Love

When do you give up on love?

Recently my best friend, partner in crime, confidante, and man I love shared with me that he could not be content only having been with one woman. Apparently he was unsure that I was the person for him, and that is something you want to be sure about. Naturally, I was devastated. There was the shock, the despair, the grief, and about 15 minutes of anger. I wish there had been more anger. At least if I were angry, I would have all that energy from the rage to power me to do stupid things. Alas, I seem to be plugging along.

Life is treating me well, otherwise. I was lucky enough to get a job in a good school district. I am moving to a lovely apartment in a nice city with a delightful building manager. I have much more than the bare necessities for apartment living. In fact, I have an incredibly well equipped kitchen. My cat, Squeaky, is able to make the move with me. I am even considering investing in a fish come September or October.

And yet I am in so much pain. I function just fine, and am even happy enough most of the time. However, there is this constant pressure in my abdomen. It is strange that this loss should affect me so physically.

I knew I loved him. I knew he made me happy. I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life laughing and snuggling and eating and singing and travelling and dancing with him. But I thought that if we were to decide to break up, or if he were to leave me, I would be sad, but I would be ok. I imagined sadness and anger, but not this constant physical discomfort.

Every little thing reminds me of him. A song on the radio reminds me of when we sang aloud to the song in the car on the way to that show. A red Toyota drives by me on the highway and I look for a Wisconsin license plate. I can’t even eat a salad without thinking about how he insisted that lettuce was the most vile food on the planet. It has gotten so ridiculous that I drive through Wisconsin farmland and I think about all those times I drove through different Wisconsin farmland on my way to see him.

The other day, because of the insane level of awesomeness coursing through my veins, I had been thinking of him. In an attempt to dial a number on my phone, I accidentally dialed his. I hung up immediately, realizing my mistake, but I guess it still must have rang or connected on his side, because he ended up with a missed call. And he called me back.

The sound of his voice immediately shook the sleep from my eyes. It was so nice to hear his voice. Unfortunately, he didn’t sound particularly happy with life in general. This is too bad. Actually, to be honest, I am torn on this. I want him to be happy and have a good life (and this desire causes me to curse at myself sometimes. Please refer back to where I wish I could be angrier.), but I also want him to be unhappy without me. I want him to want me back.

Now when we parted ways, I indicated that I didn’t know if I could ever trust him if he came back. I told him this. I told him he could never come back because he would have ruined the trust and friendship between us. But now, here’s the thing – I don’t care. I deserve to be happy, and he is what makes me happy.

After hearing his voice on the phone and our short, somewhat awkward conversation, I slept so wonderfully. The next day, most of my smiles were genuine. I found myself half-smiling at nothing in particular.

I want him back in my life. I deserve to be happy, and if having him in my life makes me happy, screw the pride I am supposed to have.

A confession that doesn’t really need to be confessed at this point since it is so obvious: I am still in love with him. I want to feel his hand in mine and see his smiling face across the table from me. I want to laugh with him and play games with him. I want to share my day with him, and I want to hear everything about his day.

I understand that this probably won’t happen. I understand that he may never again be romantically interested in me.

A Proposition: If we can’t be together, maybe we can still be friends. This will probably cause me pain, but I am already in pain. Maybe if I can still have him in my life in some capacity, things will be better.

The thing is, I need to know when to call it quits. Maybe he shouldn’t be part of my life at all anymore, although I don’t see how that can be possible. He was my family. He was the person closest to me. He was the only person I could be entirely me all of the time with. How do you cut that out? How do you pretend that doesn’t exist?

But with the love portion, where do I call that quits? I already have a ridiculously stubborn streak that has gotten me into trouble in the past. There are things I should have quit, but I didn’t. Of course, it caused issues in my life for a time, but I don’t really regret trying to stick it through. I prefer to know I didn’t quit. I prefer to know I didn’t settle, but I put up a fight. Can this – should this – be applied to love?

How long and hard do I fight? It is difficult to say, since I am not even sure I should fight. Perhaps we can be friends. It might be worth a try.

But I want so much to be happy.