What do you do when your “Divorced Boyfriend” really isn’t divorced at all? It’s not even a matter of divorcED versus divorcING but separated. A whole other ballpark. It’s not a lie exactly, but an omission of the truth. Apparently the marriage was just so long over that it’s considered divorced by all sides, and their families... but technically, I’m still sleeping with a married man. Nice work Amanda. Even when I go legitimate, I’m not. I seem to be stuck in this pattern that I can’t really break free from. I feel stupid. I’m I’ve got a whole bunch of new questions in my head: What does his family think, with me parading around and spending nights at his apartment? Why didn’t he trust me enough to tell me? He says he loves me, but never bothered to share this little tidbit. And if it’s been over for the year, why hasn’t his “ex” wife filed? I already don’t feel comfortable with their level of friendship, now I can’t help but trust it even less.

He says he was stupid and didn’t say anything because he was scared to lose me. What else could he be hiding from me?

A,

You look so happy – and I honestly am glad. I’ve always had love for you, and I haven’t stopped caring about you so it’s good to see that you can be happy. Part of me wishes that I could have made you happy like that, but I accept my failing. I just want you to be as happy as I was when I was with you.

I’m good. Better now. And happy. Not the same way I was with you, but I’m also not that miserable ether. I wish you weren’t such a coward and that we were still talking. I miss you – the person, not the penis. And I’d really like to talk to you about the good things, like my boyfriend. There never seemed to be enough good news for us to talk about.

And this isn’t a matter of me letting you go – you were never mine to hold on to – but you hurt me. No matter if you said you didn’t want to, you really did. I’m still trying to relearn how to trust and depend on someone. You were there and listened through so much from grandma to panicking over Karen. You were such a strong support. Maybe I’m sorry I leaned so heavily. And maybe I’m sorry I never told you how much I appreciated it. I have a few regrets, but I don’t think it would have changed anything.

I don’t want you back. That much I want to have clear. If it didn’t work out those four times we gravitated back to each other, I guess it never would have (even if I thought it could have.). And I don’t think I am exactly what you need in the long run. I would have given you too much freedom. And maybe the life differences were too much. I don’t know. And it seems I never will.

I’m just glad you’ve found someone that does make you happy. I think you deserve to be happy.

I’m the insecure type of person who fears that her mother will stop loving her (after all, father did) so for the life of me I can’t understand why I ever assumed that A would have. But that’s neither here nor there, last night someone else said he was in love with me – and not the boyfriend, which would just make a little more sense I suppose – but AR. It’s not that I hear that a lot, (I’m still unbelieving when D, the boyfriend, says he likes me and will keep me. After all A said that too.)but I have heard it before. AR is only different: I’ve been to bed with him, he’s the first man I ever woke up next to. Not used to being cherished after – just disposed of. And I do care about him, and he will forever mean something to me (my value of “firsts” is a little skewed – when your virginity goes to a thief in the night smaller things end up meaning more. And too many of those things went to A anyway...) I trusted AR to such a scary degree. I believed that he wouldn’t leave in the middle of the night and I let him have me defenceless. Love was just never  a thought.  A still had complete residence of my heart (the fucker still has a strangled hold too) and in the mean time, I’ve broken AR heart be seeing D. Turns out I hurt a few people. When the little girl lost doesn’t have faith that anyone could love her or care for her like that...

If I get too attached to D, he’s just going to leave. This had been clearly illustrated right back to my father. But most recently with A. I tried to keep him at arm’s length, even stopped seeing him twice in that year span so I could maintain some distance and maybe keep myself safe, but he came back. And finally, I gave in; I told him, I let myself love him – and what did he do? He left. Albeit, after that brief taste of what it’s like to be normal and have someone return my affection.But he left. He went running in some other direction. Maybe I just have a shelf life, and my appeal expired. 

Just things I never had the chance to say to A. ::

I wanted  you to know – leaving your bed was never my favourite thing. And it was never the easiest thing either (in fact I hated it!) But I couldn’t stay – especially when the boys were there. Random naked chick in the morning would not have been fair to them.

Every time I went to see you it was like jumping off a cliff – but I was always so comfortable once I landed. That was the deceiving part. I should have taken the warning that came with the fear. But it just felt so good to be around you. I always felt so comfortable and so safe when I was with you. Like nothing else mattered – not all the commentary from everyone else.

You were inside me without a condom but felt no connection like that? That’s sick. Almost as sick as how tightly you held me. And how comfortable you said you were, and how you said you didn’t want to let go. Congratulations on all the firsts you had with this naive blonde girl. On all the firsts that she gave up to you so willingly

I still don’t understand how or why you came back so many times when you didn’t have any connection. The sex was not worth it! You had more lovers in the last year than I ever had. Did I somehow make you feel better? Did I make you feel wanted and cared about? Is that why you let me curl up around you, why you blew me kisses and why you called me your girl? Is that why you gave that little speech to Jen? Or why you worked so hard to pleasure me?

I accept that it’s over. Whatever we were doing is over and done. But I still cry over it. I always knew it was nothing serious, nothing with a future. I only wanted a lover for the summer. I wanted you; no complications, no commitment, no travelling, no expectations. Just a little time, and fun. And I wanted to spend it with you. but I don't get to, and I miss it. You.

Still mourning an idea; they take longer to properly - and politely – die.

And selfishly suffering through a case of “right emotion, wrong guy.”

I went there.
I shouldn’t have, and I know it.
He’s bad for me – always has been. But there’s so much history here, which is part of the problem, and it’s an unfinished history. Even with his new start or whatever, there is still a conflict of the unfinished. I’ve never been able to figure out my feelings here, and from his side, at the very least, there is still lust. Which seemed to be the perfect prescription for the lonely girl; though it really does me no good afterward. It makes things worse. I didn’t want to be the tool for cheating. Again. The cheap little disposable whore – at far less than the retail price.

----

I don’t want to be the whore anymore, but just as quickly as I jump into that role (It’s so familiar and sometimes a little comfortable) I push away affection. I crush is, I stomp it, I just don’t understand it.

He never said love – just that he wanted to. But it was too soon, too improbably, too impossible.

Distance.

But he kept declaring, kept... my god. I felt it too... but I’ll never be there. And he’ll never be here. All so unfair, cruel. I told him we should stop – I’m not worth wasting this on. Not when he could find someone close, someone worthy, fitting, fair.

He cried. And I broke my own heart.

It would never be fair to keep him.

---

Not that I have any idea how to start anything that doesn’t involve dropping my pants, but I think I have feelings for someone. A crush. Although, I’m pretty sure he’s seeing someone else – but I’m too afraid to ask. So much could be revealed in asking that question; curiosity can only get you so far. And if he does, I’ve been misreading many things. Which will sting.

I honestly have no idea how to go about it properly. I have no successful history (I’ve never even been someone’s “girlfriend”, been accused of acting like a goddamn one, but never actually been one.)

Worst of all, I can’t really trust this idea. Do I like him, or am I lonely and comforted by the idea? So many have told me my affections aren’t real. Maybe they have merit.

It’s like something is fundamentally wrong with me.

But I think I like him.

I won’t get angry...well, any angrier, anyway. I won’t spill your little secrets either, although I was tempted to. And it’s not the fact that you ended things – no, that would have been fine. It’s how you didn’t, but...

In the middle of some night, you’ll wake up drenched in a cold sweat, sickened by the knowledge that something is missing, lacking from your life. Something you had a taste of once, the faded memory of it haunting the back of your mind. But you’re never able to fully understand it. And you’ll be struck desperate, searching to fill the void that only continues to gnaw at you. And you will never be satisfied.

You did call me an addiction for a reason. Let the punishment suit the crime.

You read my profile at the start, right? You know Wicca means Witch – welcome to my dark side babes.

I’ve been wondering, would it have made a difference if I had said something? If I had made a great declaration of how I felt, if I had just said something as you sat on my sofa and first told me about her. Were you waiting for me to say something, to react? I had been waiting since that night, long before, since I closed that door. Maybe, I’ve been waiting for you to come back. Waiting to see if you were ment to.

I don’t fight for it, sorry. I’m struck with the belief that if something is ment to be, I shouldn’t have to fight so hard against myself. It should come somewhat naturally.  And yet, I try to hide it when that uncertainty creeps in. My heart breaks, I wear it on my sleeve. You show me your wife and I smile politely to her. What was I supposed to do?
 

So quickly you were there, and then gone. Never mine.
 

You knew I wanted you (still do), it’s clear in my eyes, that’s what lead us to where we were – beard burn and flushed skin – but two weeks later you show up with someone else.
 

Never mine. Never wholly belonging to any one.
 

Part of loving you means I want you to be happy, even if it hurts me. Irks me. Makes me utter broken judgements as a defence.

How much plainer must I be? Should I have been? Maybe that’s it. I never was, never have been. Maybe I’ve said it to everyone else but you. (The fear of deaf ears is a heavy burden.) But what difference would it make now?
 

I love you R.   

(or is that past tense now...)