Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing after all.*
Last night I dreamt that I ran into TheEx with his new wife and child, which seemed rather remarkable as it would be virtually impossible for the later to have happened in the short time we have split up. Not totally improbable on the former, however, unfortunately.

Again, I brood because of this melancholy ache that resided in my heart, which seemed so unusual after all of this time. While I think what would have passed for our anniversary was Tuesday, it was actually last night and this evening that made it so clear. Our first date took place the evening before $corporate_bookstore's annual holiday meeting, in which on that first night, after a fairly interesting dinner (one thing that I remember so vividly about that evening was his discussion on phone sex he had with someone he met online and the turning of the preplexedness that he had on the fact that she wanted to actually meet him). After dinner, we had run to the grocery store as I was planning on making Apple Pie Bread for the event, and I remember it had snowed and that my dress boots were killing my feet. I remember his eagerness in helping me prepare the bread as well as the giggling in the car as I dug around my clutch for my lip balm on the way to said store. I remember his over earnest expression as he did this weird little after a long discussion about taking "this" slow and dance in my kitchen, asking if he could kiss me and me saying no. But instead I offered up a hug and he wouldn't quite let me go. Two days later, we made out like teenagers in his car in my driveway, of which I threw myself at him and kissed him so deeply that I steamed up his glasses (and the car windows).

The first snow of the season reminiscent of those walks between our houses (four blocks!) as we met in the middle of the street to give each other kisses good night, only to have him follow me home, to snuggle deeply in my bed. Of making snow angels in the park by our houses and the pictures that would follow. And of course of the occassion, three weeks later, when I called him to come over so I could break up with him - I knew that if I continued seeing him things were going to end bad, and somehow we didn't and well, the rest is history.


These memories are disjointed as they appeared because this evening on my way to the $corporate_bookstore's annual holiday meeting, I had this urge to call him to tell him to walk thepugkids, to tell him that I loved him and that I would be home rather late and would he mind warming up the sheets before I arrived back home?

Time has a wonderful way of erasing all the hurt and the negativity of the relationship -- it is much easier to forget the pain, the almost constant loneliness and the often silence that pervaded our relationship. He never talked much about his own feelings or about depth of issue in regards to himself and when I would attempt to do the same about myself, there was often silence in return. My frustration with the levels of which we did not talk were so prevalent that I choose to ignore them rather than think of them. Because I made the choice to do that, it was easier to ignore the harsh realities of the relationship and cocoon myself in a fairytale that really wasn't real.

Logically, I know that being with him ultimately would have been a huge mistake: of all of his peccadilloes, there are things that I could not do for him that only he could do for himself, and the fact that he hurt me physically trumps everything that was good. Rationally and logically, I have stated that I do not want him back for reasons that I have previously listed time and time again, openly here. Those reasons have not changed, but instead, I indulge in thinking of the goodness that occurred over the badness, it seems easier that way.

I'm in love with the person from those early days, and not the monster that appeared at the end. Perhaps this is the why then -- the why that I find myself returning to time and time again as of late as so much reminds me of those carefree times when everything seemed possible and Michigan in the winter didn't seem so desolate or bleak. When the first snows singled the time for re-birth and love. I cannot reconcile how someone could be so monstrous and treat me with such little respect and so shabbily when all I had done was love them with every fiber of my being. This is my why -- an answer that I'll never, ever fully receive.

TheEx's best friend. GRLawyerFriend, had said to me several months after the first break-up that TheEx still loved me as passionately as ever, if that mattered. He also said that I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and to wait for something that may never happen -- namely the rebirthing of the person I saw over this monster that seemed to pop in and out for the entirety of TheEx's life. I remember thinking that because I loved him, then, so strong and so true, that waiting seemed like the natural recourse for me. Because if TheEx could see what I saw in him, then everything would be okay.

As we all know, it did not turn out that way. Being told that not only was TheEx thinking about dating and it wasn't going to be me, that his time with me was over -- and that he no longer loved me anymore (he says) superseded every good thing about our relationship. I have always felt, long felt, that for all of his bravedo, he did not fight for me, he did not make the effort to prove his love was true. And to me, this was the most disappointing thing of all -- for the TheEx that I met two years ago, who seemed so passionate about me and supposedly loved me for me, would not have done that. And yet, he had.

Sitting to my right is a box full of the things he gave me that were peppered around our apartment, that I boxed up after he moved out in April. In it sits a holiday card he gave me in which he wrote that I was his soul mate, the most perfect girlfriend on the planet and every other romantic thing that overrode any doubt in my brain and heart about the status of our relationship. I have not opened that box since the day he left and it was brought into my bedroom when I moved because I did not know what to do with it. I've recently toyed with the idea of just throwing the entire box away without looking inside of it and yet I have not. It sits there, propped against a wall and I treat it like Pandora's box.

GRLawyerFriend said to me that what he most wished for me was that I did not lay around waiting for TheEx to get his shit together, that I did not let opportunities go by because I was waiting for something that may not happen. TheEx's volatile behaviour had been ongoing for over 20 years -- and he clearly was not going to change overnight. I had thought then that my love was so strong and true that waiting did not seem to be that big of deal -- but the Monster then appears and it negates all the good and for a very long time, all I could remember is the bad.

I forgive you.
I forgive you.

I say this out loud, a deep cleansing sigh overtakes my body and I feel the most relaxed I have in a very long time. I had thought, for ages, that by admitting forgiveness would mean admitting defeat -- you had won, I had not prevailed and I was stuck in this cyclic hell of my own choosing. But no, it is returning the loveliness of the early days back into their proper place, of where they belong. I can no longer ruminate on the Monster, for to do that gives him power and really, I've been fighting to against something that never really was -- a power that was really mine all along if only I wanted it.

I forgive you.

I had said to Justin as of late that it would be a shame if I never fell in love with him again, if I let him go for whatever reason that in the end were silly and stupid. We have talked about the probability of a relationship beyond what our friendship is now -- it would be stupid of me to not seek out that opportunity if it were to present itself to me again. I have no expectations beyond what happens when he comes out to visit in December, but what I don't want is to go to him with a heavy heart full of pain and hurt that the only reason why I cannot go to him truly free is because I'm caught up in this stupid cyclic feeling that by forgiving you would mean the end of me. No, it is a re-birth. I have prevailed, I always prevail. And if not with Justin, then whomever crosses my path as the future unfolds.

I forgive you.

I will always be a tiny bit in love with the projection, the image that I grew up around you -- such is the nature of whom I am. I cannot fathom spending the rest of my life hating you, I could never really hold a grudge anyway. Life is too short to spend that kind of negative energy on something that is out of my control. I'll never get the answer to my why but I'm much more aware today of why that is -- and I'm content with that decision. If in order to be free means forgiving you, it is such a small price to pay for my eternal happiness.

I forgive you.


*Pride and Prejudice.