Saturday, June 29, 2013

Tempest Tossed

I love you, Strawberry Daiquiri.

That's the text message I sent Thursday morning. You'd think I was texting a current lover. But no - this one I'm trying to get over.

The tempest of emotions can be suffocating. One minute I'm smiling, remembering the music, the laughter, the  dancing - fun we threw ourselves into with abandon. When I was with him, the stresses of my life - my impotent job search, the tedious daily grind, the moments of terror about the future - fell away. People were magnetized to us. He said that people didn't get us but they loved us; we made friends wherever we went. The time we spent together was an oasis. It was magical.

Then I remember the bad times. We had some of the worst fights and went through drama I didn't know was possible for me anymore.

With him, my basest nature came to the surface. Jealousy, suspicion, insecurity, neediness - emotions I haven't felt in decades. He also brought out my purest nature: unconditional love. I love his ability to live in the moment, his love-the-one-you're-with attitude, his restlessness, his resistance of the status quo, his sense of fairness, his bright colors, his blues. Whatever he thinks, he says. He is on the verge of becoming a man whose words and actions align with his values of honesty and integrity. He's not there yet - he can be judgmental, mean and self-serving. He is prone to making excuses and justify lies, white or otherwise. He was a handful, but I let him be him. Yet these characteristics often broke my heart, when those moments were not spent together and that person he was loving was not me.

I'm warmed by the memory of our last conversation, in which he copped to all the bullshit: the selfishness, the unresponsiveness, the lack of responsibility for this relationship he co-created, the admission (or excuse) that he doesn't have his shit together enough to participate in the kind of relationship I want. That conversation validated my faith and love for him as a human with great self-awareness and the vulnerability to express it. It also confirmed that I have to let him go.

At dawn, when I sent the text, I felt right to have ended the affair. I am in love with him and he, although he loves me like crazy, is not so in love as to place me above other concerns.

Three hours later I'm sick with longing to see him one more time, to have him lift me up to meet his lips, wrap my legs around his waist and bury my nose in his neck. I could cry right now from wanting him so much.

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