. I had long ago given up all efforts to act stoic around him. So why not just decline the offer? Because I believed I had moved on. With absolutely no desire to return to him and not even the slightest memory of what sex was like (the rare shining aspect of our relationship) I really had no idea I would feel so mutilated afterwards. But there I was in a spontaneous rubble of tears over a six year on/off romance that contained all the joys of a Tennessee Williams play. Our love was practically annihilating. But here were these pictures revealing a level of emotional intimacy that he had in the past refused me.

  I’m usually pretty good at moving on emotionally while sticking around in physical presence. I returned to the friendship because I really enjoy his unique form of bohemian intellect. A difficult find in conservative Indiana. I know that no wound heals without leaving some kind of scar, but it’s very sad to think that full recovery will require severing all contact. I guess it is not so illogical to discover that my lack of interest doesn’t make it any less disturbing to find out now he was capable of a love that possessed generosity, compromise and emotional depth … just not with me. And that one day he would be willing to admit he should of offered up more of himself to me … but only after he was securely involved in a relationship with another woman.

  • 8:10 am
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